With Every Heartbeat (Forbidden Men, #4)(98)

When he stepped forward, a hopeful yet uncertain expression, a shudder of longing tore through me. He’d followed me.

But then Cora said his name, and I nearly jumped out my skin. She raced past me, rushing to him, and horror filled his face. He turned away, yanking open his truck door, and slamming himself inside. When he started the engine, she banged on his window, but he sped away without slowing down.

I didn’t know what to think, what to do. I just knew he’d come here for me, not her.

He’d wanted me.

Maybe he had been talking to me when he’d spoken in his sleep. Or maybe I was making a mountain out of a molehill. He’d probably just come to apologize and tell me he regretted everything.

“Well, come on already,” Cora yelled at me, her hands on her hips.

So...we went. I still had her life to save.

I was so silent in the passenger seat I think it made Cora nervous. She finally huffed out a sigh, and grumbled, “I suppose you want to talk about last night, huh?”

I jumped. Last night? My brain immediately brought forth a dozen images in my head of last night: of Quinn on top of me, under me, behind me, pinning me to the wall. I paled and shook my head. “Not really.”

Cora lifted her eyebrows. “Seriously? And here, I was so sure I’d get the self-righteous, indignant speech about f*cking around and being unfaithful. I was actually expecting a bunch of questions like why. Why, Cora, why?” She finished the last three words on a whine as if trying to imitate me.

I shrugged and turned to stare out the window, ignoring the insult. She had a lot more to insult me about than she could ever guess. “I guess I’ve stopped wondering why you do things that make no sense to me.”

She didn’t have an answer for that. She made a huffy sound, and then said, “Well, I certainly didn’t know he was going to propose.”

I shot her a dry glare because she was still lying to me. “Oh, so you would’ve been faithful if you’d just known he was so serious about you?”

She shrugged, letting me know she wouldn’t have been faithful, no matter what. She didn’t apologize for it, I noticed. She acted haughty and justified, as if she’d done absolutely nothing wrong, as if she hadn’t just broken the heart of a man who’d been seconds—seconds—away from asking her to be his wife.

Just then, I hated her. And I didn’t feel sorry for sleeping with her ex-boyfriend. And worst of all, I didn’t feel bad about having such awful, terrible thoughts like I usually did when a stray awful, terrible thought entered my head. I just felt disgust for the woman sitting across the car from me.

But then the second passed, and the guilt and shame crashed down. I cowered in my seat, needing a distraction. “What kind of checkup am I getting today?” I asked quietly.

I’d already been through the physical exam. A doctor had looked me over from top to bottom, thoroughly, even going as far as to scrutinize every mole on my body to make sure they didn’t look cancerous.

“Psychological, I think.”

“Psycho...?” A cold sweat misted my skin. I turned to look at her, feeling like I might vomit. “What? No. I...I can’t. Not today. Can’t I do something different this time?” Anything different.

I could already picture the shrink drilling me for the truth.

Just how jealous of Cora are you? How much do you resent her perfect parents, her perfect social graces, her perfect boyfriend? Just how sore are you between the legs from stealing him from her and having sex with him all night long?

Today was the absolute worst day ever for someone to go picking around inside my brain.

Cora just sent me a dry glare, no pity whatsoever in her hateful gaze. “I didn’t set the appointments. You’re going.”



“So, Zoey. Why do you want to give Cora your kidney?”

It was the easiest, most obvious question ever. And yet it rendered me completely blank, because in that moment, I couldn’t remember why I was still so determined to do this. The only thing I could think to say was that it was because I’d told her I would. I would not go back on my word.

But after licking my extremely dry lips, I pushed out my shaking voice, “Be-because she’s my best friend.”

Lie. That was such a lie. A year ago, it would’ve been the truth. Hell, even a couple months ago, it had been the truth. But today, I didn’t even know if I’d consider her a passing friend.

Across the overly hot room, the psychologist nodded and made a note on his pad. For some reason, I wondered if he was really making a notation about me or if he was just playing tic-tac-toe with himself.

Then he lifted his face and sent me a smile that creeped me out more than it settled my nerves. “From Cora’s notes here, it says she was a year older than you and took you under her wing. Is that right?”

I blinked as he shuffled through a few pages as if to find the line he was quoting. But...what? Cora had already talked to him? Cora had...? What exactly had she told him about me? What did he already know?

My breathing began to escalate. “I...” I nodded because nothing he said was a lie. “Yes, I guess.”

“And she’s the, uh, the spearhead of your friendship? You’re the follower?”

I didn’t mean to frown, but something about the way he phrased that rubbed me all kinds of wrong—though, okay, that was how it had been back in high school. I had followed along with whatever idea Cora had, done whatever Cora had wanted to do, followed like a good, faithful little sheep.