Still Beating

“Corabelle.”

I can hear my name being called from the other side of the shoreline.

I hate that dreadful name, and yet, it sounds so much sweeter flickering across his tongue. My hands wave around in the air, trying to grab his attention. “Dean!”

His head twists in every direction, until he spots me running towards him in the sand. “There you are,” he says, a devilish grin lifting on his mouth. “I thought I lost you.”

I leap into his arms and he catches me right beneath my thighs. Our noses kiss, my smile matching his. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Promise?”

My head bobs as I lean in to caress his lips with mine. I pull back, searching his eyes. “Are we going to be okay?”

Dean plants another kiss against my forehead, then sets me back down, my toes disappearing into the sand. He places his hand over my heart, while reaching for my own hand and placing it against his. With my hand to his chest, and his to mine, our heartbeats vibrating through our fingertips, he whispers down at me, “They’re still beating. As long as they’re beating, we’re okay.”

My smile broadens as tears coat my eyes. I’m about to reply when I hear my name being echoed across the beach again.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Corabelle.”

Dean releases a sigh, and it evaporates on a salty breeze that sweeps through. “It’s time to go,” he says wistfully.

“But I like it here.”

He cups my cheek in his palm, grazing his thumb along my skin. “We’ll come back.”

“Corabelle.”

My eyelids flutter, rejecting the artificial light spilling into my irises. The poetic sound of ocean waves transforms into angry beeps and buzzes, humming machines, and jumbled voices. My lips are dry and chapped as I part them to speak. “Dean?”

I’m met with a moment of silence before a familiar touch strokes my hair back. “It’s me, sweetheart.”

“Dad?”

Another presence nears the edge of my bed where I’m lying beneath itchy sheets, hooked up to needles and monitors. “Oh, Cora, baby,” my mother says as she sits beside my father.

I blink, willing their blurry faces to come into view. “How did I get here?”

I try to remember the events leading up to this moment. I try to recall the reason I’m lying in a hospital bed with my parents looming over me with tearful faces.

“You overdosed on your sleeping pills. Dean went to your house to check on you and found you unconscious. He called 9-1-1,” my mother tells me. “Oh, sweetie.”

She drapes herself over my stomach and starts sobbing as nurses begin to filter in, poking and prodding me.

Oh, God.

Memories trickle through me, and I feel sick.

I wanted to die.

I genuinely wanted to die.

Tears brim in my eyes, and I can hear my heart monitor start to climb as my breathing escalates. I lie there, dazed and horrified, while a nurse relays information to my parents in a voice that sounds like the adults in Charlie Brown. I wonder if I’m still underwater.

After the nurses check my vitals and file out, I glance up at my mother standing at my bedside. “I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

“Honey, none of that matters right now,” she replies, placing her hand against my shoulder. “We’ll talk later. You just need to get better.”

“Where’s Mandy?” I ask, my voice fracturing. “Did she want me to die?”

My father lets out a long sigh, somber and weighty. “Of course not, Cora. Your sister has been worried sick. She’s just down getting coffee.”

I swallow back an acidic lump. I want to ask my next question, but I can’t get the words out—they don’t seem at all appropriate. But the words must be written in my eyes because my mother dips her head, squeezing me gently.

“Given the situation, we thought it would be best if he weren’t here, honey. But he’s extremely worried about you.”

My cheeks burn with shame. I shouldn’t be wanting him here with me. I shouldn’t be silently begging for Dean to be holding me in his arms, kissing away my tears, and singing away the darkness. My parents shouldn’t know that’s exactly what I want, just by looking at me.

My father takes my hand in his. “Your sister filled us in on what happened. She feels responsible. I know this is going to be an uphill battle for both of you, and your mother and I are not taking anybody’s side here. We love you both. Our hearts are breaking for each of you.” He kisses my knuckles. “We’re just so grateful you made it through.”

Tears streak my cheeks, moistening my parched lips as I inhale a choppy breath. “How long have I been here?” Panic sets in, and I wonder how much time has slipped away. Is it a new year? A new decade?

