Still Beating

by Jennifer Hartmann

Dean inhales with a shudder, leaning his shoulder against the pole. “You know, I used to joke that we’d probably end up killing each other one day,” he murmurs, kicking at a small rock near his sneaker. “I guess I always had a feeling we’d go together.”

I think the ocean has finally found me. I think I like it here.

“It’s always been our thing,” he murmurs. “I give you shit and you give me shit.”

“You’re a fucking jerk.” I twist my body to the left, trying to get as far away from Dean Asher as I possibly can. I curl my body up towards the wall and retreat into the confinements of my own mental prison. I hear him let out a sigh from behind me, and I’m not sure what it means. Then he mutters under his breath, “I’m the only jerk you’ve got.”

“Any requests?” A calming sensation washes over me and my body relaxes. “You can sing Hey Jude again if you want. It’s my favorite.” “I know,” he says softly.

The muscles in his jaw tick. “I meant what I said,” he says to me, his tone low and hardened. “I’m getting us out of this. And I’m going to kill him for hurting you.”

He throws me a smile, just as tender, and I wonder how hard it was for him to produce such a thing at a time like this. “I’d give you my socks if I thought you had a way of putting them on.”

“Any day now, Dean.” A sigh escapes him. “All right. Fine.” His eyes look even bluer as they hold mine. “I had a thing for you first.” What? I choke on nothing. I start coughing and sputtering, and I have to force my eyes away from him. “What are you talking about?” Dean bites his lip with another indifferent shrug. “Before I started dating Mandy. It was freshman year and you walked into Mr. Adilman’s class wearing that little denim skirt and purple blazer. Your hair was all long and gold and had some kind of flower clip in it. I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.”

“I thought I was taking that one to the grave,” he admits with a grin. “But I couldn’t let you go on thinking I hated you. That’s so far from the truth.” “You sure could have fooled me. You could have fooled everyone. Why were you such a jerk to me?” His grin slips. “I told you. I was a kid, and that’s what dumb boys do when they like a girl. They pick on them.” “I’ll never understand that.” “Yeah, it’s stupid,” he says. “Then we both grew up, and giving each other hell was just a part of who we were. There was no going back.”

“He was cheating on you. I caught him outside The Oar with his tongue down some floozy’s throat. I roughed him up a little and told him to break it off with you or I would break his face.” I continue to stare. “I knew it would destroy you, so I told him to blame it on me. You already hated me. It was better than letting you hate yourself, or having you think you weren’t good enough for that douchebag.”

“You would have adopted both dogs because your heart is too big for only one.”

“I didn’t think you ever noticed my heart.”

“It’s impossible not to notice, Cora.”

“Cora.” I pause at the sound of his voice, spinning around to face him from across the room. “Yes?” Dean pulls his lips between his teeth, mulling over whatever he’s going to say. I watch his throat bob as he swallows, his grown-out hair sticking to his forehead. “I know I said you can go back to hating me when we get out of here,” he says in an angst-ridden voice. “But I really hope you don’t.” A solemn silence hangs between us, thick and palpable. I blink. Then I smile and reply, “But it’s fun.”

I want to run to her. I want to take her in my arms and whisper into her ear that everything is going to be okay. We survived. It’s over. But I don’t. I can lie to Mandy and her parents and my friends and my boss and my therapist… but I can’t lie to her.

We are bound, chained, tied—to our trauma and to each other. We’re in this together. And yet, I’ve never felt more alone.

“It’s beautiful, Dean. It’s… too much.” Cora glances up at me with misted eyes, then looks back down at the necklace. She removes it from the box, letting the delicate chain dance over her fingers as she holds it up and gazes at the gilded heart. “Open it. It’s a locket.” Cora blinks, surprised. I can see her fingers tremble as she unclasps the two pieces of gold and fixes her eyes to the inner contents. Still Beating. She doesn’t say anything. I wonder if maybe she doesn’t understand, so I start to explain. “I was thinking you can wear it over your heart as a constant reminder of everything you survived. As long as it’s still beating, you’re okay.”

