Still Beating

by Jennifer Hartmann

It was only three weeks, but it’s burned into every cell, every vein, every tainted pocket of my soul. Forever. And so is she.

“Every love story is worth writing, no matter how messy it might be,” Holly says absently, still stroking my hair. “I would like to read your book.”

Desire is the color green, and it floods me, bathing me in emeralds and jades and the waves of the sea.

Talking about her eyes 😍

You can’t tiptoe around your heart in fear of pissing people off or hurting their feelings. Sometimes we need to be a little selfish in order to avoid a life of complacency.”

“You’re the party, Cora. I’ve got cheap Aldi wine that will give you such a bad headache, everything else in your life will seem like a magical fairytale, consisting of Henry Cavill riding on a unicorn naked through fields of endless cookie dough ice cream and orgasmic bliss.”

“I wish you fought for me as hard as you fought to get out of that basement.”

love doesn’t exist without sacrifice. Sometimes those sacrifices are waking up ten minutes early to make your partner coffee. Sometimes it’s taking on a second job to support your family. Sometimes it’s staying up all night with a newborn so your significant other can finally sleep. Sometimes it’s shoveling the other person’s car out of the driveway after a snowstorm.” She places her palm against my wet cheek and smiles softly. “And sometimes it’s making the ultimate sacrifice and walking away for the greater good.”

Maybe love is singing her favorite song in the dark, just so she can sleep. Maybe love is giving away the shoes on your feet to help keep her warm. Maybe love is coming over in the middle of the night when the power goes out because you know she’s afraid of the dark. And maybe love is walking away because it’s the only way she’ll find the light again.

There’s no shame in the struggle, but you can’t stay there forever.

It’s still beating. You’re still okay. And I still love you. - Dean

“Corabelle… that was me fighting for you. That was me fighting for your healing, your joy, your smile, your laughter… your beautiful, broken spirit. I never stopped fighting for you and I never will.”

“Are you still mine?” Cora doesn’t hesitate. She reaches for my hand, placing it above her heart. “It’s still beating,” she says. Her face lights up with a radiant smile that looks exactly like how her heartbeat feels. “As long as it’s beating, I’m yours.”