But one thing was clear. Beckett Kingsley with the megawatt smile was very, very sick.

I stared hard at the seemingly healthy man and knew that there really was no telling what was going on inside. Beckett’s skin was a good color. His blue eyes were clear and bright. He appeared…fine.

But if there was one thing I believed with an unshakable certainty, it was that looks could be very deceiving.

“It took me over a week to recover,” he went on, and the little old lady beside him with the adorable blue rinse reached out to squeeze his arm. There were clucks and murmurs of concern for Beckett, who was clearly very well liked within the group.

Candace chuckled. “I’m sure having to take it easy was tough for a guy like you,” she observed with familiarity.

Beckett gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, I had already resigned myself to the fact that I won’t be running a marathon ever again, but it still sucked being laid up on my couch watching Storage Wars reruns,” he joked. “But hopefully this will do the trick and I can get things as back to normal as I’m able to.”

He sounded so upbeat. So hopeful. How could he be so freaking positive? Was that normal? It didn’t seem normal. I didn’t know the details of Beckett’s health issues, but it was obviously pretty serious. And I knew, without a doubt, I wouldn’t be so goddamned perky about it.

I had always hated glass-half-full people. They made those of us incapable of viewing the world through their obnoxious rose-colored glasses seem somehow deficient.

I didn’t understand people like Beckett Kingsley. We were cut from a different cloth.

I started to feel light-headed and closed my eyes for a moment, concentrating on my breathing. I’d be damned if I’d have a panic attack here of all places.

My heart tripped over itself and I felt the pain in my breastbone. I really wished I’d hear back from Dr. Harrison. I opened my eyes and stared resolutely down at my hands gripped tightly in my lap, wishing I could block out the sound of that deep and annoyingly soothing voice that had already tattooed itself on my brain, whether I wanted it to or not.

“Then you can finally plan that backpacking trip you were talking about taking with Sierra this summer,” the father figure beside me piped up.

Beckett cleared his throat and I couldn’t help but look up. Beckett was still smiling, though now it looked forced. His entire demeanor had done a complete one-eighty. He wasn’t so happy-go-lucky anymore. Though I seemed to be the only one who noticed the minute change.

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

After a few minutes a few more people began sharing their recent news. Stella, the blue-rinse lady beside Beckett, had some nasty chest pains last week and had to go to the doctor. It turned out to be only heartburn.

Geoffery spoke up in between munching mints, about a discussion he had with his physician about upgrading his pacemaker.

Tammy, a stay-at-home mom with a congenital heart defect, talked about starting a new diet that was meant to help heart patients after watching a medical show on the Discovery Channel.

And Beckett engaged with them all. He asked them questions. He smiled. He was so ridiculously upbeat.

Normally I’d share my own story. I’d look for validation. Some assurance that there was really something wrong with me. That what I thought was wrong with me was exactly the same thing that was wrong with them.

But this time I didn’t say anything. I stayed quiet. And I waited for the heat of Beckett’s stare again.

Ugh!

—

“Hi, I don’t think I ever got your name,” Candace said, approaching me after group had concluded for the afternoon.

After the news-sharing portion of the session, Candace had rolled in an ancient television set with an actual VCR. I hadn’t seen one of those since elementary school. She popped in a dated video entitled “Overcoming Obstacles,” which was apparently meant to motivate the sick and downtrodden to keep on chugging.

Personally, I just found the whole thing depressing.

“Uh, I’m Corin Thompson.” I held out my hand and Candace shook it with her giant man hands. I made sure not to stare too long at the very obvious mustache above her lip.

“What brings you here?” she asked.

“I’ve been experiencing some heart issues. I just wanted to come for the support,” I answered vaguely.

Candace’s eyes were kind and she nodded knowingly. “This is a wonderful group, full of amazing, compassionate people. A lot of times some of the members will get together for a meal afterward. Many have been in this group on and off for years so they’ve developed an incredible bond. They’re very receptive of new people. I think you’ll be comfortable here,” she said genuinely.

“Thanks,” I replied with a weak smile.

Candace patted me on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll see you next week.”

I gathered my purse and headed out of the church.

“Corin! Hey! Wait up!”

Before I could contemplate whether I should ignore him, Beckett was by my side, grinning with his all-American aw-shucks grin. My eyes flitted down to the spot just below his collarbone that I had noticed him touching frequently during the group session. His shirt covered whatever was there.

“So, what did you think?” he asked, zipping up his black windbreaker. It had started to rain while we were inside and it was coming down steadily. I pulled my hood up over my hair and hunched down in my coat.

“It was okay,” I replied noncommittally. Beckett was watching me again and I fidgeted under his gaze. Did he look at everyone like he was trying to dissect them? Or was I just a lucky gal?

“I make you uncomfortable,” he observed, and I instantly went on the defensive. Did this guy have no filter? Seriously!

“Why in the world would you say that?” I huffed, shivering slightly. It was cold. Too cold to be standing outside engaging in painfully awkward chitchat with a man who had already seen me at my worst.

“It’s because of my helping you before. I noticed that the instant I mentioned it, you clammed up. You’re embarrassed,” he surmised, and I wanted to roll my eyes.

So I did.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I responded breezily, proud of how almost normal I sounded. Almost.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel weird. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I just couldn’t believe it was you. I’ve been thinking about you since that day. Wondering if you were all right. I was worried about you but had no idea how to find you.”

Beckett looked down at me with eyes that had gone suddenly serious.

“You were?” I asked, my voice high-pitched. Why did I feel all fluttery inside at his admission? Why did my heartbeat pick up and my palms start to sweat?

I took a tentative step forward, my feet moving of their own volition.

Beckett nodded and then gave me a shy grin that had me feeling a strange sort of buzzing all the way down to my toes. What in the world was wrong with me?

“I thought briefly about getting a police sketch artist to draw up a composite, but I figured that might be taking it a bit too far.” He chuckled. I chuckled. My stomach did a strange little flip-flop.

Our gazes met and clung briefly and for the first time ever I didn’t want to look away. I licked my suddenly dry lips, and I didn’t miss the way Beckett’s eyes dropped to my mouth and stayed there. One second. Two seconds.

Blue eyes turned molten and I was having a hard time breathing.

Get it together, Corin!

Three seconds. Four.

Then he looked away.

The belly flops turned into a full-blown stomach heaving that resembled nausea.

“Yeah, that would have been a little stalkery,” I joked, trying to dispel the tension that seemed to envelop us both.

“That’s what I thought too. Glad we’re on the same page with that one,” Beckett said and all was normal again. Whatever that meant.