From Flames of Heartbreak to Feast of Redemption: Jeremiah’s Fiery Arc in ‘The Summer I Turned Pretty’ Season 3 Finale Ignites Forgiveness and Future

In the sun-drenched saga of Cousins Beach, where every wave carries a whisper of what-could-have-been, Jeremiah Fisher has always been the heartbeat—the easy laugh, the loyal anchor, the brother who lit up the bonfires even as his own world smoldered. Portrayed with raw vulnerability by Gavin Casalegno, Jeremiah’s journey in The Summer I Turned Pretty has been a rollercoaster of unrequited hopes, from the playful flirtations of Season 1 to the devastating proposal in Season 2’s finale. But in Season 3 Episode 11, “At Last,” released on Prime Video September 17, 2025, Jeremiah’s arc blazes to a stunning close: a high-stakes dinner that nearly crumbles under pressure, a raw confrontation with buried insecurities, and a graceful release of Belly Conklin that paves the way for his own radiant path. It’s not the end fans clamored for, but it’s the growth that stuns, proving that sometimes, letting go is the ultimate act of love—and self-discovery.

To grasp the fire in this finale, we need to trace the ashes Jeremiah rose from. Adapted from Jenny Han’s trilogy, the series has long pitted Jeremiah against his older brother Conrad in a love triangle that fractured families and fans alike. Season 1’s sun-kissed innocence gave way to Season 2’s heartbreak: Susannah’s death, Conrad’s withdrawal, and Jeremiah’s impulsive proposal to Belly (Lola Tung), a desperate bid to outrun grief. By Season 3, now in their early 20s, the characters scatter—Belly in Paris chasing independence, Conrad in Brussels burying himself in med school, and Jeremiah back in Cousins, adrift in a haze of resentment. Early episodes paint him as a shadow of his sunny self: bitter outbursts at Conrad, codependent clinging to Belly, and a stalled culinary passion that once promised escape. “He’s lost in the comparison,” Han explained in a Deadline interview post-finale, noting Jeremiah’s season-long struggle with feeling like “the backup plan.” It’s a arc that divided viewers—#TeamJeremiah rallied against his “villain edit,” while critics like Collider‘s review of Episode 9 lamented the “pity party” that coddled his flaws without accountability.

Episode 11, clocking in at nearly 80 minutes, masterfully splits its runtime between Paris’s romantic haze and Cousins’ grounded chaos, with Jeremiah’s storyline anchoring the latter like a hearth fire. The episode opens on the Fisher brothers’ tentative truce: Conrad, en route to win back Belly, texts Jeremiah a simple “Good luck tonight” before boarding his flight. It’s a small gesture, but seismic—Jeremiah, prepping in his cramped apartment for a pivotal pop-up dinner, stares at his phone, a flicker of the old warmth breaking through his guarded scowl. This dinner isn’t just a meal; it’s his shot at legitimacy. Having pivoted from frat-boy antics to a burgeoning chef-influencer career (complete with viral TikToks of beachside seafood boils), Jeremiah’s event was meant for a swanky venue, curated by his no-nonsense friend Denise (Isabella Briggs, a fresh face whose tough-love vibe steals scenes). But disaster strikes: a burst pipe floods the restaurant, forcing a frantic pivot to the iconic Cousins Beach house.

Enter the frenzy—a “fire” that tests Jeremiah’s mettle in ways no love triangle ever could. As rain lashes the windows, the crew assembles: Taylor (Rain Spencer) and Steven (Sean Kaufman) bicker over setup, Laurel (Jackie Chung) arrives with wine and wry wisdom, and even Adam Fisher (the brothers’ estranged dad, played by Tom Everett Scott) crashes uninvited, stirring old wounds. Jeremiah, sleeves rolled up, juggles a multi-course menu: herb-crusted halibut evoking Susannah’s garden, heirloom tomato salads dotted with Cousins sand, and a showstopper chocolate torte that doubles as a metaphor for his layered heart. But insecurities flare like a grease fire. Midway through plating appetizers, he snaps at Taylor’s hovering (“I don’t need another mom!”), his voice cracking as flashbacks hit: the wedding that wasn’t, Belly’s hesitant “I do,” Conrad’s perpetual shadow. “I’m always the one picking up the pieces,” he mutters to Denise in the pantry, fists clenched around a whisk. It’s Casalegno’s finest hour—eyes brimming, jaw set, channeling the quiet rage of a golden boy who’s tired of shining for everyone else.

