Page 25 of Counted

Jude still had the headache the following day.

It was upsetting. Made him bleak and heavy as he forced himself to get up, take a run, and then shower and dress.

Maybe he wouldn’t have any more days of his life without a headache.

At breakfast, he tried to hide it so Eve wouldn’t worry and so his father wouldn’t wonder what was wrong. Eve tried a couple of times to start up a conversation, but Jude was too busy tryingnot to close his eyes or rub his head to respond in any sort of natural way. At her second attempt, his tone was curt and dismissive.

After that, Eve left him alone.

She talked occasionally to his father and otherwise appeared content with her own thoughts as they got ready for their trip and left for the airport.

Neither Jude’s mood nor his headache improved as the morning progressed.

They rode to the airport in his father’s chauffeured car. Eve read a book, and his father read the newspaper, and Jude sat there, staring out the window and hating his head.

When they got to the airport, it took all his will not to be actively rude to everyone getting in his way and forcing him to engage with their questions and offers of help. He wasn’t polite—that was obvious—but he managed not to bite anyone’s head off, so at least that was a small victory.

Eve had pulled inward. She barely acknowledged his existence and seemed to float along like she was halfway in another world, although she smiled at all the airport staff and random fellow travelers they encountered.

She seemed to make a point of smiling more warmly at the people Jude was terse with or frowned at, and that annoyed him even more.

Like he somehow needed to be atoned for.

He was relieved when they boarded the small, well-appointed plane. He collapsed into one of the large, comfortable seats and asked the attendant for coffee.

Eve sat right beside him. He had to force himself not to mutter that she didn’t really have to sit so close. There were only three of them and plenty of seats in the cabin.

Even his headache couldn’t compel him to be that mean to her, however, so he bit back his grumbles and closed his eyes,listening to Eve chatting with the attractive, polished attendant about how she’d never flown in a private plane before and how they were on their way to their honeymoon in Paris.

She sounded excited. She was happy about this trip.

Jude might have been excited too if his head hadn’t been threatening to explode like a bomb on top of his body.

The attendant responded warmly, and the two women had an extended conversation when Jude desperately needed the coffee that wasn’t being served.

Finally, when he was hit with a wave of nausea, he turned toward them and bit out, “Can I get that coffee?”

“Of course, sir,” the attendant said in a subdued tone. “I’m very sorry for the delay.”

When she walked away, Eve turned to glare at him with a jerk of her head. She even opened her mouth—no doubt to snap at him for being so rude—but she closed her mouth before any words came out.

Even that annoyed Jude.

Why the hell wouldn’t she say what she was thinking?

If he deserved to be yelled at, she should yell at him.

Her expression made her opinion of him more than clear. And he realized he’d never seen her so annoyed with him before. The only other time that might have come close was after his foolish, thoughtless proposal three years ago.

She’d rightfully believed he was being weird and creepy and inconsiderate, and she’d avoided even seeing him for almost a year.

His stomach sank as he wondered if she might start avoiding him now because he was being such an asshole.

He only had three months left. He couldn’t stand for Eve to get standoffish with him again.

“Sorry,” he muttered, fighting off another wave of nausea. He hoped to God he wasn’t going to throw up.

“I’m not the one you snapped at,” she said mildly. She peered at his face now that he was looking at her, and he knew—heknew—she could see his headache on his face. “Oh Jude.”

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