I didn’t ask why in the entire population of hotel receptionists I’d wound up in front of the most perceptive one, because the irony of it just sort of fit the tone of the last twenty-four hours.

Trying to smile back, I tapped my card key on the counter. “Agreed,” I replied, before heading towards the elevator.

I made it to the third floor; I even made it down the hall and into my room before the next batch of tears came. For someone who loathed crying, I was eating a lot of crow today. Taking a few seconds to kick off my shoes and coat, I slid under the covers and closed my eyes. I was asleep before the next tear could fall onto my pillow.

I spent the next three days never leaving my room. I slept almost all of Friday, watched the television unseeingly after that, and didn’t order my first meal until Saturday afternoon because I’d lost my appetite. Even at that, I had to force myself to finish half of my toasted cheese sandwich. In between channel surfing and sleeping, I took showers. I preferred them to baths because I could pretend I wasn’t crying when I was in the shower. I even tried to find a ballet studio I could dance at just to get some of the pain sweltering inside of me out. Of course, not a single studio would be opened this holiday weekend.

I’d turned off my phone when I woke up on Friday because Jude had been calling it every half hour since earlier that morning. My guess was that he’d made it back to my dorm by then, only to discover I wasn’t there, and was going nuts trying to figure out where I was or worried what had become of me on those roads.

Turning my phone off, I reminded myself that a man who slept with another woman didn’t have the right to worry about me or be assured I was safe anymore.

I slept late into Sunday, wanting to delay the inevitable. The hotel had been like this warm safety blanket, keeping me out of line of the storm coming for me, but it couldn’t hide me forever. I had reality to get back to and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin my life over one guy who I shouldn’t have let into mine in the first place.

The ice and snow had melted by Friday afternoon, so the roads and my Mazda got along much better this trip, although the roads were a hundred times busier this trip thanks to all the holiday vacationers making their way back home.

It was late when I made it back to Juilliard. I told myself it wasn’t because I’d been stalling, but because I’d wanted to take in the sights of the city from behind the windshield of my car. Of course I’d been living in a state of denial all weekend, so why should I stop now?

The parking lot was almost full again, almost every light in the rooms turned on and streaming with people back from a long weekend. Pulling into my assigned space, I turned off the car and gave myself a few long breaths before getting out. I couldn’t put this off any longer.

Jude and his truck weren’t anywhere in view, so maybe I’d been right and I hadn’t been worth more than a few minutes’ chase and a gazillion phone calls. The thought was one of the most depressing ones I’d had to date.

I still had on the same outfit I’d left the dorm in on Thursday, but it was crumbled, dirty, and in need of a trashcan now.

I could smell the signs and faintly hear the sounds, even from the stairwell, that India was back. That was just what I needed. To curl up next to her while she made me some kind of hippy tea that contained I didn’t want to know what, while I spilled my guts and she gave me some sage advice that was along the lines of sicing a voodoo witch on him.

Shoving open the stairwell door, which felt twice as heavy as it used to, I stiffened as soon as I turned down the hall. The same figure, in almost the same position I’d peered at in my rearview mirror four nights ago, was crouched down the hall, staring at my door like he was begging it to let him in.

I’d just taken my first step back towards the stairwell when Jude’s shoulders stiffened, right before his head snapped my way.

“Luce,” he breathed, saying it like it was a prayer.

I shook my head, my eyes filling with more damn tears as I kept backing away. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t do Jude Ryder anymore because it was going to wind up being the reason for my death or institutionalization.

“Luce. Please,” he begged, working his way into a stand. He wobbled, like he had run out of strength or was shit-face drunk.

I kept backing away. It was the only way I knew to keep me protected from him. I’d just keep retreating to the end of the earth if I had to.

“Luce,” he repeated, his entire face twisting. Balancing against the wall, Jude took a couple steps my direction. But he didn’t make it any farther than one before his legs gave out, his whole frame collapsing onto his knees.

It was instinctual, not rational, how I responded. Rushing towards him, I had this flash of panic that he was dying. I’d never seen Jude weak; I didn’t think it was in him. Vulnerable, sure, but never weak. And here he was, not able to support his own weight more than a step at a time.

Sliding to the ground next to him, I could tell right away his lack of balance and coordination wasn’t alcohol induced. His strained breath only smelt of Jude, and his eyes were clear.

Except when they lifted to meet mine, they clouded with some emotion that ran so deep I was sure I could never decipher it.

“God, Luce,” he breathed, his breath coming in haggard spurts, “don’t do that to me again.”

His arms folded around me, pulling me against him with all the strength he had left. It wasn’t his normal embrace, the one that felt like those arms could shield me from the whole world; this one was hollow and even a bit awkward.