Page 41 of Where We Belong

Earning back Cory’s trust will take time, patience, and probably a miracle.

I lift Bernie, so we can leave. Drawing in a shaky breath, I admit, “Cory won’t be here tomorrow, sweet pea. We don’t know when she’ll be back.” Her arms wrap around my neck as she heaves a tiny sigh that pierces my heart.

I hate being the one causing her sadness. I hate myself for constantly pushing Cory away with my fear. But I’m done being a coward. I’m ready to fight for the life and love I want, no matter how vulnerable it makes me feel.

For my girls.

I’ll do it for my girls.

* * *

After dropping off Bernie at daycare, I hurry to the coffee shop to grab Cory’s usual before swinging by her apartment. Rita shoots me a death glare as I order Cory’s reserve hazelnut bianco latte, extra foam with an extra shot of espresso. Thankfully, she doesn’t say a word. I just hope the rumors don’t spread like wildfire—as it usually does in Paradise Bay.

The short distance to Cory’s apartment feels like miles. Once I arrive at her place, I ring the bell, hoping she won’t make me beg like last night. I know I deserve it, but today I have back-to-back appointments. Leaving my patients hanging isn’t something I want to do, even when I want to swoon the fuck out of Cory.

I pause for a moment outside her door, taking a deep breath and letting my racing heart calm down.

Cory’s voice, slightly muffled by the door, reaches me loud and clear. “The coffee wasn’t necessary, Benedict.”

“But I’m here, and you know you want it,” I reply teasingly.

The clicks of the locks being undone make my shoulders sag in relief. Cory’s face comes into view as she opens the door. She’s in a snug tank top that accentuates her toned arms, and the leggings hug her curves just right. Her dark hair is braided loosely, a few stray tendrils framing her face, lending her an effortlessly sexy aura.

“Morning,” she says. Cory takes it, her fingers brushing mine. Electricity, subtle but palpable, sparks between us.

I lean in, letting my lips graze her cheek, feeling the soft warmth of her skin. “Morning, gorgeous,” I reply. “I have patients to see soon, but I wanted to drop this off and say hi before heading to the practice.”

Cory shakes her head, but a hint of a smile teases her lips. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Seemed like the perfect excuse to see your pretty face.” I wink.

“Collecting brownie points already?” Cory arches a brow.

“Doing my best to convince you I’m worthy of your heart.” I give her my most charming grin.

Cory’s gaze intensifies, her eyes gray, darkening like the sky in the middle of the storm during a September night. “Subtle,” she teases, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Really, not at all obvious.”

Laughing lightly, I tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger just a moment too long. “Hey, I’ve been hiding my feelings for you for years. I’m planning on telling you how I feel every day.” The words may sound casual, but they are a promise, one that I’m determined to keep.

“Feelings, you say?” she challenges, her eyebrow arching even higher as she questions my motives or maybe… is it going to be that hard to convince her that I love her?

Exhaling deeply, I reach out, gently taking her hand in mine. “You’re doubting me, aren’t you?”

“I wish I could say I’m not, but Lysander did give me a call and talked about all those feelings,” she says, sucking on her bottom lip.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips. “Do I even want to know what he said?”

Cory gives a half-hearted shrug. “He said they—Gatz, Aslan, and Ly—knew about these supposed feelings.”

I rub my chin. “Funny, but Gatsby never threatened me. I always wondered why since he seemed to be the one more in charge of telling people to back off his youngest siblings.”

“I’ll never understand those three,” Cory says with an eye roll. “Bad cop, good cop, and who the hell knows with Lysander. They could be pretty harsh on us, even though we were saints compared to many of our friends and classmates.” She smirks. “Aslan will pay when the quads grow up.”

I chuckle. “Probably. Was your father a triplet too?”

“Nope. There are two sets of Spearman twins in his generation, though.”

Genetics are so intriguing. If I wasn’t a doctor, I’d probably be a geneticist. Based on the family history here, I tease her, “You do realize we’ll likely end up with twins, right?”

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