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Within These Walls by J. L. Berg (12)

 

 

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 fucking much, Lailah.”

Without a second thought, I grabbed the nape of her neck and pulled her body to mine before fusing our mouths together. She gasped in surprise, pulling back slightly, but then she surrendered, melting into me completely. My hands tightened around her waist as I deepened our kiss. I knew this had to be her first kiss, and I intended to make sure it was well worth the wait.

A new war raged inside of me. My hands wanted to feel every inch of her skin, trace every line of her body, and lay her back on the bed to devour her. My fingers shook as I steadied myself.

She’s innocent in every way.

Dr. Marcus’s words came back to me like a bucket of cold water on a hot summer day, and I stilled. I needed to be the man she deserved even if I never lived up to it. Being pawed and felt up in a hospital room wasn’t the way she needed to remember tonight.

With my breath coming out in heavy puffs, I touched my lips to hers, letting myself taste heaven one last time. I pulled back slightly while reaching up to run my hands through her silky strands. She watched me with wide, curious eyes, and I smiled.

“Did I just knock another one of those numbers off your list?”

Pink stained her cheeks, and she nodded. “What was that, Jude?”

I raised my eyebrow in amusement. “That was a kiss. Did I not do it right? Because I’d be happy to try again.”

“No!” she yelped. “I mean, yes! Crap!”

A sly smirk spread across my face. “It’s okay, Lailah. Breathe.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she took a deep breath, letting it slowly fill her chest. I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned down and briefly touched my lips to hers.

“Everything needs a beginning,” I said, lifting my eyes to hers. “This is ours.”

“But I’m leaving.”

“Yes, and I will miss seeing your beautiful face here, but I don’t live here.”

Something must have clicked just then because a goofy grin slowly spread across her face, and she blushed again.

“You don’t even know where I live. Oh God! You’ll have to meet my mom!”

The angry blonde I’d seen in the hall with Marcus suddenly flashed through my mind, and honestly, the thought of meeting her was a little frightening.

Lailah laughed, the sound of amusement echoing each note. “You’re nervous!”

“Maybe a little, but I’ll be okay,” I assured her.

She gave me a doubtful look, but I wrapped my arms tighter around her waist and squeezed with assurance.

“Besides, we’ll have to figure it out if we want to start working on that list of yours. I think a trip to the ocean is in order.”

Her eyes lit up at the idea. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on that list and start crossing out each and every one of those one-hundred-and-forty-three mysterious adventures.

“So, what do we do now?” She nervously bit her bottom lip.

I leaned in close, millimeters from her lips. She sucked in a breath, and her eyes widened in anticipation. A grin I couldn’t stop swept across my face as I placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before taking a step back.

“I’m going to go try to explain my extremely long absence from my duties to my supervisor,” I said.

A faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

“And then I will need to play a little catch-up. I’ll take my lunch break in a while, though and sneak back in here. It is your last night, and I do have a duty to deliver your dessert.”

“Yes, you do,” she answered.

I took a step back toward the door, keeping my eyes trained on her, until my outstretched hand felt the cool metal of the door handle. I turned to make my exit, still smiling like a fool.

Then, she called out, “Jude?”

“Yeah?” I answered, whipping back around.

“Just bring one pudding tonight. We’ll share again,” she shyly suggested, red blotches staining her already pink cheeks.

“You got it.”

God bless the creator of pudding.

 

 

“Tell me something about you, something I don’t know,” I said.

We were leaning back against her pillow, sharing the single pudding cup I’d brought, as requested.

I’d raced through the rest of my duties, making sure I had everything ticked off and accounted for before going to lunch. I hadn’t wanted to be negligent, but I also hadn’t wanted Lailah to wait up until after midnight for me. I’d clocked out and grabbed a quick sandwich and a cup of pudding from the cafeteria before racing back upstairs and wolfing down my sandwich almost whole. If the nurses had noticed me visiting Lailah’s room more than needed, no one said anything. I wondered if that was Dr. Marcus’s doing.

When I’d slipped back in here, I hadn’t bothered with the chair or the end of the bed this time. I needed to be near her. Side by side with our legs entwined, we shared one spoon and started a game of twenty questions.

“Um…what do you want to know?” she asked, dipping the spoon into the creamy, dark dessert.

“Anything.”

She thought about it for a moment and finally answered, “Ever since I was young, I’ve always wanted a sibling. I didn’t really care if it was a brother or sister. I just wanted to spend time with someone my age. I guess that comes from being alone all the time,” she said. “Do you have any siblings?”

I nodded. “A brother.”

“Older or younger?”

“Older.”

“Do you like him?” she asked.

I let out a thoughtful breath. “Like is a strong word. Tolerate is probably more appropriate. But it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.”

“How come?” She took a small bite of chocolate between her lips.

I watched the spoon dip into her mouth and reappear as I thought about how to answer.

How much should I tell her?

I’m neither weak nor fragile. Don’t think for one single second that I can’t handle anything you can.