Denise, the episode’s unsung hero, douses those flames with unfiltered truth. A culinary school dropout turned line cook with a killer deadpan, she’s been Jeremiah’s platonic rock all season, calling out his Conrad fixation (“You’re not his echo; you’re the damn symphony”) and pushing his content to influencers. In a pivotal heart-to-heart amid the steam of boiling stock, she confronts him: “You fight for everyone but you. This dinner? It’s yours. Own it, or it’ll own you.” Her words ignite a shift—Jeremiah exhales, rolls his shoulders, and dives back in, directing the chaos with the easy command of his youth. When Adam pulls him aside post-speech (a heartfelt toast to “summers that scar and save us”), the forgiveness unfolds organically. “I was proud of you, kid—always was. Just sucked at saying it,” Adam admits, voice thick. Jeremiah, tears streaking his chef whites, doesn’t lash out; he nods, a quiet “I know” sealing years of paternal neglect. It’s forgiveness not as erasure, but as fuel—echoing Susannah’s beachside mantra: “Pain doesn’t define you; what you build from it does.”

As the dinner unfolds, grace extends to the ghost of Belly. News trickles in via text—Conrad’s in Paris, sparks flying—and Jeremiah pauses, fork midway to his mouth. No outburst, no plea. Instead, he raises a glass: “To Belly, wherever she is—may she choose what sets her free.” It’s a moment of stunning maturity, subverting the jilted-lover trope. Off-screen, Belly’s train-station chase cements her choice of Conrad, but Jeremiah’s release feels like the episode’s emotional core. “He lets her go not from defeat, but from love,” Han told Cosmopolitan, emphasizing how this act frees him from the triangle’s orbit. The table erupts in cheers, laughter bubbling like champagne—Steven and Taylor air-kiss their way to reconciliation, Laurel shares a knowing glance with Adam. And in a tender coda, as stars prick the sky, Jeremiah and Denise linger on the deck. Their kiss—soft, tentative, born of shared scars—is no rebound; it’s a beginning. She’s moving to San Francisco for a startup gig, but the spark hints at possibility. “You taste like home,” he murmurs, and for once, it’s not about Cousins or Belly—it’s about him.

This arc doesn’t just stun; it redeems. Season 3’s Jeremiah began as a powder keg—lashing at Conrad in Episode 1, spiraling into self-doubt after Belly’s Paris escape in Episode 9. EW‘s recap praised the finale’s reversal: “The complete personality transplant… seems reversed,” restoring his charm without erasing the hurt. Casalegno, drawing from real-life insecurities, infused the role with nuance; in a Variety panel, he revealed therapy inspired Jeremiah’s vulnerability: “Growth isn’t linear—it’s messy, like a roux that almost burns.” Critics echoed the acclaim: ScreenRant noted the dinner’s “mature realness,” a counterpoint to Paris’s swoon, while The Review Geek highlighted Adam’s reconciliation as “powerful catharsis.” Yet, it’s the fan reaction that truly blazed across X. Within hours, #TeamJeremiah trended with 1.8 million mentions, posts like @sunshawnxx’s—”He ended with dignity, healed, a career, someone who cares… my man is glowing”—garnering 500+ likes. @corduevasmila2 proclaimed it “the summer Jeremiah turned pretty,” celebrating his triumph over “so much.” Even skeptics softened; @MercedesAlmirn, a #TeamConrad diehard, admitted, “He needed someone to believe in him… he learned comparisons aren’t good.” Threads dissected his evolution: from “lost in the triangle” (@wakeupsanya) to “maturing with purpose” (@Claudia_200001), underscoring Han’s intent for a “hopeful” close where no one is collateral.

Viewership data underscores the impact: Prime Video logged 18 million global streams in the first 48 hours, with Episode 11’s U.S. peak at 4.2 million concurrent viewers—surpassing the Season 2 wedding episode. Social buzz favored Jeremiah’s arc, with Vulture quipping, “The only thing you need… is that Jeremiah is doing fine emotionally and professionally.” Han, reflecting in ELLE, called it “acceptance for the Fisher family,” mending brotherly bonds through shared healing. A post-credits tease—a movie announcement—hints at more, but Jeremiah’s finale feels complete: no loose ends, just embers of promise.

In a series defined by stolen summers and shattered hearts, Jeremiah’s “fire and forgiveness” reminds us that growth often simmers before it sparks. He builds not just a dinner, but a life—fighting demons, forgiving ghosts, and stepping into a future unshadowed. It’s the arc that stuns because it’s real: messy, redemptive, utterly human. As the Cousins house fades to black, one truth glows: Some boys don’t just turn pretty—they turn profound. Stream it on Prime Video; Jeremiah’s grace might just warm your soul.