“You’ve been unconscious for four days,” he responds.

I soak up the fact that it hasn’t been longer, but then my eyes widen with dread. “M-My dogs. Jude and Penny. Are they okay?”

My mother quickly nods. “They’re just fine. Lily has been house-sitting for you.”

Thank God.

I’m nodding my relief when Mandy walks in with a cup of coffee. She does a double take when she notices I’m awake. “Oh, my God…”

I turn my head to the opposite side, unable to look at her.

My father clears his throat. “Bridge, let’s give them a few minutes.”

I’m still looking out the window at the dreary winter day, listening to my parents shuffle out of the room. It’s a fitting backdrop to my new nightmare. I feel the bed shift as my sister takes a seat to my left.

Mandy leans down to hug me, her cheek pressed to my covered chest. “I never wanted you to hurt yourself,” she murmurs against me.

I close my eyes, swallowing down a fresh set of tears. I never used to cry much, but now I feel like it’s all I do. “You said you never wanted to see me again, and I don’t blame you.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you dead,” she insists, straightening with a sniffle. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“We can just add it to the growing list of fucked up things I do now.”

Mandy’s sigh reverberates through me. She hesitates before saying, “Dean was here that first night. He was a mess.”

My heart picks up speed, involuntarily.

“The doctors said he found you just in time. A few minutes longer and you’d be dead.”

Dean saved my life.

Again.

I wipe at my wet cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Mandy. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

A few silent beats pass by, and I’m afraid to look at her. I’m afraid to see her wounded, scornful eyes.

The bed moves as Mandy rises to her feet, and I finally spare a small glance in her direction. She tucks her tangled hair behind her ear, twirling her coffee cup between tense fingers. “I love you, Cora, and I’m glad you’re okay, but… this doesn’t wipe the slate clean. I’m still processing everything. It’s… a lot.” She squeezes the cup, her eyes closing. “A lot of damage was done, and I’m not sure when I’ll ever be able to forgive you.”

I nod, tears falling free and dampening my shoulders. “I understand,” I squeak out.

Mandy opens her eyes and pins them on me, her expression sober. “But seriously, Cor, don’t you ever pull that shit again. Get help. Find a new therapist if you need to. Join a support group. Get on medication. Just… don’t ever feel like we’d be better off without you.”

I nod again.

Mandy ducks her head. “I’m trying to understand, trying to put myself in your shoes, trying to sympathize with everything you went through that could have led to…” Her jaw tightens and she swallows. “But I’m still mad. I’m so mad at you, Cora.”

“I know,” I sniff. “You have every right to be furious with me. I’ll never be able to explain what happened because I don’t even understand it.”

Mandy nibbles her lip, glancing my way, then dips her chin. “I’m sorry I hit you. I had no right to put my hands on you.”

“I deserved it.”

“No,” she says. Then she sighs, dropping one arm to her side and taking a slow sip of her coffee. “Anyway, I’ll let you rest. I’m glad you’re okay—don’t ever think otherwise.”

A watery smile breaks through. “Thanks, sis.”

She doesn’t return the smile, but her eyes aren’t flaring with hate, giving me hope that maybe there is hope for us someday. Maybe we can fix this.

Mandy takes a few steps backwards and turns to leave the room—but her feet falter. She looks back at me over her shoulder, her eyes glossing over, glowing with fresh pain. “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.

I have no idea where I am for a moment when the mattress sinks with a new weight and an arm slinks around my midsection. I have one foot in a dream and the other in reality as I breathe in the familiar scent of cedar and leather. My body recognizes him, and I instinctively snuggle in closer to the warm body on my left, still not sure if he’s real or not.

“My sweet Corabelle.”

His breath against my ear makes me shiver. I blink myself awake as the room comes into focus, and my head tilts to the side, finding his eyes.

He’s real.

“Dean.” His name tumbles out like a broken whisper, our gaze locking, our emotions rising. God… to think I would have never seen these eyes again if he hadn’t found me. “I’m sorry.”

