Run, Corin! Run! Drop the delicious tea and get the hell out of there!

Maybe if that didn’t work I could start flailing around like I was having a seizure.

“Yes, I do. You’re the woman from the sidewalk. The one I helped out a few weeks ago,” he said, keeping his voice thankfully low.

The woman from the sidewalk?

Really?

Why not just call me the chick who had freaked out and ran away like an idiot? It had a nicer ring to it.

“I think you may have me confused—”

Then the well-intentioned bastard cut me off.

“You were having a panic attack. It was just outside Walker’s Pharmacy,” he continued, and I started laughing uncontrollably.

“That wasn’t me!” I wheezed, trying to stop snickering. Ill-timed giggling was a serious problem of mine. It was probably another symptom of my fading health. I was pretty sure inappropriate emotional responses were a sign of tumors…somewhere.

Mr. cute guy stared at me like I had lost my mind.

I have, oh hot one. Trust me.

“What’s funny? Am I missing something here?” he asked, and I tried really hard to get myself under control. I covered my mouth and shook my head, scared to let myself speak.

I really shouldn’t be allowed out in public.

“You scared me that day,” he kept on saying, and I wished he would just shut up. I darted a look around and was thankful no one was listening to this painfully uncomfortable discussion.

“Uh, look, I don’t think—”

“I’m Beckett Kingsley. I guess we should be on a first-name basis by this point,” he interrupted me once again. Was this guy incapable of letting me finish a sentence? It was more than a little annoying.

“Oh, well, hey,” I replied lamely. What else was I supposed to say? Thanks for helping me through just one of many embarrassing situations I find myself in on a regular basis? Thank you for now bringing up said embarrassing situation in a room full of complete strangers. You’re a real peach, dude.

“What’s your name?” he asked. His eyes were too bright. Too deep. It was hard to look at him. It was impossible to look away.

“Corin,” I said, fumbling with my name like a simpleton.

Beckett smiled. And when he smiled, it lit up his entire face. Damn. Those straight, white teeth were lethal.

Thank goodness I was currently immune to pretty faces and perfect smiles.

I gulped down the still scalding tea and dropped both the empty cup and plate on the table before backing away, palms out, as though to ward him off.

Stay back, evil fiend!

His smile faded and then vanished and was replaced with a frown.

“I really need to get to my seat,” I told him in a rush and all but ran to the circle of chairs in the middle of the room. Beckett stood beside the snack table, still frowning, and I felt like a total moron. I really should learn some social skills.

“Everyone take your seat. Grab a coffee and some refreshments and make your way to the circle,” a woman with abnormally large calf muscles and the shadow of facial hair called out from the front of the room.

I found myself seated between an older man wearing a flat cap and a Mickey Mouse watch and a girl not much younger than me who was furiously gnawing on her fingernails and smelled faintly of fried food. Great. Now I was hungry. I wished I had eaten some of the pastries.

But the diabetes, Corin! I reminded myself.

“Mint?” Mickey Mouse–watch man asked, holding out a bag of pink candy. I shook my head.

“No thank you,” I croaked.

“They’re really good. You should take a couple. Put them in your pocket for later.”

What?

To be polite, I dug my hand into the bag and took a few and then shoved them in my pants pocket.

I hoped I would remember they were there before I did the wash.

“I’m Geoffery,” Mickey Mouse man said.

“Corin. I’m Corin,” I muttered. Crap, this was small talk!

“Glad to meet you, Corin.” Geoffery gave me a smile, revealing several gold-capped teeth and a mouthful of chewed pink mints. He must really like them.

“Yeah,” was all I could say. Have I mentioned that I suck at get-to-know-you conversation?

Thankfully Geoffery started talking to someone else, leaving me to try to disappear into my chair.

I made a point to not watch Beckett join the rest of the group.

I sure as hell didn’t notice that he took a seat beside an elderly woman wearing a flowered moo-moo.

And I most definitely didn’t notice Beckett Kingsley most definitely noticing me.

Stop looking at him already and he’ll stop looking at you! I silently chided.

My chest felt tight and I found that I was having trouble breathing. I rubbed at a sore spot just above my left boob. It would be just my luck to drop dead of a heart attack in the middle of a support group for heart patients.

I rubbed a little harder as the pain became more pronounced. A small bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck. I really hoped to hear from Dr. Harrison today. I was becoming more and more convinced that there was something wrong with my heart. As I looked around at the room full of individuals with their own health problems, I felt sure that I was in the right place.

I glanced at Beckett again and our eyes met.

I looked quickly away.

“Hi, everyone! I see a lot of familiar faces, but a few new ones as well. For those who don’t know me, my name is Candace Ramey and I have been a cardiac care nurse for twenty-two years over at Saint Luke’s Health Center. I started this group five years ago hoping to provide community response and support for those who have experienced cardiac failure or have chronic cardiac conditions. This is meant to be a safe and compassionate place to discuss your experiences and your fears.”

I barely listened to Candace. I was staring a little too intently at her incredibly large hands. They were beefy and I thought I could see a sprouting of coarse, black hair below the knuckles. Crap! She could crush a watermelon with those suckers.

I looked up and found that Beckett was once again watching me. What was up with this guy? Did I have food on my face or toothpaste at the corner of my mouth? I tried to discreetly wipe my lips. Subtlety was not my strong suit. He smirked and I dropped my hand back in my lap.

I didn’t like his scrutiny. It made me nervous. I wasn’t used to being the center of anyone’s attention.

Finally Beckett shifted his eyes to Candace, who was still talking animatedly with her muscular man hands.

I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable. The sore spot in my chest became more evident, and I could hear a rattle in my chest when I breathed.

“Are you okay?” Geoffery whispered. I gave him a pained smile and nodded. He patted my arm in a paternal way that I appreciated.

These groups had a way of instilling instant camaraderie. We were all bound by conditions we had no control over. And for that day…that week…however long I was able to stay until a diagnosis was invariably ruled out, it gave me a sense of belonging I didn’t have anywhere else.

“Does anyone have anything they’d like to share to start with? Any news that you want to talk about?” Candace asked the group, giving us a rather lovely smile. She looked at Beckett who seemed to have zoned out. “Beckett, we haven’t seen you in a few weeks. I hope everything is okay,” Candace said kindly. Beckett startled a bit at the sound of his name.

He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter.

“I had a cardioverter defibrillator implanted two weeks ago. Given my high risk for life-threatening arrhythmia, my doctor felt it was my best option for preventing a future cardiac arrest,” Beckett explained, lifting his hand, his fingers slipping underneath his collar for just a moment.

Cardioverwhat? Beckett so casually used a lot of really big words that I didn’t understand.