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When she returned to the bedroom, she climbed in her side of the bed, sitting up with her back against the headboard.

Then she reached over to gently rub his face and head.

He let out a long breath and stopped fidgeting.

“Feels… good. Thank…” He had his eyes shut still, but his face was turned in her direction.

Her heart hurt more than she’d believed it was capable of. “You’re welcome.”

“I hate this.”

“I know.” She gulped over the lump in her throat. “I do too.”

“Wish it would stop.”

“I know. I do too.”

“I don’t…” He made a choking sound, and she was momentarily terrified he was going to throw up his pill. But he didn’t. He cleared his throat and finished his sentence. “I don’t want… to die.”

There was no way she could hold back a ragged sob. Her whole body shook with the effort it took to keep it quiet. “I know,” she finally managed to say. “I don’t want you to die either.”

He was starting to sound groggier. His body was relaxing. Maybe the pill was beginning to take effect, because it soundedlike he was about to go to sleep. “Life was…” He let out an exhale that was almost a moan. “Life was just starting to… to get good.”

Eve sat on the bed and stroked Jude’s head, face, and shoulders for almost three hours.

It was too long.

She knew she needed to stop after an hour. Her back was hurting in this position, and she was getting a tension headache. Plus Jude was asleep and so was unaware of anything she did. But his sleep seemed restless. He shifted and tossed his head and occasionally released hoarse moans. And when she was caressing him, he was more settled.

Maybe she was imagining it. It could have been wishful thinking—the hope that something she did might help take away his pain. But there were enough signs to keep her going long past the time she should have stopped.

Irrationally, it felt like she was the only thing holding him together, so she couldn’t let go.

When she moved the wrong way and the muscles in her back grabbed painfully, she finally had to withdraw her hand. Very carefully she scooted toward the edge of the bed and tried to stand up.

Her back hurt so much she couldn’t fully straighten it. She breathed deeply and tried to stretch out, her eyes focused on Jude to make sure he didn’t wake up or moan again in discomfort.

His head moved back and forth slightly, but otherwise he didn’t react to her absence.

She limped into the bathroom, peed, and then washed her hands for a long time, staring at her pallid face, her messy braid,and the deep shadows under her eyes. She still couldn’t quite straighten her back without it catching with a sharp jolt of pain.

She finally splashed her face with cold water, then turned off the faucet and dried her hands before blotting her face with the hand towel. She braced herself on the sink countertop and tried to bend into a slow stretch of her spine. It took a while for her to work out the worst of the kinks, but eventually she could stand up straight.

Then it was like the floor collapsed beneath her. Her knees buckled, and she started to cry. Managed to stumble over and sit on the closed toilet seat as she leaned forward, wracked by silent sobs.

She’d thought she could do it. Marry Jude and help him. Do something good without it destroying her emotionally. She’d thought she could handle seeing him die because he’d never been all that important to her.

He’d never been the center of her life.

But now he was slipping through her fingers, and there was no way she could close her grip tight enough to hold him. They could go through the motions—pretend the bad stuff wasn’t happening so they could enjoy each moment as it came—but they couldn’t hold back the tidal wave of reality forever.

Jude was going to get sicker.

He was going to die.

He was going to leave her.

And there was nothing in the world she could do to stop it from happening.

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