Page 55 of Still Beating

We’ll never be friends. We’re no longer enemies. We can’t be lovers.

Where does that leave us?

Soldiers at war. Kindred spirits. Two lost, wandering souls with nothing, and everything, in common.

Or… maybe not.

Maybe we aren’t something meant to be labeled. We transcend titles.

And that, I fear, is the most powerful thing of all.

I lower my gaze to Cora’s chest, noting the locket dangling between her breasts. She carries a piece of me with her.

She carries a lot of my pieces with her.

I chew on my cheek, scuffing my foot against the tan carpeting. “Have you seen the recent updates on the case?”

Cora looks taken off guard by the change of subject and starts scratching her wrist, her knee bobbing once again. “Yeah. It’s all over my newsfeed.”

Dammit. I was hoping she hadn’t. “It’s all sorts of fucked. He was grooming these couples to fall in love or some shit before he killed them… it’s sick and twisted.”

Her eyes are wide and glazing over, her breath hitching on the inhale. “He said our time was almost up. Did he think…?”

Our eyes meet.

And I’m dead certain we’re both thinking about what happened against that pole before I tore Earl’s face off.

We both jump, startled, when there’s an incessant pounding on the bedroom door. “Cor? You in there?”

It’s Mandy.

“Be right out,” Cora says, her voice clipped.

“You little hussy! Are you with a guy?” Mandy teases, then barges in, apparently not giving a crap if Cora is getting it on with some guy. She stops in her tracks when she spots me. “Oh. Hey, babe.”

I stuff my hands into my pockets. There’s a flash of suspicion in her eyes and it makes me feel itchy. I know Mandy has seen the news reports about Earl’s true motives, but she hasn’t interrogated me yet. I gulp. “Hey. We were just talking.”

A weird, awkward silence settles between the three of us, and I kind of want to just fall over and play dead like those goats do.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Mandy says, coughing into her hand as she tugs down her hot pink dress with the other. “We’re about to play flippy cup.”

I used to love flippy cup.

I used to love a lot of things.

“Okay, that sounds fun,” Cora says, reaching for her discarded beverage and sparing me a glance. “Count me in.”

The women walk out, and I stand there alone in the middle of the bedroom—in the middle ofmy fiancé’sbedroom—confused, rattled, and out of sorts.

What the hell did Earl see?

It’s almost midnight and I can’t find her.

I know it’s wrong, I know it’s twisted, I know I’m beyond wasted at this point, but it’s almost fucking midnight. It’s almost a new year. And I know, Iknow, I should be looking for Mandy right now, the woman I’ve rang in the last fifteen years with.

But I need to find Cora.

We went to Hell and back this year—together. When the clock strikes twelve, it’s a clean slate. A metaphorical new beginning.

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