With Every Heartbeat (Forbidden Men, #4)(11)

I opened my mouth, but wasn’t sure what to say. So I settled for shaking my head. “What?”

She snorted and motioned toward me. “Look at you. You’ve been here less than a day and you’re already mother-henning me to death, trying to spoon-feed me and tell me what’s best for me. I don’t want the hovering or the dictating with everyone telling me what’s best for me. Okay? And I certainly don’t want anyone’s pity.”

Shoulders hunching with guilt, I glanced away. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. I’d been so worried about her that I’d only been thinking of myself, wanting to make me feel better by pampering her, by fixing her. But I should’ve been thinking about what Cora wanted instead of what I thought I should give.

With a small clearing of my throat, I lifted my face with an apologetic smile. “So...no one else knows? Not even...?”

“Not even Quinn,” she said, reading my mind. “And you’re not going to tell him. You’re not going to tell anyone. I don’t want to be treated any differently than I would be if I were perfectly healthy.”

But she wasn’t perfectly healthy, and she needed to be treated differently.

I held my tongue, though. “I won’t tell,” I promised, though I felt extremely uneasy about the whole thing.

“Good.” Finished with covering the last bruise, she smiled perkily and clasped her hands together. “Now let’s talk about what you’re really going to wear today, because no way are you leaving this apartment in that. I have a reputation to uphold, and if you’re going to be my roommate, you can’t embarrass me.” She shuddered in revulsion as her gaze traveled down my figure.

Instantly self-conscious from showing so much skin, I hugged my arms over my chest. “It’s the only suit I have.”

“Well, it’s hideous. Come on, I think I have something for you.” She grasped my elbow and led me to a chest of drawers, where she pulled out the top one. “Damn, I didn’t even know they still made one-pieces.” She dug inside, pausing every few seconds to toss colored chunks of Lycra, polyester, and nylon over her shoulder and onto the bed.

All Cora had were skimpy bikinis. I waved my hands no at each one she picked up and tried to hold up to my body. Stepping in reverse away from them, I refused to even consider the idea.

Finally, she grew fed up and scowled at me. “Come on, Zo. You left home and came to me so you could finally live a little.”

No, I’d come here to save her life. But I winced with apology anyway, because I hated to disappoint her. “I’m sorry. I just...I can’t wear those.”

Cora held up a hand. “Okay, fine. It’s still too soon for you. I get it.”

If she thought I’d ever wear anything that revealing, she was nuts.

I grew worried over just how much she’d changed this last year. Cursing and drinking and skimpy clothes. Those things hadn’t been Cora a year ago, and she knew they weren’t me now. So what had caused such a transformation? And why was she trying to change me too?

More importantly, what exactly had I gotten myself into by coming here?





Cora wrangled me into one of her tight tees. It was a plain gray V-neck but hugged my breasts like a second skin and was short enough to expose my navel with every other move I made. The shorts were indecently short and just as tight. Then she put me in ankle socks and white sneakers. Compared to the swimsuit she’d put on—a contraption of hot pink dental floss attached to three miniature scraps of cloth—I looked like a nun who was covered from neck to toe, but I still felt majorly exposed.

After slopping my hair into a quick, high ponytail, Cora stepped back and clapped happily. “Ooh, this might even be better. You look like an adorable virgin, ripe for the plucking.”

My jaw fell open as my face heated. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

She sighed. “Oh, Zoey, I’ve forgotten how completely naive you are.”

I hated that word, almost as much as I hated being that word. And she knew it. Swallowing down my irritation that she would purposely and so coldly use it against me, I shied back and cleared my throat.

“You know, only a year ago you were just as innocent,” I said, hoping to make her remember, to draw out the friend I once had. But seriously, what kind of wild experiences had Quinn Hamilton given my best friend?

She laughed in my face. “Isn’t it awful how stupid I was? But that feels like a lifetime ago, thank God. Don’t you worry about it, hon. A few months here will help draw out your courage.”

Courage for what, I wondered.

“Goddamn dialysis,” Cora muttered as she studied herself in the full-length mirror, turning from side to side. “It’s gotten me way too pale.”

I thought she looked extra tan, but I had a feeling saying so would annoy her, so I just sat on her bed and waited for her to stop degrading herself.

After another minute of frowning and muttering, she met my gaze in the mirror. “Do you think this will actually look as good once it gets wet?”

I made a face at it, thinking it’d probably disintegrate and fall off the second she got spray back from a water hose.

She read my expression and groaned. “You’re right. I should wear the blue one.”

As she peeled off the pink top, I glanced at my wristwatch. We really needed to get going; the fundraiser was starting in five minutes.