Heat flames my cheeks as I rest propped up on my elbows, spread eagle and exposed. I feel like he can see right through me, right into my tormented center, where my guts and ghosts and darkest parts are utterly vulnerable. I snap myself into action and slip down from the table, pulling up my sweatpants without meeting his eyes.
“What the hell, Cora?”
I spare Dean the tiniest glance as I smooth out my hair. He’s facing me, fingers perched on his hips, his gaze riddled with heedful regard. “It was nothing. Forget it.” I storm past him, making my way to the bedroom. “I assume we’re done here, so feel free to let yourself out.”
He’s hot on my heels. “No. We need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Are you kidding me?” He grabs my wrist, spinning me around as we enter the bedroom. His tone turns sober, his shoulders dropping. “This isn’t okay.”
“Then, go. I’m not keeping you here.”
Dean’s jaw clenches as he tries to hold back his frustration. “I thought I could do this. I thought I could live with whatever the fuck this is, whatever scraps you were willing to give me… but this is killing me. It’s killing both of us.”
I repeat my statement slower, putting emphasis on each word. “Then, go.”
“Is that what you want?” His hands rise, resting on my shoulders, and his breath catches. “Because when I walk out that door, I’m not coming back.”
His words do something to my heart. They wrap around the bleeding organ, squeezing the life out of it. “I can’t have what I want,” I say, my voice weak and frayed.
Dean lets out a breath, dipping his chin. “This isn’t healthy, Corabelle. We can’t thrive like this. We can’t heal like this. You told me in your car that night at The Oar that I was holding you underwater, that you couldn’t breathe, and I made myself believe it wasn’t true—I wanted to believe that we needed each other. That we had to cling and fight and claw our way out of this together.” He shakes his head with surrender in his eyes. “But you were right. We’re drowning here… and I’m gonna fuckin’ lose you if we don’t come up for air.”
My emotions start to soar like waves crashing down, drenching me in bitter truths. “I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t know how to keep you.” My tears fall fast, landing on my lips, tasting like the salty sea. “I’m just sinking.”
“That’s why we have to stop, Cora.” Dean tightens his grip on my shoulders and the pain is evident in his eyes. “I need you healthy. I need you put back together, smiling and alive and glowing. I think you’re still living in that basement, and as long as you’re tied to me, you’re tied to it. You need to get the hell out of there. You need to be free.”
I’m shaking my head, my face a mask of heartache. “I can’t let go of you.”
“Then let me let go of you.”
“No. Dean… please.” I reach for his shirt, clutching the fabric in my fists. Holding on for dear life. “You said we could start over. Maybe we just need a few days to think and regroup, and then…”
“It’s too late.” He kisses my forehead, inhaling deep. “It’s too late to start over.”
I lift my chin, finding his lips and pressing a kiss to his mouth. “But I…” I trail off. I drift away, choking on the words.
Dean frames my face with his hands, kissing me again, light and tender. “You what?” He pulls away to search my eyes, smoothing back my hair.
“I love you.”
I think both of our hearts skip a beat—the same beat. And I feel like that must mean something.
Dean’s eyes slowly close, as if he’s absorbing those words, replaying them over and over in his mind. Carving them into the deepest layer of his soul. “Shit,” he mutters quietly. “You’re making this so damn hard.”
I inch up on my tiptoes to capture another kiss, only this one is brimming and burning with everything that’s in my heart. Passion, possessiveness, love, desire, need. I can taste his hesitation as he goes to battle with himself. Right and wrong. Yes and no. Stay or walk.
Dean envelopes me in a fierce hold, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me to him, our mouths feasting and yearning. His tongue kisses mine, and for a moment, we are lost. We’re okay. We’re still swimming.
But he jerks back with a heaving chest, scrubbing both hands down his face as he retreats. “Goddammit. I need to go, Cora. I need to fuckin’ think about this.”
I step forward. He steps back.
“Dean…”
“I have to think. I’m sorry.”
I lower my eyes, forcing back an ugly meltdown. I fold my hands together, my knee bobbing with anxiety. “Fine. Just go.”
“Cora, don’t make this harder. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
“Go,” Everything comes bubbling to the surface—rage, disbelief, sorrow, rejection. I confess my love and he still wants to walk away. I feel shredded. Dismantled. “Go, go, go! Just get out.”
I try to avert my gaze, try to keep my eyes off his, but I can’t help myself. I glance up as Dean takes two steps backwards. His head is swaying side to side, his features pinched with conflict, and I swear I see tears rimming his eyes. But he keeps backing up. He keeps going.
He keeps walking away.
And when the front door closes shut, I break down.
Dean said we needed to come up for air, but I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.
He’s gone… and I can’t breathe.
Chapter Thirty
The ensuing week is a blur. I put my brain in autopilot mode to get through work without a breakdown, slapping an overly forced smile onto my face. My students are restless and distracted with Spring Break quickly approaching, which works in my favor, because I don’t think they notice the dark circles under my eyes and my hands that are constantly shaking.
I make my way through the school parking lot that following Friday afternoon, releasing a long breath when I hop inside my car. My fingers clench around the steering wheel as the tension I’ve been holding onto all day—the façade—begins to dissolve.
It’s just me and my emotional demons now.
But we are interrupted when my phone lights up with a new text message. I’m taken aback when I see Mandy’s name.
Mandy: Meet me at the ice cream shop @ 4:30
My brows furrow, my knees starting to tremble as I sit and stare at the screen. I glance at the time, noting it’s already quarter after four, then turn the car on and head into town. I spot my sister’s Kia Soul parallel parked in front of the familiar building, so I pull into the space behind it. I haven’t spoken to Mandy in over a month. She’s refused dinner invitations from our parents, and has ignored the few texts I’ve sent her since my hospital release.
I don’t blame her. Not at all.
Which is undoubtedly why I’m terrified to face her right now.
I inhale a breath of courage as I slide out of the driver’s seat and make my way inside on shaky legs. The sun is shining warm and bright today, melting the lingering patches of sidewalk ice and offering a welcome taste of spring.