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stared resolutely down at my hands gripped tightly in my lap, wishing I could block out the sound of that deep and annoyingly soothing voice that had already tattooed itself on my brain, whether I wanted it to or not.
    “Then you can finally plan that backpacking trip you were talking about taking with Sierra this summer,” the father figure beside me piped up.
    Beckett cleared his throat and I couldn’t help but look up. Beckett was still smiling, though now it looked forced. His entire demeanor had done a complete one-eighty. He wasn’t so happy-go-lucky anymore. Though I seemed to be the only one who noticed the minute change.
    “Yeah, that’s the plan,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
    After a few minutes a few more people began sharing their recent news. Stella, the blue-rinse lady beside Beckett, had some nasty chest pains last week and had to go to the doctor. It turned out to be only heartburn.
    Geoffery spoke up in between munching mints, about a discussion he had with his physician about upgrading his pacemaker.
    Tammy, a stay-at-home mom with a congenital heart defect, talked about starting a new diet that was meant to help heart patients after watching a medical show on the Discovery Channel.
    And Beckett engaged with them all. He asked them questions. He smiled. He was so ridiculously upbeat.
    Normally I’d share my own story. I’d look for validation. Some assurance that there was really something wrong with me. That what I thought was wrong with me was exactly the same thing that was wrong with them.
    But this time I didn’t say anything. I stayed quiet. And I waited for the heat of Beckett’s stare again.
    Ugh!
    —
    “Hi, I don’t think I ever got your name,” Candace said, approaching me after group had concluded for the afternoon.
    After the news-sharing portion of the session, Candace had rolled in an ancient television set with an actual VCR. I hadn’t seen one of those since elementary school. She popped in a dated video entitled “Overcoming Obstacles,” which was apparently meant to motivate the sick and downtrodden to keep on chugging.
    Personally, I just found the whole thing depressing.
    “Uh, I’m Corin Thompson.” I held out my hand and Candace shook it with her giant man hands. I made sure not to stare too long at the very obvious mustache above her lip.
    “What brings you here?” she asked.
    “I’ve been experiencing some heart issues. I just wanted to come for the support,” I answered vaguely.
    Candace’s eyes were kind and she nodded knowingly. “This is a wonderful group, full of amazing, compassionate people. A lot of times some of the members will get together for a meal afterward. Many have been in this group on and off for years so they’ve developed an incredible bond. They’re very receptive of new people. I think you’ll be comfortable here,” she said genuinely.
    “Thanks,” I replied with a weak smile.
    Candace patted me on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll see you next week.”
    I gathered my purse and headed out of the church.
    “Corin! Hey! Wait up!”
    Before I could contemplate whether I should ignore him, Beckett was by my side, grinning with his all-American aw-shucks grin. My eyes flitted down to the spot just below his collarbone that I had noticed him touching frequently during the group session. His shirt covered whatever was there.
    “So, what did you think?” he asked, zipping up his black windbreaker. It had started to rain while we were inside and it was coming down steadily. I pulled my hood up over my hair and hunched down in my coat.
    “It was okay,” I replied noncommittally. Beckett was watching me again and I fidgeted under his gaze. Did he look at everyone like he was trying to dissect them? Or was I just a lucky gal?
    “I make you uncomfortable,” he observed, and I instantly went on the defensive. Did this guy have no filter? Seriously!
    “Why in the world would you say that?” I huffed, shivering slightly. It was