Page 54 of Hidden Hero

She swallowed a bite of omelet before replying, “You and I have practically stuck our heads in our plates, eating the way Max and Mia do!”

“Hey, I was hungry!” he defended with mock indignation, pointing his fork at her. “And for the record, your food is amazing.”

Her smile widened, and she shook her head before diving back into her plate. When the meal was finished, they pushed their plates aside.

Jeremy leaned back, cradling his coffee cup as he studied her. She lifted one foot onto her chair, resting her chin on her knee, her gaze soft as it settled on him.

“I hate to bring up work after we’ve just eaten,” he began hesitantly, “but I couldn’t help noticing something last night.”

She tilted his head, curiosity etched on her features.

“You… talked to the deceased,” he continued, his voice low but steady. “You told her you’d find out what happened and treat her respectfully.”

Cora nodded, wrapping her hands around her coffee mug. “You’re wondering why I speak to the dead?”

He shrugged, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “When you put it like that, it does sound odd. But when I saw you doing it… it felt right. I guess I’m just curious.”

She drew a deep breath, her gaze dropping to the table. “I had a brother who died,” she said quietly.

Her words struck him like a blow, his body tensing involuntarily. “Fuck, babe,” he murmured, his voice laced with sorrow. “I’m so sorry.”

“I was five when Adam was born,” she began, her voice soft and steady. “The doctors knew something was wrong right away. His brain hadn’t developed properly. They told my parents he wouldn’t live a long life, but they were determined to give him a full life, no matter how short it might be.”

She paused, her lips curving into a bittersweet smile. “There were so many things he couldn’t do. He couldn’t walk or even hold a spoon because of severe cerebral palsy. But we didn’t dwell on what he couldn’t do. My parents taught me to cherish what he could do. And let me tell you, Adam could smile like no one else.”

Her eyes glistened with the memory, and Jeremy’s chest tightened.

“He lived to be twelve,” she continued, “before a seizure caused a stroke. We were with him at the hospital when he passed. And that’s when I witnessed something I’ll never forget.”

Jeremy leaned forward, hanging on her every word.

“Throughout his life, we were surrounded by doctors and therapists—some who were incredible, and some who treated him like he didn’t matter because he couldn’t respond the way they expected. But at the end, I saw something different. The nurses and doctors spoke to him as though he could still hear them. They touched him gently, as if he might feel it. And when he passed…” Her voice caught for a moment.

She steadied herself with a sip of coffee before continuing. “When he passed, I’d been playing soft music for him with my phone. I had forgotten it when we walked down the hall and went back to his room to retrieve my phone. That’s when I saw one of the doctors leaning over his body, her hand resting on his chest. She whispered that he was at peace, and she would ensure he was treated with care and respect.”

Cora closed her eyes for a few seconds, and he stayed perfectly still, not wanting to intrude on her moment of memory.

Looking at him again, she continued. “That moment stayed with me, Jeremy. It shaped everything. I realized that even in death, every person deserves dignity. That’s why I do what I do.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. Reaching for her hand, he pulled her gently into his lap. She came willingly, her arms circling his neck as his arms wrapped protectively around her.

His chest felt impossibly full, his heart beating harder than it should. He hadn’t been looking for love when he met Cora. But now, holding her, he knew he’d found it. Maybe it was too soon to say it aloud, but he didn’t care. He’d hold on to the feeling until the moment was right.

24

Cora had moved back to her chair, her coffee cup in her hand. Her house exuded a calmness that felt like a balm to his often chaotic life. Though the rental had initially struck him as impersonal, it now bore unmistakable traces of her. Smiley-face magnets clung to the refrigerator, pinning up snapshots that hinted at a life he hadn’t yet fully glimpsed. Her mismatched coffee cups, some emblazoned with darkly humorous mortuary quips, told a story of a sharp wit lurking beneath her composed exterior.

He couldn’t help but wonder how she might decorate a home of her own—a place she could claim as hers entirely. The thought spiraled, and suddenly, he was picturing them decorating together. The idea startled him, as did the warmth that accompanied it. Her voice broke through his musings before he could examine the thought further.

“Tell me,” she asked, her tone light but her eyes keen. “What were your past girlfriends like?”

The unexpected question jolted him, and his head snapped up to find her watching him intently, her lips quirked in a teasing smile. Her expression was half curious, half playful. He reached for his napkin, stalling as he considered how to answer. The last thing he wanted was to paint himself in an unflattering light, though he figured Cora had already formed her opinions back when she hadn’t thought much of him at all.

A dry laugh escaped as he dropped the napkin to the table. “Honestly, you’ve probably thought worse of me than anything I could say right now.”

Her brows lifted in amusement, but she stayed silent, waiting.

He cleared his throat. “Okay, here goes. I had a girlfriend in high school, but after that? Not much. When I joined the military, I never let things get serious. And when I moved into state police work, I was too young, cocky, and laser-focused on my career to even think about settling down. Maybe I’d date someone exclusively for a few months, but I always knew it wasn’t going anywhere. At that time, a long-term relationship didn’t fit my plans.”

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