Page 113 of Still Beating

My mother pulls back to find my eyes, a knowing smile stretching across her pretty face. She leans in to kiss my hairline, then whispers, “That soup was from Dean.”

My chest tightens, the air escaping me with a sharp gasp. “What?”

“He would come over every day after school to study with Mandy, and he’d bring you soup. He never made a big deal about it—he acted like it was nothing.” She squeezes my arm, noticing my watery, wide-eyed stare. “He’s always cared about you, Cora.”

My mind is spinning and reeling, careening back in time to our early days of teasing and loathing. The only things that stand out during my high school years with Dean are elaborate pranks, like when Dean stole the tarantula from the science lab and hid it in my gym shoe.

That was on myfirst day.

That was after sharing a sweet look with him across the room in Mr. Adilman’s class, thinking maybe he would become my friend.

Nope. Cue the hairy spider in my shoe that traumatized me so hard, I spent half the day in the nurse’s office recovering.

There were no heroic gestures or kind words.

There was no soup.

I slick my tongue along my dry lips, feeling confused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

My mother glances up, leaning back onto the pillow with a sigh. “I’m not sure.” She turns her head to look at me and I’m still staring. Processing. “But I started noticing things after that. Little things. Just the way he’d look at you sometimes—his eyes held such… I don’t know. Admiration. Endearment. I don’t think he even realized it. Neither of you did.”

“You think… you think we’ve always had feelings for each other?”

No. That can’t be true. Ihatedhim, and he hated me.

“Subconsciously, I think there has always been a special connection between you two,” she says with a thoughtful expression. “I never questioned his loyalty to Mandy—I know they cared about each other very much. But as the years went on, I noticed the differences between them. They grew into different people who were not as well-suited as they were in the beginning. Of course, I never expected anything like this, but… I can’t say I’m entirely surprised by the outcome.”

I blink, my stomach in ropes. “You don’t hate him?”

My mother tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t hate him, honey. Dean has always been like a son to me, and your father and I both know none of this was intentional. This wasn’t a nefarious plot to hurt your sister. It’s been a horrible situation for everyone, and we knew there would be tough roads ahead with even tougher choices. Your sister and I have had plenty of long talks, and it’s going to take time, but I’m confident you will all find your way.” She kisses my forehead. “We hurt for Mandy. We hurt for you. We hurt for Dean.”

Tears track my cheeks in quiet streams, and I roll onto my back with a deep breath. “He left, Mom. He said he was holding me back from healing, so he took a job transfer in Bloomington, just to get away from me. He claimed it was because he loved me, but that doesn’t make any sense…” Those quiet tears turn loud as reality hits me once again. “I don’t know how to get through this without him.”

Her arms tuck around me once more, pulling me in. “Cora, sweetheart… love doesn’t exist without sacrifice. Sometimes those sacrifices are waking up ten minutes early to make your partner coffee. Sometimes it’s taking on a second job to support your family. Sometimes it’s staying up all night with a newborn so your significant other can finally sleep. Sometimes it’s shoveling the other person’s car out of the driveway after a snowstorm.” She places her palm against my wet cheek and smiles softly. “And sometimes it’s making the ultimate sacrifice and walking away for the greater good.”

I shake my head through the gut wrenching sobs. “I don’t want to be the ultimate sacrifice. I want to be the coffee one.”

“Oh, honey.” My mother holds me tight, a chuckle slipping out. “You need to think of it as an act of love, and not as an act of betrayal. And I think you should take this time to do some soul searching and put the pieces of your life back together. I’m here to help with whatever you need, and so is your dad. This isn’t necessarily an end… think of it as your chance to start over.”

I sniffle, thinking back to my final conversation with Dean in my living room last Friday.

Thinking back to that look in his eyes when I returned the locket—the most precious gift I’ve ever received—and hurled my angry words at him. That was our final moment together. Our last dance. And I allowed my demons to take over and strike him down when he was hurting just as much as I was.

Maybe my mother is right. Maybe thisisall about love.

Maybe love is singing her favorite song in the dark, just so she can sleep. Maybe love is giving away the shoes on your feet to help keep her warm. Maybe love is coming over in the middle of the night when the power goes out because you know she’s afraid of the dark.

And maybe love is walking away because it’s the only way she’ll find the light again.

I wanted to believe our situation was thereasonour feelings changed—shifted and swayed like a high tide. But feelings like this cannot be built in the course of three weeks. They are created over time, blooming and growing, manifesting into something bigger than us both.

Our ordeal may have opened a door, but it opened a door that was already cracked. Dean and I have always had a connection—a unique chemistry. It was disguised with banter and jokes, hostile words and silly pranks, but there was alwayssomething. And if I were to play the last fifteen years out like a film reel in my mind, I’d see the signs. I’d notice the things I’d blatantly ignored due to circumstances, ignorance, and our battle of wills.

I’d recognize the look in his eyes in the rearview mirror after we rescued Blizzard in the middle of a snowy highway.

I’d see his mask of horror and guilt when he thought he’d hurt me with the cornstarch donut.

I’d pick apart his winks and smirks and the twinkle in his eyes whenever I was around.

---