Within These Walls (The Walls Duet #1)(13)

“I got time. What else are lunch breaks for?” His warm gaze met mine as he took his turn.

“You mean, you don’t have any hot lunch dates?”

“Well, I did have plans.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to cancel. I mean, you could still try to…” The words tumbled out of my mouth like an overturned apple cart.

“I’m kidding, Lailah,” he said, his hand reaching out to touch mine.

My eyes wandered down to where his hand touched my skin, and I couldn’t look away. I felt branded. Like the brief times his fingers had grazed my skin before while he’d removed a blood pressure cuff or leaned over to check my IV block, my heart fluttered, and I felt my cheeks redden. My entire life had been spent being touched and examined. By this time in my twenty-two years, I’d become accustomed to random people invading my personal space, but my body reacted to Jude in a very different and completely new way. It nearly combusted at the slightest touch from him.

“The only hot date I’ve ever had on my lunch break has been the vending machine. Believe me, there is nowhere else I have to be,” he said, pulling his hand back to grab the tweezers.

“Oh…well, okay, if you’re sure. I mean, we could always do this another time.”

“You’re deflecting—on purpose. Come on, tell me about your day,” he challenged, calling me out on my purposeful rambling.

“I have to have a heart transplant,” I said simply.

Jude’s attention to the game immediately ended, and his green gaze met my eyes instantly. “Are they sure?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. I was born with an enlarged heart. I had open heart surgery when I was days old. Since then, I’ve had several more surgeries and dozens of other procedures. It’s kept me alive, but a damaged heart can only last so long.”

“Are you scared?” he asked softly.

“Yes, but mostly for my mom.”

“Why?”

“I just fear the what-ifs. What if the insurance doesn’t go through? What if something goes wrong? What if I don’t make it…then who will she turn to?”

“You don’t have any other family?” He chucked his empty pudding cup in the trash.

“No, I never knew my father. He bailed before I was born. Since my grandmother died, it’s always just been my mother and me. I just hate having to see her go through all of this again.”

“What do you mean, again?” he asked, the game now long forgotten.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been told I need a transplant. My heart started failing a few years ago. They told me a transplant was the best option then, so I was put on the donor list. Then, miraculously, one became available.”

His brows furrowed together in confusion. “What happened?”

“I wasn’t supposed to know. They don’t usually tell you until it’s a sure thing, and you’re being called in for surgery, but Dr. Marcus was so hopeful. It wasn’t his fault,” I clarified.

He’d only been trying to do the right thing.

“Finding a match and in the same hospital was like angels bringing me a miracle. He was just trying to make sure everything was falling into place. He came into my room and told me that a woman had been in a car accident, and she was an organ donor. He said we were a perfect match, and it was hopeful.”

“What happened?” he asked softly.

“The family changed their minds at the last minute.”

Silence filled the room as I stared at our dark shadows against the wall. I finally looked down at Jude sitting back in the old blue chair. He’d grown incredibly quiet and still.

“And you said this happened here—at this hospital?” he asked.

“Yes, here,” I answered, wondering why he was asking.

“How long ago?”

“Um…it was right around my nineteenth birthday so it was three years ago. Towards the end of May I guess.”

More silence filled the air as Jude remained motionless. I didn’t understand this abrupt change in pace.

Did I upset him somehow?

Suddenly, almost startling me, he rose from the chair and turned to me. “I’d better go. I think my lunch break is just about over,” he said in an almost monotone fashion.

“Oh, okay,” I answered.

“I’m off the next two days, and when I get back, I might be pretty swamped, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get away,” he said rather quickly, taking a step backward toward the door with each word uttered until he vanished.

Looking around the room, I took a deep breath. Then, my eyes returned to the closed door.

I was alone—again.

I stared down at the abandoned board game, which we’d barely begun, and my empty pudding cup lying next to it. At that moment, the reality of my day finally caught up to me.

No amount of chocolate, silly games, or odd visits from nurses’ assistants could hide the fact that my heart was giving up on living.

What if I’m not ready for that?

After I’d found out the family had changed their minds, I’d been so upset that I asked Dr. Marcus to do anything he could to hold off on the need for a transplant. He wasn’t thrilled with my decision but he’d managed to make it work, finding alternate treatment methods over the last few years. That night had scared me and reminded me of how precious life was.