I fall asleep with her heart pendant clutched in my hand.

“I’m sorry.” I’ve been saying that word a lot lately. I’m sorry I’m still fighting a battle I can’t win. I’m sorry I’m a mess, drinking away my problems. I’m sorry my head is filled with dark, depressing thoughts that often consume me. I’m sorry I can’t touch the woman I’m supposed to marry. I’m sorry I can’t fix the woman who won’t let go of my heart. I’m sorry I keep fucking up. I’m sorry I’m wasting my second chance.

“I feel like it was all my fault. On top of all the flashbacks and nightmares and madness, I have this coil of guilt in the pit of my stomach. You shouldn’t have been there, Dean.” Cora sucks in a fractured breath, her leg sliding up over mine. “I shouldn’t have called you that night…” I frown, thrown by her admission. Rattled by the absurdity of it. “That’s crazy talk. I was the one who set it in motion. That bastard asked if you were my girl and I should have fucking lied. I should have said, ‘Hell fucking yes, she’s my girl’ because I’d be lucky as shit to have you.”

“Cora, listen to me,” I say, still holding her face in my hands, still clinging to her like it’s the very last time. “Those were the worst three weeks of my entire goddamn life and they will haunt me forever.” I swallow. “But I’m glad I was there. And I’d do it all again, a thousand times over, just to keep you from going through that shit alone. I’m glad I was there with you.”

“I’m sorry. This says Corabelle.” “Yeah, but I go by Cora.” The class mutters a bored ‘hello’ as I continue to plan out our future in my mind. Homecoming and Prom are a given. It would be great if we end up going to the same college together, but long distance relationships aren’t so bad. We’ll make it work. We’ll be married by thirty, buy a big house in the suburbs, and have three blonde-haired babies by thirty-five. We’ll travel a lot, then move right by the ocean when we retire. I wonder if she likes the ocean. Cora glances over in my direction and our eyes meet for the very first time. Green. Angels have green eyes. She smiles at me, that same sweet smile, and this one is all mine. It fills me up and lights me on fire, and I know, I just know… I’m going to marry this girl one day.

I just thought they might be aggressive or have some issues, you know?” Cora swings her head back and forth, glancing at the resting animals. “They had a full assessment and the vet doesn’t think they were abused. Just severely neglected. They’re very attached to each other, so they came as a bonded pair.”

A bonded pair. They aren’t the only ones.

slaps my arm away. “Don’t call me that. Don’t touch me. Just leave me alone.” “You don’t hate me.” “Yes, I do!” Cora’s pitch rises as new tears break through, then she shoves me backwards. “I hate you. I always have.” “No.” “I hate you!” She shoves me again, her palms planting against my chest, causing me to stumble. “I hate you… I ha—” “No.” I grab her wrists and walk her back towards the far wall until she’s pressed up against it, shaking and crying. I cradle her wet cheeks between my palms and plant a kiss on her mouth, tender and soft. “You love me. You fucking love me, Cora.”

“I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair. “Always.” She can pretend to hate me. If it diminishes even a fraction of her pain, she can fucking pretend all she wants. But I know it’s love… it has to be, because if this isn’t love… Then I’m certain it does not exist.

My lips make their way to her ear again as my right hand slides between her legs and finds her clit. “You’re mine, Corabelle,” I breathe out, claiming her, branding her, marking her as my own. Her wetness slicks my fingers as I massage her into a frenzy, feeling her shuddering, spinning, begging for release. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she says, whispery, laced with lust. “You know I am. You’ve always known it.”

I told her I would stay with her until the darkness passed, and I did not lie.

Dean is like the ocean. Compelling, calling to me, within reach… So much magic. So much beauty. Something I want with every aching layer of my soul.

“I’m not sure if this makes it better or worse, but… I think he really loves you.” Mandy walks out, a small cry escaping her lips, and I start sobbing into the itchy bed covers.

He exhales slow and deliberate, pressing his hand further into my chest. “You only lose everything when you lose this, Corabelle.”

“You still mine?” “Always.”

