Jude was slipping back into the room before I could follow those thoughts down their depressing trail.

“Miss me?” he said, an armful of items tucked to his chest.

“Missed you,” I answered, dropping my head back into the pillows.

“Lucky for you, Luce, you chose to pick a fight around me,” he said, dropping the contents in his arms on the bed. “Someone who’s patched up, attended to, and sewn shut just about any wound man‌—‌or woman”‌—‌he smirked over at me‌—‌ “could inflict on one’s body.”

“I had it all planned out,” I said as he doused some cotton pads with alcohol. “Did you really think that was a heat of the moment I-really-should-have-known-better smack down?”

“Oh, no, Luce. That looked like you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Dabbing my cheek with the cotton, he flinched before I did. It stung, but no worse than any other part of my body.

“You’re getting to be a worse liar with each passing day,” I said, wincing when he ran the pad over my eyebrow. Must have earned myself a nice little gash there.

He grinned at my eyebrow. “Truth through osmosis.”

I started to smirk at him, but it hurt my face too much, so I settled for a small glare. He ignored it, continuing to work over my face meticulously.

I shouldn’t have, but I watched him working over me, his eyes narrowed in their focus, the tip of his tongue bit between his teeth, as he attended to every scratch, bruise, and cut. I’d never experienced hands as gentle as his were.

“Do I look like a mummy yet?” I asked a while later, when he leaned back and investigated my face after slipping another bandage into place.

“Nah,” he said, capping the tube of first aid ointment. “You look like the most beautiful badass I’ve ever seen.”

“High praise coming from the king of badass,” I said, smiling through the pain it caused to move my mouth.

Collecting up the empty wrappers and blood stained cotton pads, he dumped them into the garbage can. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”

“I told you,” I said. “Giving Adriana Vix a piece of Adriana Vix.”

“Yeah,” he said, dragging out the word. “But you’ve wanted to stick it to Adriana since the night dumbass Tony mentioned her. Why did you choose to do it tonight?” Shaking a bottle of pain relievers into his palm, he handed me three. I swallowed them down without any fluid.

“Because ‘dumbass Tony’ paid me a little visit earlier today that triggered the need-to-throw-down-Adriana trap.”

Jude studied my hands folded on my lap. “He told you what Payton told him?”

“Yeah.”

“So was it me or Tony who convinced you I was telling the truth?” The wrinkles around his eyes deepened.

“You, Jude,” I answered. “I promised you I’d trust you. I didn’t want to believe it, but I trusted you. Tony was just the one that shined a light on the truth.”

His jaw tightened. “So when you got in your car and drove here, were you coming to see Adriana? Or me?”

I couldn’t lie to him, but I couldn’t verbalize the truth. My lack of response answered his question.

His eyes closed as his head fell into his hands.

“Jude,” I began, “no matter whom I came here to see, I didn’t come here to hurt you.” Sliding down the bed, I wished the pain relievers would kick in faster. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. And that’s all I seem to be capable of lately.”

The only solution to keep from hurting him anymore was to leave.

“Thanks for the patching up,” I said, scooting off the end of the bed. “You really do know what you’re doing when it comes to fight wounds. Lucky me.” I flashed him a smile over my shoulder as I stood up. I staggered in place as every muscle screamed at me for the prostrated position. Gritting my teeth, I headed towards the door.

“Do you really hate being around me so much now that you’d high tail it away from me when you can barely stand?”

His words stopped me, but it was his voice that broke me. That deep, warm voice a girl could lose herself in had just been drained of all its soul.

“I don’t hate you, Jude,” I said, staring at the door. “I love you. That’s the problem. I love you so damn much it’s unhealthy.” I caught a sob that was about to burst from my chest. “That’s why I needed time and space. That’s why I can’t stay here with you a minute longer.”

“You’ve had time, Luce. I’ve given you your space,” he said, the bed moaning as he stood. “I’ve aged fifty years in three weeks’ time because I did my part and stayed away from you. But now you’re here. And maybe you’re not here because of me, but either way, you couldn’t stay away.”

He paused, and while I didn’t see what was playing out on his face because I couldn’t turn around and face him, I could imagine.

“You need more time? Fine. I can do that. I could do anything for you, Luce. But, please, for god’s sake, just give me some hope.”

A tear skied down my cheek, bleeding into one of my bandages.

“Give me the smallest sliver of hope there’s still going to be a place for you and me on the other side of this.”

I couldn’t lie to him. I couldn’t hurt him. Why these two desires couldn’t fit hand-in-hand was one of the reasons I’d concluded life wasn’t fair.