Within These Walls (Within These Walls #1)(32)

Twelve: It’s Getting Hot in Here—Jude

SINCE CLOCKING IN, I’d been moving through the motions of my duties, half-assing my job. I’d barely made it through a minute without thinking about the night before. My revelation regarding Lailah, my realization that whatever was going on between us went far beyond the boundaries of friendship, led me to one absolute conclusion.

I had no idea what I was doing.

I’d spent the last three years feeling nothing but pain and regret. Few other emotions had filtered through my psyche since I lost Megan.

Lailah made me feel…everything.

I was at odds with myself. An internal tug-of-war was pulling me in two different directions, and I had no idea which way to go. Behind me was my life with Megan. She had been my future, and when that had ended, I hadn’t wanted to move on. I hadn’t known how. I’d refused. I never expected there to be anything else. Now, when I looked ahead, there was this bright, shining path that scared the shit out of me. Lailah was a wild card, and I had no guarantees that I wouldn’t end up right back where I’d started—broken and alone.

I wasn’t sure if I could risk my heart again, but maybe I already had. What if I’d already given a piece of myself to the girl with the infectious laugh and the shy, innocent smile? Perhaps I was a goner from the start.

Shaking my head, I walked down the hall toward her room, and then I halted mid-step.

Maybe she deserved better than the man who had destroyed her future. She was too fragile to know the truth. Hell, I was too fragile to admit it.

Two broken hearts—we would destroy each other before we even had a chance to begin.

But no matter how many reasons I gave myself to stay away, I would still end up back at her door, ready for more chocolate pudding, nervous babbling, and brief glimpses of heaven.

Her zeal for life was addictive, and I needed my fix. I needed the light only my angel could bring.

I’m a selfish bastard.

My knock was answered by her lilting sweet voice. I turned the knob, opened the door, and found her standing by her bed, folding a few shirts. Several piles of clothes were neatly laid out on the mattress.

“Laundry day?” I asked, gesturing to the stacks of clothes.

“Um…no, not quite.” She put down the pink shirt she’d been folding and pivoted around to face me. She seemed hesitant and on edge. “I’ve been discharged,” she announced.

“What?”

“Dr. Marcus is letting me go home. He said since I’m healthy, or as healthy as can be expected, considering…” She trailed off since we both knew where that sentence was going.

Considering she’s dying…

“He decided it would be best for me to stay at home while we wait for news on the transplant.”

I glanced up and saw tears in her eyes. She wasn’t happy. She was upset.

Seeing that I’d noticed her stray tears, she quickly brushed them aside and turned back to her clothes and continued folding.

“When?” I asked, watching her in the moonlight streaming in from the window.

“Tomorrow morning. I could have left before dinner, but I wanted some time to pack, and…”

To say good-bye to me.

She hadn’t said it, but I could feel the words hanging in the air. I was the reason she wasn’t happy about leaving. This should have been a celebratory moment for her, but I’d taken that from her. By being here and interrupting her life, I’d taken the one normal thing away from her—going home.

Step away. Let her go.

“Well, that’s great news,” I said, trying to muster up a bit of fake enthusiasm.

She turned back around, and I saw surprise and maybe a touch of hurt in her eyes.

“Um…yeah, it’s awesome.” She gripped the shirt in her hands and then tossed it on the bed.

“I mean, no one wants to—”

“What is your deal, Jude?” she yelled, taking several strides toward me.

“My deal?”

“Yeah, you’re sweet and endearing one minute and then brushing me off the next. I don’t get it. What do you want from me? Am I a charity case? Do you get off on hanging out with the poor sick girl but then tire of me easily?”

Closing the last few inches between us, I got in her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I hissed.

“No,” she answered, “I really don’t. You don’t tell me anything. You are this big, giant mystery that I know nothing about. Why is that, Jude?”

“It’s too much,” I simply said.

“You mean, I can’t handle it,” she inferred.

“That’s not what I said, Lailah.”

“No, but that’s what you meant. You’re just like everyone else. I’m too fragile. I’m too weak. Let’s sugarcoat the truth, so it doesn’t upset Lailah. God forbid that we upset her,” she said in a mocking tone. “Well, I’m neither weak nor fragile. I’ve endured more pain than most people see in a lifetime, so don’t think for one single second that I can’t handle anything you can.”

“I know you can.”

“Then, why put me through all this? Do you even care a little about me?” Her voice was quiet and timid.

“I care too f**king much, Lailah.”