Dean lies down and pulls me with him, and I spread the blanket over both of us as I snuggle into the crest of his arm. My legs intertwine with his, my hair haloing his chest and shoulder, and I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head. Peace. This is what peace feels like.

He is enough. His heartbeat is all I need.

“Is she…?” “She’s Matthew’s,” Tabitha confirms. “Matthew told me he’d always be with me, no matter what. He was telling the truth.” Her watery smile blooms as she admires her daughter. “Her name is Hope.”

“Hey, Cora. Can you give Dean a message for me?” I turn to face her on the snowy pathway. “Sure. What is it?” “Tell him I say thank you for pulverizing that evil son-of-a-bitch.”

“Don’t play the martyr, Dean. If you really loved me, you would stay.” “I do love you.” He’s on me again, his hands on my shoulders. “I love you. Madly. But with mad love comes madness, and what you need right now is peace. Don’t you get it, Cora? Don’t you see?” His grip on me tightens, his face directly in front of mine. “I’m leaving because I love you.”

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry, my sweet Corabelle. I love you so goddamn much.” I can’t stop crying. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop. Dean pulls back slowly, his hands lifting to my cheeks and wiping away my tears. He kisses my forehead, my nose, landing on my lips with a final goodbye. “You’re still my girl. You’ll always be my girl.”

And maybe love is walking away because it’s the only way she’ll find the light again.

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

He inhales deeply, exhaling his doubts and regrets against my temple. “Hi.” It’s a hi. It’s a hello. It’s a welcome back—I missed you.

My breath catches in my throat, possibly indefinitely, when I feel two warm hands capture my waist from behind with a feather light touch. And then his lips are up against my ear, his heartbeat pressed into my back, his proximity a painful reminder of everything I’ve been missing for the last eight months. “I promised myself I’d be good tonight, but I feel like you might make a liar out of me.”

“Monday is November 8th,” he says softly. I nod, our eyes holding, the air charged with emotion. “Yeah. The timing is not lost on me.” It’s almost our one-year anniversary. But we’re not celebrating an engagement, or a marriage, or some kind of superficial milestone. We’re celebrating survival.

He resists, keeping our eyes locked and stroking his knuckles along my cheek. “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.”

We just are. And maybe we always have been. Dean holds me that night in steadfast arms, our bodies exquisitely entangled, relaxed and content. He holds me like a lover. Like my own, personal defender. Like my savior. After all, he saved me from a serial killer. He saved me from an overdose. He saved me from myself.

“What were you dreaming about? You were smiling.” Cora stretches out her arms, the bedsheet falling further down her hip and catching my attention. “Shakespeare.” I squint at her. “Hmm. Is that code for all the new ways I used my tongue last night?”

love you.” I’ve replayed those three words over and over in my mind for eight, torturous months, wondering if I’d ever hear them again. Nothing beats the real fucking thing. I squeeze her to me, inhaling her daffodil hair and skin made of citrus, still lingering with remnants of our lovemaking. “I love you so damn much, Corabelle. I’ve thought about you every single day since I left, craving your kiss, your touch, the smell of your hair. You never left my mind. I drove myself crazy not knowing if you were really okay, or wondering if you’d moved on with someone else. It’s been hell.” I kiss her forehead, hesitating before I pull back. “But seeing the light in your eyes again is everything. And even if you had moved on and found happiness with some other guy… it would have fucking sucked, but it still would have been worth it to see you like this.”

“I’ve thought about you, too. Every day. Every night. I dream about us at the ocean sometimes, listening to the waves roll in, feeling the water mist our faces.” She kisses my lips, wrapping her leg tighter around me and hitching it over my waist. “It’s my happy place.” I smile against her mouth. “My happy place is wherever you are. And I want to make this work, Cora. No more hiding, no more holding back. I’ll wait for a job position to open back up here, and I’ll put in for a transfer. It might be a few months—it could be a year. But I’ll spend every goddamn weekend with you until I’m back for good.”

“We escaped from a serial killer, Cora. We can do anything.”