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When it was down, he let his head drop back down to the cool tile floor.

“I’m going to call for a doctor or something,” she murmured. “I’ll be right back.”

She was starting to get up. He could feel it.

He reached for her blindly, fumbling until he got his fingers around a piece of fabric. Part of her gown most likely. “No.”

“It will just take a minute, Jude. I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”

“No… doctor.”

“But you need?—”

“No doctor.” His voice didn’t sound like himself. His throat was barely working. But he was sure of that much.

He didn’t want to see a doctor.

He could hear her breathing in the silence. Long, thick inhales and exhales. It took a minute for her to respond. “Okay. It’s your choice as much as it’s possible to give you that. But if you can’t get up and make it back to bed, I’ll have to call someone. You’re too big, Jude. I can’t carry your weight by myself.” Her voice wobbled audibly on the last two words.

“I can do it.” He had no idea where he found the strength to haul himself up to a sitting position. His body absolutely did not want to cooperate, all his limbs way too heavy and his head spinning sickeningly at the change of positions.

She reached down to help him as he stumbled to his feet. He had to lean on her, but not fully as he limped back into the dark bedroom and to the side of the bed where she’d been sleeping since it was closer.

He groaned as he sat down since his knees weren’t going to hold him up much longer. He was dizzy again. His stomach started churning. He was shivering and sweating at the same time.

Eve let him go and went over to the other side of the room. He didn’t know why until she came back, holding one of the small garbage cans in the room. She’d dumped the few pieces of trash into another can.

He reached out for it desperately as his stomach started heaving again. This time it was worse. Emptier. More painful. And almost nothing came up.

Except his pill.

When he was done, she took the can out of his limp hands. He leaned over and gripped his head, which refused to stop killing him. “Oh God, help,” he breathed. “Please help.”

Maybe it was a prayer. Maybe a helpless plea.

Eve’s presence was tense again as she stood above him. She was making soft, gaspy noises. He didn’t know why.

After a minute or two, she said, “Why don’t you try lying down? I’ll clean out the trash can and then keep it right here if you need it.”

He did what she said because she said it. He let his upper body fall down sideways and somehow managed to pull his legs up.

She left for a minute and came back to wipe his face again. When she was done, she stroked his hair very gently.

It didn’t hurt. It was a featherlight touch. But he couldn’t handle it right now. He moved his head away a little, blurrily worried that he might hurt her feelings.

She withdrew her hand immediately and helped him pull the covers up over his body. His chest was bare because he’d gone to sleep in just his pajama pants.

He didn’t want her to feel rejected. Not by him. The idea upset him almost as much as the painful pulsing in his head. “I… sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Jude. I’m going to step outside for just a few minutes, but I promise I won’t be long. Try to close your eyes.”

He let his eyelids fall shut. The world went dark but was still painful and throbbing. He wasn’t sure what happened after that.

He might have actually passed out.

The next thing he was conscious of was Eve. Her hand on his face.

He groaned because his head was still aching unbearably.

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