Page 27 of Still Beating

But his eyes are still the bluest blue, and they are fixed on mine.

I’m about to tell him “good morning”, ask him how he slept, make idle conversation, but Dean speaks up first.

“You would have gotten them both,” he says.

His voice sounds frayed as I blink at him, processing his words. They take longer than usual to sink in, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m so exhausted or because part of me doubted that Dean would ever speak to me again. I swallow, my throat cinching.

“You would have adopted both dogs because your heart is too big for only one.”

I thought I was too beaten down and dehydrated to make anymore tears, but I surprise myself when my eyes start to mist. I keep my watery gaze on Dean, afraid to break this contact, afraid he’ll withdraw and leave me all alone again. I offer a small smile. Then I reply, my voice equally raspy, “I didn’t think you ever noticed my heart.”

It’s a heavy declaration, and I hate that it’s true.

Dean’s weary face grows even wearier as he absorbs my words. “It’s impossible not to notice, Cora.”

I finally lower my eyes and draw my knees back up to my chin. I don’t hear the dripping pipe anymore and idly wonder if it’s so cold outside that the pipes have frozen. A cold front was supposed to come through last week.

I lift my gaze back to Dean when the silence becomes too painful. He’s still staring at me. Still expressionless. “What are we?” I wonder aloud. I was not expecting those words to come out, but they have been plaguing me for days. Dean has always fit into a very specific box in my life. Dean, the asshole. Dean, my sister’s dumb boyfriend. Dean, my mortal enemy.

But…

“You don’t feel like my enemy anymore,” I finish.

You feel like my lifeline.

I watch a small frown crease his eyebrows as he studies me. Seconds tick by and turn into minutes. Our gazes drift and collide. Drift and collide.

He is thinking. Probably wondering the same thing.

“I don’t know,” Dean finally replies, a certain kind of sadness lacing every word. “But I think you were right… we’ll never be friends.”

Chapter Nine

F I V E Y E A R S E A R L I E R

“Where did you learn howto do this? Never mind… I don’t want to know.”

Dean is picking the padlock of an old, abandoned house with some kind of small object—maybe a bobby pin. Maybe a piece of his devil horn.

Brandon tightens his arm around my waist, warming me up with his body heat. It’s only mid-October, but the air is unbearably brisk, giving our haunted house adventure the perfect spooky ambiance.

Mandy is huddled up next to Dean, watching him work the lock. She bounces her knees up and down while hugging herself with both arms. “Hurry up, babe. Someone is going to see us,” she says in a harsh whisper. “Plus, I’m freezing my ass off.”

“Why didn’t you wear pants?” Dean asks. “It’s thirty-five degrees out.”

“They didn’t go with my dress. Obviously.”

Leave it to my sister to dress up for a very illegal sleepover in a rundown, three-story Victorian. I shake my head with an exaggerated eyeroll. “Who are you trying to impress, sis? The ghost of Mr. Garrison?”

“Ha ha,” she barks back. “Unlike some people, I enjoy looking my best no matter the occasion.”

Mandy bestows a pointed once-over to my faded blue jeans, baggy hoodie, and scuffed boots. I give my messy bun a quick tug, ignoring the insinuation that my appearance is not up to society’s standards.

Breaking and entering was not exactly on my To-Do list for the day—or any day ever for that matter. But Mandy talked me into it. The foreclosed Garrison home is the subject of many twisted tales and sordid rumors in our small town, especially this time of year. Besides, Brandon sounded overly enthusiastic about the prospect of spending the night in the creepy house and I didn’t want him to think I was a coward.

I am, of course. I’m practically pissing myself with fear right now.

My eyes zone in on Dean’s break-in attempt as I tap the toe of my boot with impatience. “I thought you said this would be easy,” I mutter. “You’re a terrible criminal.”

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