Mine.

Beckett’s.

Endings and missed beginnings.

Geoffery’s service was being held at the same Methodist church where Mended Hearts had their meetings.

Beckett and I walked in, hand in hand. The air in the room was oppressive. I was lost in a sea of black and tear-soaked faces.

I clamped my fingers around Beckett’s, holding on for dear life.

I could see many of the group members already there. I found Candace, who had squeezed herself into a black dress that made her look a bit like a sausage. She was talking intently to an older woman who was sobbing into her hands.

“Come on. Let’s go talk to some of the others,” he said, giving my hand a tug. I stayed rooted to the spot.

“Corin, could you lighten up the death grip? I’m losing feeling in my hand,” he teased, with a note of concern.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t know my own strength sometimes. That’s what happens when you moonlight as a superhero.” I tried to joke. Poorly, I might add.

“How about we get some food first?” he suggested.

“Food? They have food at this thing?” I asked, sounding a little horrified. Funerals and a buffet sounded really wrong.

“Just coffee and stuff. Not a three-course dinner.” He nudged me with his elbow and smiled. How could he smile when we were surrounded by so much…grief?

“We don’t drink coffee,” I replied, deadened.

“No, we don’t. But maybe a cookie will perk you up.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even mention the whole diabetes thing. I had moved past that. It was the least of my worries.

“Hurry up, Corin. We have to get there early. The minister wants to talk about the sermon before everyone arrives.” Tamsin was so efficient. Even as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue, she had everything under control.

“I can’t go,” I said. There was no emotion in my voice.

Void.

Nothing.

Unlike the compassion I received from my dad during a similar conversation just before Mom’s funeral, my older sister wasn’t in the mood to waste time on sympathy.

“I don’t want to go either, Corin. But we have to. There’s no one to do this but us,” she replied harshly.

“I can’t do it,” I whispered.

“Well, too bad,” Tamsin snarled.

“Eat this.” Beckett all but shoved the cookie in my mouth.

“I can feed myself, you know.”

Beckett wiped the crumbs from his hand and poured himself a glass of water.

“Beckett! Corin! You made it!” Candace came over and gave both of us a hug. “It’s so good to see you.” She smelled like sweat and perfume. It turned my already unsettled stomach.

“Hi, Candace, good to see you too.” Beckett looked at me as if waiting for me to add my own greeting. I didn’t.

“I was just talking to Ida, Geoffery’s wife. She’s such a brave woman. She’d love to meet you. She says the group was such a help for Geoffery.”

Ida must have been the sobbing woman I saw Candace speaking to when we came in.

“Of course. Please introduce us.” Beckett took my hand again, giving it a little squeeze.

And then we were standing in front of Geoffery’s widow, her eyes red, her lips trembling as she tried not to cry.

“Ida, this is Beckett Kingsley and Corin Thompson. They’re both in the Mended Hearts group as well.”

Ida gave us a watery smile. “It’s lovely to meet you. Geoffery really looked forward to those groups every week. Thank you for being a part of his life. And thank you for being here tonight.” Her voice broke toward the end and she dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

“I’m just thankful to have had a chance to know Geoffery. He was an amazing guy. Though I still wonder if he was trying to tell me something with all those mints he insisted that I eat,” Beckett said, and Ida laughed. How was he able to do that? Make people laugh when they should be crying?

“Those stupid mints. He sucked on them all the time. I found bags of them hidden in drawers all over the house.” Ida chuckled, wiping at her eyes again.

“He was like the mint pusher. He wouldn’t let you leave until you had taken a handful.”

Just like that Beckett got Ida and Candace laughing and reminiscing about funny things. Happy things.

I wished I could be like that. Make death a joke.

But for me, it was no joking matter.

“Excuse me,” I said quietly, pulling my hand out of Beckett’s grasp, and quickly walked out of the room.

There were too many people. It was too hot. Too much crying.

I couldn’t handle it.

“Neil Thompson was a faithful husband to his wife, Charlotte. A loving father to his daughters, Tamsin and Corin. He was a loyal servant of God, acting as a deacon in our church for many years.”

I was getting really angry. What did this man know about my father? What did any of these people know about how he suffered?

Tamsin quietly cried beside me and I hated her.

She hadn’t been there to wipe the vomit from Dad’s chin when his pain had gotten the best of him and he had thrown up all over himself.

These people hadn’t sat by his bedside, watching him breathe. Waiting for that unbearable moment when his chest would stop rising.

What did they know about real grief?

They didn’t have a right to any of it.

“Corin, you out here?”

Beckett walked outside and found me huddled on a bench, barely feeling the cold.

“It’s freezing out here. What are you doing?” He sat down beside me.

“It’s a little oppressive in there, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

“You want to tell me what’s going on with you?” he asked.

“I just have a lot on my mind.”

“You’re thinking about your parents,” he surmised. I nodded. Not able to say anything more about it.

“How can you stand in there with everyone crying and being sad and make people laugh? How are you able to do that?” I asked.

Beckett shrugged. “I could get depressed and upset, but what point does that serve?”

“But how do you have any control over that? You feel how you feel, end of story,” I protested. I should know that better than most.

“Of course you have control over how you feel.” He sat up a little straighter and turned to face me, wrapping my cold hands between his, rubbing them slightly to warm them up. “Look, after the cardiac arrest I was really depressed. Scarily so. My whole life had changed in an instant. There were a lot of times I was angry. Angry that I was still alive. Because what was the point?”

Beckett’s face shadowed and I couldn’t look away from him.

It was the sadness belonging to a man who had lost so much.

“But then I realized I still had my entire life ahead of me. And I could go around feeling sorry for myself, or I could suck it up and keep on going.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not a man who gives up very easily.”

I snorted. “I had no idea.”

“It didn’t all happen at once. It’s been a process. Picking up the pieces and moving on. I had to accept there were things that just weren’t working, like my relationship with Sierra.” I felt my heart squeeze at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. Yeah, it was jealousy. I was only human after all.

“I also had to reach out and grab ahold of the things that were.” He pulled me closer, resting his forehead against mine. “That’s you, Corin. My life’s different now. I’m not the jock anymore. I can’t drink freaking coffee. Carb binges are out of the question. There are things I miss. But those things pale in comparison to what I’ve gained.”

“I’m living for me. And that makes all the painful stuff worth it.” He leaned back a bit, giving me some breathing room. “Maybe my heart stopping was a blessing in disguise.”