But I could tell Corin didn’t care about stuff like that. She was too busy chewing on her bottom lip and drilling a hole through the table with her fingers.

She was tall. Almost as tall as I was. Though she stooped her shoulders, which I figured had to be on purpose so her height wasn’t as noticeable. I had known a few girls growing up that were on the giant side, and each of them had been really self-conscious about it.

It seemed Corin Thompson was no different.

But without trying, she exuded an innate sexiness that was compelling. Mesmerizing even. I couldn’t stop looking at her, no matter how hard I tried. And it wasn’t just her looks.

It was something just below the surface that I was eager to find.

I wasn’t typically such an observant guy. I was a notoriously poor judge of character. Just ask my mother about every single one of my ex-girlfriends—including Sierra—and you’ll get the picture.

But Corin made me want to read between the lines. I found myself watching her. Noticing her. Trying to figure her out. She was intriguing without meaning to be. I felt triumphant when I thought I could understand her. And I knew, without a doubt, that it was difficult for her to talk to me. To talk to anyone.

I felt strangely flattered that she was making an effort with me.

“Here you go.” I handed her the cup of tea and watched as she slowly sipped, some of the liquid beading on her bottom lip.

“Did I do okay?” I asked.

“Huh?” That seemed to be her go-to response.

“The milk to sugar ratio. Is it all right? It’s an important thing to know,” I prompted. I tried the grinning thing again and hoped I looked more like a normal dude and less like a serial killer.

“Oh, sure.”

I placed my hand over my thumping heart and feigned a pained expression. “You’ve made me doubt my tea preparation abilities. She says sure. I hear shit.”

Corin didn’t crack a smile. She gave me nothing. Clearly my attempts at humor were lost on her.

But I just wanted her to smile. I felt compelled to do whatever it took to make it happen. Standing on my head wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Because she seemed sad.

Too sad.

And I hated that.

“Your tea preparation abilities are superb. No need to be overly dramatic about it,” she replied dryly.

And then I saw it.

The elusive smile. It was there and then it wasn’t and I couldn’t help but miss it when it was gone.

“Everyone have a seat,” Candace called out, and we all started shuffling unhurriedly toward the chairs.

I waited for Corin to find a seat and sat down across from her, noticing that once again she chose a chair without an opening beside her. That seemed intentional.

I bothered her. A lot.

I needed to change that quickly.

“Does anyone have news they want to share?” Candace asked, beginning the group in the usual way. My gaze found its way back to Corin who sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap. She was still chewing on her full bottom lip, looking anxious. I noticed her rubbing her chest periodically and wondered if she was all right.

Without thinking, I mirrored her movements, rubbing the always-sore spot below my collarbone. I found myself doing it frequently, usually when stressed.

She looked my way once or twice but otherwise kept her focus on whoever was speaking. Finally after everyone had shared their news, Candace turned to Corin, who looked about ready to jump out of her skin.

“Do you think you’d like to introduce yourself to the group? Perhaps tell everyone why you’re here?” Candace gently urged.

Corin looked at me, her face blank but her eyes wide.

Geoffery, the resident grandfather figure of the group, held out his trusted bag of mints for Corin to take one. She shook her head. Geoffery could be a little pushy about those mints of his.

“My name is Corin Thompson,” she began, and I leaned forward almost unconsciously.

“I’m twenty-five years old and I own the Razzle Dazzle pottery studio downtown.”

Beside me, Stella made a cooing noise. “My granddaughter loves your studio! I’ve taken her there a few times! It’s lovely!” she enthused, and I could see that the compliment made Corin happy. She flushed red and her lips quirked upward into an almost smile. A genuine expression on an otherwise frozen face.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, rubbing at her chest again. My fingers still rubbed at the spot on my own skin.

“Do you mind telling us what brought you here?” Candace asked.

Corin looked uncomfortable and I understood that feeling well. It sucked having to talk about your condition to complete strangers. You quickly got tired of explaining the details over and over again until you wanted to snap. I could see her getting flustered, her cheeks burning red. Her bottom lip was bloody from being torn to shreds by her teeth.

Corin fidgeted in her seat, her eyes darting from Candace, to me, back to Candace.

“I, uh…well…”

“Do you think we’ll have time to go over those yoga techniques we talked about last week? I was trying to remember them the other day and couldn’t,” I interrupted. Candace gave me a dark look, clearly not appreciating my perceived lack of sensitivity.

There was a second or two of silence after my abrupt subject change, and then a few others murmured their agreement.

I glanced across the room at Corin, hoping she didn’t think I was being rude. I hoped she realized that I was only trying to help her. Our eyes met and her severe expression softened, her dark eyes almost warm and it was like a punch to the gut. Real and raw and unlike anything I had ever experienced before. The air between us crackled with energy that I felt everywhere.

I couldn’t look away. It was physically impossible. But no sooner had the moment begun than Corin was looking away and I was wondering if I had imagined the whole thing.

What was going on with me? I briefly touched the bandage on my chest and winced at the twinge of pain.

Pain that had become my new normal.

—

After group, Corin and I left the church at the same time. We walked beside each other, though neither of us said anything until we were outside.

“Thanks for helping me out earlier. I don’t know what my problem was. Normally I have no problem talking in groups like this,” she said, sounding a little sheepish.

“Groups like this? Is this not your first one then?”

“Um, well…” she trailed off, and I could tell she was starting to shut down. In seconds she’d be walking off and I knew with a certainty that I couldn’t let that happen.

“Eh, it’s no big deal,” I said quickly, reaching out as if to touch her and then thought better of it. I clenched my hand into a fist and dropped it back to my side. “I know how hard it is to talk about your health stuff. I’d rather poke wooden toothpicks under my fingernails than explain what the hell ARVC is one more time.” I chuckled and it sounded wrong in my ears.

Corin didn’t say anything and I almost wanted her to.

“Beckett, Corin, hello!” Geoffery came over, his usual bag of mints open in his outstretched hand.

“What’s with the mints?” Corin whispered.

“Just take a few and smile,” I told her under my breath. Geoffery was a good guy. A little over the top with the whole mint thing, but I also knew he had to give up smoking and whiskey sours because of his heart condition. Who was I to begrudge a guy his fixes if they were healthy?

“Thanks, Geoffery,” I smiled, taking a handful. Corin smiled too and took one, tucking it in her pocket.

She patted the small lump. “For later,” she assured the older man, who grinned indulgently.

Geoffery seemed pleased and moved on to hand out the rest of his treats before leaving for the evening.

“He’s a funny old guy. Odd but sweet,” Corin mused before the silence fell between us again.