Dean touches his fingertips to my temple, then glides a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He looks tired and distraught—but there’s a distinct glimmer of relief swimming in his baby blues. His hand settles against my neck, his thumb skimming my jaw. “I thought I lost you.”

His words are familiar and they cause my brows to pull together. I force a smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Promise?”

My breath catches as déjà vu tickles me from head to toe. I think this is the part where I’m supposed to lean in for a kiss, but I press my lips together in resistance and nod instead.

“You scared the hell out of me, Cora. I had no idea you felt like that—which fucks me up even more because the signs were all there. I feel like I failed you.” Dean tightens his hold on my neck, desperation lacing his words as he swallows back his grief. “If you need space, I’ll give you space. If you need time, I’ll give you time. If you never want to see me again, I’ll pack my bags and move to fuckin’ Mexico, all right? But don’t you ever try to take away the one thing you fought so goddamn hard to keep.”

Dean places his hand against the swell of my breast encased in a hospital gown, closing his eyes as he revels in the feel of my heartbeat against his palm. I touch my hand to his, tears welling in my eyes. So many tears. I roll onto my side, trying not to tangle myself in cords, and press our foreheads together. “Mandy found out about us. She saw your text. She… she was so mad, so furious, and I flipped out, Dean. I was out of my head.” I inhale a rickety breath. “It was the lowest moment of my life. I thought I’d lost everything.”

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

I nod, and it takes all of my willpower not to lean up and capture a kiss.

We lie like that for a while, pressed together, face to face, his lips trailing tiny kisses along my hairline, my eyes, my nose, my chin. He avoids my mouth, and eventually we hold each other in silence, just staring and thinking. I ask him at one point, “How did you get in here?”

Dean smiles softly. “Your mom texted me. She said you were awake.”

“My mom was okay with you seeing me?” I wonder through a frown.

“She saw what a wreck I was. I was losing my damn mind the night they brought you in. I thought you were gone.” He shifts on the bed, pulling me closer. “Your mom took me aside and said it would be better if I stayed away for Mandy’s sake, but she’d keep me updated on your condition. Trust me, Cora, if it were up to me I wouldn’t have left your side.”

I raise my hand and press the pads of my fingers to his cheek, grazing them down his jawline. I watch his eyes flutter in contentment. I’m overcome by the feelings sweeping through me, wondering how something so beautiful, so powerful, so right, could be so very wrong.

But right or wrong, I know one thing is for certain. “This is real, isn’t it?”

I’ve been trying to deny it. I’ve been pushing away the blinding truths, telling myself we’re still trapped in that emotional prison of Earl’s basement. These feelings aren’t genuine, they aren’t real—they were manufactured by trauma and isolation. This was all a part of Earl’s twisted plan, and he succeeded tenfold.

Only… it’s getting harder and harder to believe that. The truth is in the way Dean holds me, the way he sings me to sleep and silences my demons with a gentle stroke of his hand. It’s in the way my heart beats differently when he’s near. It’s in the way I envision a future, a future I can never have, and he’s there. He’s always there.

It’s in the way he’s looking at me right now.

Dean studies me, his eyes darting over my face, memorizing every fine line, every crack and crease. A smile touches his lips, as if we’re finally coming to terms with what we both already knew. “Yeah, Corabelle. It’s real.”

I bury myself into his chest, nuzzling my nose to his shirt and breathing him in. “Can you hold me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

He hums a song against my hair like a soothing lullaby as I soak up his warmth and let it fill every cold, empty pocket inside me.

I cling to what will never be mine.

As my eyes close, my body calm and my mind in a temporary state of peace, I find myself drifting out to sea. I’m back on that beach, running into his arms, watching the seagulls fly overhead as he spins me around beneath the setting sun.

I’m still not sure where the words came from.

Were they a whisper on the wind in a magical dream? Or were they spoken into my hair, a soft confession, a haunting promise of everything that will never come to be?

Either way, I let the words sink in. They breathe new life into me as I fall into a restful sleep.

“I love you.”