Page 69 of Still Beating

I’m sitting on Mandy’s couch after work that Friday, guzzling down a water bottle as I try to collect my thoughts. I squeeze the bottle in my fist, listening to the crinkling plastic mingle with the sound of Mandy’s chipper voice floating through the apartment.

“…and I can’t believe Margo is retiring…”

I open and close my hand around the empty bottle.

Crinkle. Crinkle. Crinkle.

“…she’s basically our mama bear…”

Crinkle. Crinkle. Crinkle.

“…definitely going to… Dean? Are you listening?”

I snap my head up as Mandy saunters into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Everything okay?” She cocks her head to one side, her hazel eyes shimmering with concern. “You look a little pale.”

That’s probably because I’ve been holding back my vomit for the last fifteen minutes.

My throat bobs as I swallow. “We need to talk, Mandy.” I set the bottle down next to me and wipe my hands along the front of my denim pants.

Mandy stares at me for a moment, registering my words. She nibbles on her top lip as she wrings the towel between her fingers. “About what?”

She knows about what. I can see it all over her face.

Fuck.

“Shit… this is the hardest conversation of my life.”

“Dean.” My name comes out as a tiny cry—a plea. “Don’t do this.”

I stand from the couch, stepping towards her with outstretched hands. She moves back to avoid my reach and I pause my feet, my arms falling at my sides, defeated. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Then don’t. I don’t want you to hurt me.” She folds her arms across her chest, her body already trembling. “We can work through this.”

“We can’t. And it’s not because I don’t care about you… we’ve had an amazing run, and I don’t regret a single moment of the last fifteen years.”

“Please stop…”

“But I feel like a completely different person right now. I know it was only three weeks. I get it, but I can’t explain what happened to me. I just… I don’t feel that connection, that spark, and youdeservethat. You deserve so much more than what I can give you.”

God, I hope that didn’t come off like I’m feeding her bullshit because it’s the fucking truth.

Mandy closes her eyes, holding them shut as her emotions begin to peak. I see her hands curl into fists, and she asks, “Is it because of her?”

“What? Who?”

“Mysister.”

The word spits out between clenched teeth, like it was nearly impossible to say.

My jaw ticks in reply. This isn’t about Cora. This is about me and Mandy. We’re not well-suited. It doesn’twork.

Not anymore.

“No,” I say.

“You’re a liar. Something happened between you two in that basement,” she says. “That guy was calledThe Matchmaker, Dean. I’ve tried to tell myself that you two hated each other and nothing would have happened, but now I’m just feeling like a huge idiot…”

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