Chapter 25

Beckett

I could hear her talking to me.

But she didn’t know I was listening.

He voice seemed to come from far away. Like in a dream I couldn’t wake from.

Sometimes I thought I caught a whiff of paint and strawberries and I felt at peace.

Content.

Until I heard her crying.

Corin never cried.

But she cried all the time now.

And I knew it was because of me. Because she was alone. I had left her.

I had promised her a different ending to our story.

I was a goddamned liar.

“You need to sleep sometime, Cor.” I could hear her sister talking to her. Trying to get her to go home. To sleep. To eat.

Sometimes she’d listen and leave.

Those were dark times.

When I knew she was gone.

But she always came back.

“Don’t die, Beck. Please.”

I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live. There were too many things I still wanted to do. And Corin, my beautiful, complicated Corin, had experienced too much heartache.

Too much pain.

But I couldn’t wake up.

I’d go so far under that it was nothing but blackness. Dark and cold. I was alone.

No Corin.

No Mom and Dad.

Nothingness that went on and on forever.

It would be so easy to let go. To float off into the nothing.

To leave everything behind.

Living was so tiring.

The struggle too much.

I felt weighed down and I knew this was it.

For me, this was all there was.

“Wake up, Beck. For me…”

I tried to listen. I tried to do as she asked but I couldn’t.

I wasn’t strong enough to fight against a failing heart and a dying body.

I wanted to let Corin know it was okay to let go. She needed to move on.

Without me.

If I could cry, I would.

The shadows were waiting. Calling me home.

But I stayed tethered to Corin and her constant, heartfelt pleas.

I love you.

I thought it hard.

I felt it deep.

Trapped in my body, unable to move, I loved her.

And that love would go on and on and on.

Long after I was dust and ash. It was never ending.

I wished I could feel her touch me. I wished I could see her face.

One more time.

I felt cheated.

Betrayed by my body.

I had done everything right. But it hadn’t been enough.

I had made Corin trust me. I had offered her a future. A life.

And I was going to take it all away.

I screamed.

But no one could hear me.

I was locked in silence.

Confined in darkness.

But I loved her.

Even if it wasn’t enough to heal me.

I loved her.

Painful, consuming love.

Just let go.

The thought whispered unimpeded.

Burrowing in my brain¸ taking root.

Just let go. It will all be over.

“Beckett, please come back to me.”

I could hear her.

She was my anchor.

Holding me down, keeping me there.

For now…

I had told Corin to stop waiting for the end.

It seemed it found us without my realizing it. The end was here.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

Epilogue

Corin

SIX MONTHS LATER

The weather was warm.

I was thankful for the sun.

The cold had settled too long in my bones and it was time for me to thaw.

I stood on the bridge on Ash Street and looked out at the stream that lazily flowed underneath me.

It was unbothered.

Unhurried.

I smiled, thinking that one day I hoped to be just like that stream.

So much had changed in those short months.

My parents’ house had sold quickly and while it hurt sometimes to think about it being gone for good, I knew that my sister had been right. It was just a place. It couldn’t take away the memories.

Those were mine.

The extra cash flow had certainly helped in keeping the shop afloat. Adam and I had used a chunk of it in new marketing and supplies. We reached out to the Mended Hearts support group and a few others providing services to patients and survivors of diseases and illnesses, offering art workshops in conjunction with their meetings. It was hugely successful and we were now seeing a steady increase in business as a result.

My friendship with Adam had changed for the better. We spent time together. We talked about things. He opened up to me about his relationship with Krista and even though they were an odd couple, he was happy. And I was happy for him.

I continued with therapy and it was helping in ways I hadn’t thought possible. I hadn’t been dealing with my grief in a healthy way. I hadn’t been coping at all. I was working through my feelings of abandonment. My intense hypochondria, that was still so much of a problem.

I was trying not to go to the worst-case scenario every time I sneezed but it was hard. And while my unnatural preoccupation with death had lessened considerably, I still had a long way to go.

Issues to work through. Baggage to unload.

I’d get there. Because staying in my isolated bubble wasn’t a possibility for me anymore.

And that had everything to do with my one reason to live.

“One day, baby girl, you’re going to have a fantastic life. You’re going to be happy. You will love and be loved. I see it all so clearly.”

I hid my face in my mother’s lap, not sure I believed her.

My mother lifted me up and made me look at her. She had only just started her chemo so her hair hadn’t started to fall out yet.

And she was beautiful. So beautiful.

“Believe your mom.” Her smile was dazzling. “You will have everything.”

I found I could now remember the good things about Mom and Dad. That they came to me with more frequency than they ever had before. It felt as though I were visiting with them for the first time in years. I embraced the gift of being given my parents back.

Tamsin was making an effort to be in my life. I had honestly thought that things would go back to the way they were before her visit. But she had been there during the entire ordeal with Beckett. She stayed at my apartment and made sure I ate and showered and took care of myself.

And then she helped me after.

We talked about our memories of our parents, and the pain was easier to bear by sharing it with her.

My phone rang and I looked down at the screen, smiling slightly.

“Hey, sis,” I said after answering.

“Hey, Cor. Where are you?”

“At the bridge.”

“Again?”

“I like it here.”

“I know. I just thought after all that time you spent there when Beck was—”

“I like it here, Tam,” I said firmly, cutting her off.

I didn’t want to think about those dark days when not even the sun could warm the chill in my bones.

But the bridge, our bridge, was the only place I had been able to find a measure of solace.

“Are you going to be there long?”

Why was she asking?

“Probably. I’m not in a rush to go anywhere,” I said softly, looking out at the stream. Drifting slowly. With purpose.