But never love.

That was something I realized that I had yet to experience.

She took my plate with the lasagna I hated and walked it purposefully across the kitchen. She lifted the trashcan lid and dumped the contents inside.

“You don’t have to do that—”

“It’s not like you’re going to eat it, Beckett. So what’s the fucking point?” she yelled, slamming the dish in the sink with a loud clang.

“This isn’t working, Sierra,” I said without preamble. I hadn’t been expecting to say that. Not like this. But the words sort of tumbled out.

We’ve wasted so much time being miserable.

Sierra stood at the sink, her face flushed, her chest heaving. When she looked at me, her eyes were on fire. “You’ve changed, Beck,” Sierra said, sounding so, so angry. And she was right. I wasn’t the same guy she met in the park all those years ago.

“I know,” I responded a little defensively. This was the crux of our problem.

I had changed. And she hadn’t. And we just couldn’t sync back up. Not that either of us was really trying to.

“You expect me to still be the Beckett who plays basketball with his friends and plans backpacking trips for the summer. I’m not that guy anymore, Sierra. And I know you can’t be happy with the person I am now.”

Sierra snorted and rolled her eyes, which pissed me off. But since I was going through with this, I might as well attempt to do it civilly. Even if Sierra seemed incapable of doing the same.

“You’re not happy, Sierra. I know that—”

“Don’t put this on me, Beck. Don’t you dare! This is all about you. You had that heart attack and you changed.”

“Damn right I changed, Sierra! I almost died! I don’t think you get that!” I yelled back. I felt a brief stab of pain in my chest and knew I should calm down. I couldn’t afford to get worked up.

Sierra threw her hands in the air. “You think I don’t know that? You won’t let me forget it! It’s there, all the time! Your heart attack. Your poor, pitiful heart. Woe is me. Wah, wah, wah. Cry me a fucking river! Well, screw you, Beckett!”

I pressed my palm over my chest and took a deep breath, willing myself not to fly off the handle. I felt light-headed again and closed my eyes briefly.

Think about pink bunnies and pretty beaches, I thought.

Sierra continued to scream at me and I just breathed through all of it, hoping I wouldn’t keel over at her feet because I was damn sure at this point she’d leave me there to die.

“Look, I’m not going to argue about it. If you could stop yelling for two minutes and think about it rationally, you’d see I’m right. You don’t want to be here with me. You don’t want to be shackled to a guy who can’t do the things you want him to do.”

Sierra narrowed her eyes. “I would have been happy to be shackled to a guy who couldn’t play basketball on weekends or go backpacking in the mountains. It wouldn’t have bothered me one bit, Beck.”

She dropped her plate in the sink where it cracked into pieces. If that wasn’t symbolic, I didn’t know what was.

“I just don’t want to be shackled to you,” she spat out.

“Okay then,” I muttered, not even hurt by the truth I had already known.

“And to think I was feeling a little guilty about Caleb!”

Wait. What? Who the hell was Caleb?

“Guess I shouldn’t have bothered hiding the fact that I’ve been screwing him for the past three months!” she shouted and then stormed from the room.

There was a lot of banging and slamming from the other side of the apartment. I didn’t follow her. I didn’t want to escalate the fight further. Maybe I should have demanded to know who the hell Caleb was. But honestly, I just didn’t give a fuck. The fact that she had been sleeping with another dude didn’t really matter. Sure, my pride was hurt a little, but my heart was fine. Not even a scar.

It was sad that after being together for so long, after sharing a home and a life, I couldn’t care less that she had been getting spread-eagle for the mysterious Caleb. I was just relieved that she was leaving.

The pain in my chest subsided. I sat down in a chair and listened as Sierra tore apart our bedroom.

I covered my mouth to try to stop myself from laughing. And failed.

Because this whole thing was pretty damn funny.

Sierra was in the other room, throwing things around, yelling at the top of her lungs as though I had just told her I was leaving her for her best friend. She was doing her best to play the part of the spurned girlfriend when she had, in fact, been cheating on me for months.

The irony was hysterical.

I was still laughing when Sierra came back to the kitchen, two bulging duffle bags in her hands. She scowled at me as I tried to stop snickering. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“I may have broken the stereo in the bedroom. Oops,” she told me, glaring.

I started laughing again. She was that ridiculous.

She threw her hands in the air in frustration. “I don’t think this is funny, Beck! I’m leaving! Don’t you get that?” she shrieked.

I schooled my face into a more neutral expression even as my lips continued to twitch. “Yeah. I get that.”

“I’m going to Caleb’s,” Sierra announced with a sneer, wanting to hurt me. “He’s my boss, just so you know.”

Of course he was.

“He has a house by the river and a summer home on the beach. He wants to take me hang gliding next weekend.” Why was she still here?

“Well, have a good time,” I said.

“Ugh! You’re such an asshole, Beckett! Good luck finding another woman to put up with your bullshit,” she huffed. “And don’t bother to call me ever again. I’ll come get my stuff when I know you’re at work. And don’t think you’re keeping the TV! It’s mine!” Sierra yelled a few minutes later.

Like I cared about the TV. I just wanted her to get the hell out already. This had been a long time coming, and all I could feel was relief that the moment was finally here.

“I deserve so much more than you,” Sierra seethed.

“I hope you found it with Caleb,” I replied, trying to sound sincere. I don’t think I succeeded.

Sierra glowered and then stomped out of the apartment.

And when the door closed, I felt better than I had in a long time.

Chapter 6

Corin

The tears just kept falling. I couldn’t stop them.

No sooner had they dried on my cheeks than they were replaced with new evidence of my grief.

My mother had been sent home from the hospital two days ago at her insistence.

“I won’t die in a hospital, Neil,” Mom had argued. Dad had fought her, insisting that the best place she could be was at the hospital, surrounded by doctors and nurses.

“What’s the point? I’m dying. Nothing is going to change that. And I’d rather leave this world on my terms. In my home. With my family.”

My mom was dying.

In a matter of weeks, days even, she would be gone, and I’d never get to see her again.

I lay beside her on the bed, holding her hand, her cheek rested tiredly on top of my head. We had been like that for hours. I couldn’t leave her. And I didn’t want to sleep. I was terrified that the moment I did, she’d slip away, and I would have wasted those last moments with her.

My mom was dying.

The tears clogged my throat and burned my eyes. They wouldn’t stop. I didn’t think they ever would.