Within These Walls (Within These Walls #1)(41)

“And you? How long have you been without sleep, Jude?” I asked.

He ran a tired hand through his messy hair. “I’m okay,” he replied.

When I gave him a pointed look, he amended, “I’ve had a few hours of sleep here and there. I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t leave you, Lailah.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him that he was being ridiculous. He needed to always take care of himself first. But as I watched him, tired and exhausted while speaking with such conviction at my bedside, I thought of everything he’d gone through in his past, and I knew that I couldn’t.

He was scared of losing someone else.

What sick, twisted sort of fate did I pull him into?

“I’m not going anywhere,” I tried to assure him, knowing I had no grounds to make such promises.

Like second nature, my fingers met the unshaven rough skin of his cheek, and he immediately leaned into my touch.

“I know,” he answered.

The elephant had officially landed in the room.

There were no more candid talks of dying and no more what-if conversations. The stakes had been raised. We’d gone from casual friends to so much more, more than I even had words to describe, and death had no place with the type of feelings we now shared.

How could we grow something from ashes? How could we expect a rose to blossom in the shadows?

Whatever this was, whatever I was feeling for Jude, I wanted it to grow. I wanted to see where it would take us, and neither of us could allow that with death looming over us.

That little bastard I liked to call hope came wiggling back into my mind. I couldn’t help but wonder if Jude was my sign that everything would work itself out.

Why else would I have been given a chance at love so late in the game if I weren’t going to be saved in the end?

“What are you thinking about?” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the bed.

It brought his head inches from mine, and I could smell the lingering scent of his shampoo in his hair.

“How do you know I was thinking at all?”

He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers over my forehead. “You get these cute little lines and creases up here when you’re deep in thought.”

“I do not!”

“Do so. I’m a master in all things, Lailah. You can’t argue with the master.”

“You couldn’t possibly be a master yet. I’m not that easy to crack,” I debated.

“No, you’re not, but I’ve been paying attention. It’s been hard not to,” he said.

His eyes darkened slightly, which caused my cheeks to flare up.

“Okay, grand master, if you know me so well, why don’t you educate me?”

He grinned, rising from his chair. I felt the bed dip an instant before his body brushed up against mine as he positioned himself on his side, facing me. I turned slightly under the covers, so I could face him and admire the view.

I never thought I could enjoy a hospital bed, but Jude just made living here much more bearable. Then, the thought of my mom or Dr. Marcus walking in while Jude was in bed with me made me incredibly nervous. Apparently, adult Lailah had taken a hike while I was passed out.

As if reading my thoughts, Jude said, “It’s Dr. Marcus’s day off, and your mom is teaching right now. Besides, I haven’t left this room in two days. I think it’s safe to say our little secret is out.”

There were so many things to process in that statement.

“How is my mom handling it? How did you manage not to leave when you had to work? Oh my God, you didn’t lose your job because of me?”

“First, you babble when you’re nervous, like right now,” he said with a warm smile. “Your mom isn’t a giant fan of mine, but we’re making it work. No, I did not get fired. I managed to stay in here because I’d refused to wear a mask, so I was not allowed to work until I demonstrated that I was symptom-free. So, when I can prove I still have no symptoms tomorrow, they’ll allow me to clock back in.”

“But, Jude, all those lost hours…” I said, feeling so guilty.

“I wouldn’t have been anywhere else, Lailah.”

His hand reached up to my waist, and I could feel the heat of his hand searing through the fabric of the blanket. My eyes wandered down his body, admiring the way his gray T-shirt clung to his expansive chest. His dark jeans were worn and faded but hung off his hipbones at just the right spot.

“Second, you blush when you’re embarrassed or turned-on. So, which one is it right now?”

My brain went back on, and my eyes flew to his. “What?”

“You’re blushing. Are you embarrassed or turned-on?”

“You’re crazy!” I answered, deflecting.

His grin widened into something mischievous, and his little dimple became even more evident. He leaned his head forward, nuzzling it into the curve of my neck where he slowly began scattering a trail of hot kisses up to my earlobe.

“I think it’s the latter,” he breathed into my ear.

Our lips met in a fevered kiss as we chose physical touch over words.

I could have lost you, his body said through his desperate touch.

But you didn’t, my kiss answered back.

I sank further into the warmth of his chest, so he could feel me alive and whole before him.