She’d been treated like a porcelain doll her entire life. If I did the same, I’d be no different than anyone else in her life, and I wanted to be different. I wanted to be the one she could trust.

My conscience took that moment in time to remind me in detailed flashbacks of a younger, broken, and more desperate version of myself begging for Megan’s father not to give up her organs.

I told that asshole to take a hike.

The past couldn’t be undone. There was nothing I could do to change what had happened in the hallways of this hospital three years ago. The only thing I could do was make the life of the woman next to me better in every way possible.

Would anything change if I were to tell her that I was the reason she didn’t get that heart?

No. So, why bother?

It was a terrible, horrible lame excuse. In the back of my head, I knew I was still trying to protect her. I was doing the same thing that her mother and doctors had done her entire life—sugarcoating and suffocating the truth—but I was also doing it to protect me.

So, I’d do what I could and tell her everything else but that awful moment in my history. It would be more than I’d told any other person on the planet since the day I arrived in California.

“We had a falling out. I haven’t spoken to anyone in my family in almost three years.”

Her eyes met mine and softened. “That’s awful. How does that even happen?”

“Well, it’s a long and complicated sad story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“Okay, but first, I need to explain something,” I said.

I reached down and grabbed my ID badge. It had the trademark dreadful picture with bad lighting and my blank expression slapped on the front. Underneath was my name—Jude C.

“I don’t even know your last name,” she said before covering her mouth with her hand. She looked mortified.

As I peeled her fingers from her face one at a time, I noticed she felt warmer than normal. “You feel hot. Are you feeling okay?”

“What? Yes, I’m fine. You’re just trying to change the subject!”

I let it go, but I made a mental note to check her later. “No one knows my last name. It was something I asked for when I was hired. My last name is…well-known.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you, like, a prince or something? Is this the part of the movie where I get to move to a castle? I don’t think I can walk in heels.”

“My last name is Cavanaugh.”

There was no reaction. She just stared at me, trying to put all the pieces together.

“Like the bank, Cavanaugh Investments in New York? The family who makes the Trumps look like paupers? They’ve been all over the news lately. You must get confused with them all the time. Don’t they have a son named Jude who—” Her hand went to her mouth, and her eyes widened.

“Hasn’t been seen publicly for three years,” I finished her sentence.

“They just keep saying he’s on vacation or too busy in meetings,” she said absently.

“My brother and father have always been very good at lying. God forbid that we have a family scandal. They get away with it because I wasn’t around much in the years prior to…me leaving. People barely remember what I look like anymore. I was away at college for so long that the public lost interest, and that left my brother, Roman, plenty of time to soak up the limelight.”

She looked at me, her eyes searching my face, as if seeing me for the first time. This was what I’d feared—that she would see me differently.

Am I still Jude? Or would I forever be Jude Cavanaugh—heir to a multibillion-dollar company?

She continued assessing me, her eyes traveling over my features, down the length of my inked arms, and back up to my messy tresses. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, as I waited for the altered tone or the shocked gasp to come.

What I got was pudding on my face. I opened my eyes in amazement and found her giggling. Leftover pudding still clung to her pointer finger, and she was just leaning over to lick it off.

I stopped her, pulling the single digit into my own mouth and sucking it clean. Her eyes heated from the contact, and then they went round with unheard laughter when she once again saw the pudding smeared down my right cheek.

“You don’t look like him. You’re a little rougher looking,” she said, still giggling at her mess.

“Well, that was the idea. New look—”

“New life?” she finished.

I felt myself wince.

Screeching brakes, shattering glass, Megan screaming.

I can’t get to her.

Then, silence. Nothing but silence.

“Something like that,” I mumbled. “So, whom do I look like?” I managed, blinking rapidly to pull myself back from hell. Stay in the present.

“Jude. Just Jude.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So, are you going to help me out with this?” I pointed to the glob of pudding still clinging to my skin.

Her eyes traveled to where the direction of my outstretched finger, and I could see the hesitation. Finally, she leaned into me, her long strands of hair tickling my arm, as she nuzzled into my chest. I could smell the fruity essence of her shampoo as her warm, wet tongue darted out to touch my skin. I instinctively moved my hand to her waist, pulling her closer, and I reveled in the feel of her. She didn’t show an ounce of innocence as her body molded to mine. Her mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses, until it found my eager lips.

I groaned, feeling the timid touch of her heated fingers brush against the fabric of the top of my scrubs. My hand slipped under her shirt as I lay back, pulling her with me. The instant my hand touched her bare skin, I knew something was wrong. My eyes flew open, and I stilled, startling her.

“You’re burning up.” I gently laid her back down on the bed.

“It’s just hot in here,” she replied, sitting up to adjust her shirt.

Her hands flew to the collar of her shirt, and I watched as she retreated back into her shell. Was she afraid I had changed my mind?

I took a look at her cheeks. I’d mistaken the faint blush I saw earlier for nervousness or passion, but it wasn’t due to any emotion at all.

Lailah was running a fever.

I let out a puff of air as I prepared to be the bad guy.

She was definitely not going home tomorrow.

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