I hugged my well-meaning mom tightly. “That’s because of her.”

Mom pulled back, tears in her eyes. “Then that makes me happy.” And when she smiled, she meant it.

Chapter 20

Beckett

Corin was waiting in the car when I walked out of my parents’ house. I could see her messing with the radio.

I took a minute to watch her without her realizing it. Mom’s words echoed in my head.

“That sort of grief breaks a person.”

Was my mother right? Was Corin broken? There were times I’d agree with Mom. I could see the heartbreak there, just below the surface.

But there were other times, like when it was just the two of us together, that she seemed happy. Hopeful even. Not broken at all.

I knew one thing for sure; I needed to find out more about Corin’s past. Whether she wanted to talk about it or not.

I got in the car and put the bag my mother had given me on the back seat.

“You okay?” I asked her. Corin continued to fiddle with the radio dials and gave me a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Sure.”

Sure.

It was such a weighted word. With Corin it could mean a million different things. It could mean nothing at all.

“Sure,” I repeated.

Corin nodded. “Sure.”

“So you liked the pot roast,” I remarked lamely.

“It was a good pot roast,” Corin agreed, giving me a strange look.

“Well, that’s great.”

Way to dig for information, Beckett, I silently chided myself.

I drove back to my apartment not really knowing what to say. I had a lot of questions, but I wasn’t sure Corin would answer them. She was so evasive. She avoided certain subjects like the plague.

I pulled into my normal parking space and turned off the car. “You want to come inside for a bit?” I asked. Corin had driven over after work and I could see her car parked beneath the elm tree.

“If you want me to,” she answered.

“Sure,” I said and was finally rewarded with a sincere upward curve of her lips.

We walked slowly inside my building. We waited for the elevator. We stood side by side. Not speaking.

Waiting.

Once inside my apartment, I turned on the lights.

“I should put this stuff in the fridge. Do you want anything to drink?” I asked, holding up the bag my mom had given me.

I was feeling suddenly awkward. Antsy. Restless.

“A cup of tea would be great.”

“Okay, well, make yourself comfortable. I’ll only be a minute.”

I hurried to make the tea and when I came back out to the living room, I found Corin looking at my framed photographs on the mantelpiece.

“You look so young in some of these,” she said, pointing to a few of me playing soccer and running track in high school. She took the cup of tea I held out for her.

“I should. That was over ten years ago.”

She moved down the row to look at the ones I had taken.

“I really love this one,” she murmured, indicating the black and white of the Ash Street bridge in the moonlight. “It’s beautiful.”

I picked up the framed photograph and handed it to her. “Then you should have it.”

“I can’t take it, Beck, it’s your picture.”

“And I can take another. But I want you to have it if you like it so much.”

Corin tucked the framed picture into her chest, hugging it to her. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

She looked back at the photographs. “Why didn’t you tell me about your doctor’s appointment? About your heart?” I asked.

“What did it feel like when you had your heart attack?” she asked, not answering me.

I frowned. “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything—”

Corin looked up at me and I was surprised to see that her eyes were damp. Tears clung to her eyelashes but wouldn’t fall. Corin rarely cried. I knew it was something she tried not to do. Ever.

“Can you tell me? Please,” she begged. I knew this was important to her. I just didn’t know why.

I took her hand and pulled her to the couch. We sat down beside each other but not touching. I wanted to wrap my arms around her. I wanted to hold her and figure out why she was crying. I hated those tears. The pain that caused them.

“I was out jogging one morning. I wasn’t pushing myself particularly hard. I was running the same route I went every single day.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I was going along the river, listening to my music, not thinking about anything in particular when I felt a sharp pain in my right side. I tried to ignore it at first, thinking it was a stitch or something.”

I remembered back to that day. How I had tried so hard to disregard the signals my body had been sending. I ignored each and every one. Until it was too late.

“Then I felt a pressure in my chest. Like a giant boulder sat right here.” I rubbed the middle of my sternum. “I stopped running and bent over, trying to get my breath.”

I ran my hands through my hair. I hated this memory. More than any other. “I couldn’t breathe. And the pressure was too much. I felt sick. Like I was going to throw up. Then I collapsed.”

Corin was staring at me with an intense look in her eyes. It unnerved me a bit. “I was told that my heart stopped beating for almost two minutes. That if it weren’t for a pair of women out walking their dogs, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“You died,” she whispered.

I nodded. “I died.”

“Does that scare you?”

“Dying?” I asked, and she nodded.

“No, it doesn’t.” And it was the truth. Dying wasn’t what scared me.

It was not living.

Corin looked away, her hair falling over her shoulder and I wanted to touch it. I wanted to touch her.

“Why are you asking me all of this?”

“Because I am scared of dying.”

“But you’re fine, Corin. You said your doctor told you that your heart is fine—”

“If it’s not my heart, then it’s something else. I know it.”

I didn’t understand what she was saying. How could she know something was wrong when her doctor said she was healthy?

“I don’t think I get what you’re telling me. Is there something else going on with you? Are you sick?”

“When I was fourteen years old, my mother was diagnosed with melanoma. She died within the year.” The tears started falling then and I couldn’t stand not holding her any longer.

I pulled her toward me, pressing her into my side. I burrowed my nose into her hair, breathing in the scent that was entirely Corin.

“I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Corin.” I couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. What she went through.

“Then a year later, my dad was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s disease. He didn’t die right away. He fought for a long time. I was eighteen when he finally passed away. I had been taking care of him for the last year. When he died, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was completely lost.”

My god, she had lost both of her parents in such a short amount of time. How in the hell had she survived that?

“Tamsin, my sister, wasn’t around for any of it. Not really. She was off at college and I was home. Watching my parents die one at a time.” She sounded monotone. As though she had switched off the emotion. Or she was bottling it up. I didn’t want her to bottle it up. I wanted her to know she could let it loose with me.

“Corin, fuck. That’s horrible.” What completely insufficient words.

“After that I knew that I was going to end up the same way. Dead too early. Wasting away from disease. I just knew that I didn’t have much time left. So I’ve never bothered to do much. I didn’t go to college. I’ve never had a serious relationship. Sure, I have my pottery studio, and that’s something that has brought me some joy. But that’s it.”