Still Beating

by Jennifer Hartmann

“You’re incorrigible.” I narrow my eyes at the man I’ve deemed worthy of my most treasured insult. Incorrigible. It’s a damn good word. The man in question is Dean Asher—my sister’s prick of a fiancé. Dean laughs, seemingly unaffected by the hostility shooting from my eyes like hot lasers. He must be used to it by now. “What the hell does that even mean?” “Stupid, too,” I say, sipping on my watered-down cocktail with one arched eyebrow.

Mandy says I’m too picky. Oh well. Looks like my vibrator is stuck with me.

“You can sing Hey Jude again if you want. It’s my favorite.” “I know,” he says softly.

So has he been secretly in love with you this whole time?? Orrrr..

I roll my neck from side to side, my eyelids peeling open to find Dean staring at me from his corner with the faintest smile touching his lips. I make a sour face. “Were you watching me sleep?” His chains jingle when his shoulders shrug in reply. “I’m not exactly overwhelmed with better things to do,” he quips as that strange, little smile lingers.

Take a sad song and make it better.

A sigh escapes him. “All right. Fine.” His eyes look even bluer as they hold mine. “I had a thing for you first.”

Obviously 🤣

“I didn’t think you ever noticed my heart.” It’s a heavy declaration, and I hate that it’s true. Dean’s weary face grows even wearier as he absorbs my words. “It’s impossible not to notice, Cora.”

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.

When I break away to grab another beer, I find Cora in the kitchen clinging to her red plastic cup, engaging in conversation with Lily and a familiar looking guy I presume to be Jason. I pull a fresh beer out of the cooler and glance in their direction, deciding that I was absolutely correct: I don’t like Jason. He’s wearing a turtleneck for fuck’s sake.

“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.”

I blink slow, then glance down at the pill bottle clasped inside my fist. My whole life I’ve been terrified of the ocean. I’ve been scared of being dragged down into a cold, dark sea, swallowed by waves, clutching my chest and gasping for air. But this sea is not made of water. And maybe drowning is the only way out.

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.”

“How are you the worst and the best at the same time?” I ponder, plopping back down with a huff. Lily shrugs, joining me. “One of my many talents, along with singing the alphabet backwards and gardening.”

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

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.

“Just get better. There’s no shame in the struggle, but you can’t stay there forever. We’re all here for you.”

We can’t give our heart to another without loving our own first. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Breathing is good. Breathing is important. Breathing keeps us alive.

“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.”