Into the Tomorrows (Bleeding Hearts Book 1) (21 page)

“Then tomorrow should be interesting.” He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, staring off into the distance as he thought around whatever was in his head. “It’ll be great.”

I hoped so.

W
hen Jude helped
me check into a hotel near the airport, he stood, hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning against my car while I stood in the door of my room. I wasn’t sure what to do here, to invite him in—which was obviously a horrible idea—or say goodbye and close the door so there was something more solid keeping us separated.

“I’ll pick you up at noon.”

I nodded, looking over the muscles of his arms as he pulled his hands out of his pockets and leaned one arm against the car.

“It’ll be okay, Trista.”

I nodded again, not sure what I was agreeing with or even why I was agreeing.

His hands curled around the frame of the car door and he seemed in no hurry to climb in and drive away. I opened my mouth to ask him to come in but shut my lips immediately. It would be a bad idea, I knew.
I knew that.
And yet, even though I’d see him the following day, I didn’t want him to leave me alone just yet.

But instead of saying a single word, I gave him a smile that didn’t reach my eyes, raising a hand in farewell.

Still, he didn’t move. He just leaned on the car, looking at the seat before looking at me. The air between us felt thick, heavy. And I wasn’t sure why—not really, at least. Despite the drama of the morning, we’d had an easy afternoon, easy conversation over lunch. Tomorrow, I’d be all alone with Jude, miles away from Colin and the uncertainty that threaded itself around us as a couple.

Jude held my gaze, and my stomach felt lighter than air. When he looked at me like that, I couldn’t help but be moved in a way that was unexplainable.

He walked over to me, and it was as if it was in slow motion. My heart leapt into my throat. My hands went clammy. When he looked at me, like I was all he could see, I felt it in the pit of my soul.

“Trista,” he said, right before his arms slowly came around me. The warmth of his arms was all-encompassing, and I didn’t realize how much I needed the hug. How much I needed him.

I tried to calm myself from the tremble that started in my bones. Having Jude hold me made me feel safe, in a way that was different from the safety of Colin.

I breathed in his juniper scent, let it soothe me. His arms were wrapped around my back, and his palms rubbed lightly down my spine. There was a certain kind of peace in his arms.

When he pulled back, I didn’t know what to say. I stared at his neck, the lightest stubble that pushed through his skin. I swallowed hard as my cheeks warmed and hoped he didn’t notice my reaction to his touch.

“Goodbye,” I said, but it came out like a squeak. I cleared my throat and gave him another smile, taking a step back into my hotel room. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Whatever he’d been thinking, his concentration seemed to break away from it for that moment. “Okay. Sleep well, Trista.”

I shut the door before we could keep staring at each other in a way that was more meaningful than I knew how to handle. I dug through my purse, to where I kept the foil-wrapped chocolates my grandfather had given me. I popped one, then two, then three right into my mouth.

And then I collapsed on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to erase Jude’s milky brown eyes from my memory so that I could concentrate on the enormity of what my next few days would be like.

* * *

“
H
ere
,” Jude said the following afternoon, as he lifted the buckle that must have belonged to me from his seat before sitting down.

I took it nervously, nearly dropping it before I could secure it to the other half of my seatbelt. Jude reached a hand between us, his fingers brushing innocently against my thigh as he grasped his seatbelt and I nearly jumped out of my seat. Instead, my left elbow banged into the side of the plane next to me, sending a pain up my arm.

A nervous laugh escaped from my mouth as I clutched my joint, biting my lip from the searing pain that tore along my arm. “Shit,” I said, half laughing and half wanting to cry—anything to release the nervous energy that had erupted the moment we stepped on the plane.

“Hit your funny bone?” Jude asked, oblivious to the fact that I’d freaked out when he’d touched my thigh.

I nodded, giving him what I assumed was the most pained smile I could manage.

Wordlessly, he took my arm in his hands and rubbed around my elbow joint. “Did you know your funny bone isn’t even a bone?” he said, his voice low and soothing as he massaged the pain away. “It’s your ulnar nerve. Runs along your ulna,” his thumbs pressed the underside of my forearm, “to your palm.”

The pain was dissipating rapidly, and I knew it had nothing to do with Jude’s gentle massage around my arm and everything to do with the distraction he was providing me by rubbing into my skin.

I felt the top of my chest go warm from his touch and hoped he didn’t see how affected I was by such a simple gesture. “Stupid to call it a funny bone,” I said, giving him a grateful smile.

“Well, the nerve runs along your humerus.” His fingers slid up to my upper arm and abruptly ceased movement. He pulled his hands from my arm and I sensed the change in his demeanor immediately. Maybe I wasn’t the only one affected by him touching my skin so gently.

A voice came on over the intercom, a flight attendant reminding everyone to secure their seatbelts before they started the safety demonstration.

I’d been most afraid of getting through security at the airport, but it had passed smoothly, so smoothly that I’d been on an almost high until we’d lined up to board the plane.

Jude had gestured for me to take the window seat. Initially, I’d said no. Probably fifteen times. But he’d insisted, telling me that I’d want to take in the views on my first trip on a plane.

But as I looked out the tiny window and heard the sounds of the overhead bins being latched closed, all I could think about was how I’d soon be hurtling through the air at five-hundred miles or so per hour. A fact that Jude had enlightened me to—among other
helpful
facts.

“How many planes have you flown in?” I asked, as the flight attendant walked past our row, checking that our seatbelts were secure.

“I’ve probably flown upwards of eighty times.”

“That’s a lot,” I said, swallowing the saliva that pooled in my mouth. I was a wretched ball of anxiety—anxiety that caused my foot to intermittently tap to no music, my hand to check and recheck my seatbelt, and my chest to rise and fall in rapid succession as I breathed in like I was running out of air.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching a hand over again.

Don’t touch me again, don’t touch me again, don’t touch me again,
I repeated in my head. I didn’t think having Jude touch me would calm my nerves.

But after just ten seconds of Jude’s hand atop mine on the armrest, I felt a flood of calming warmth run down my arms and chest.

“I’m sorry I’m falling apart,” I said, squeezing my eyes tight and letting myself fall into the comfort Jude was offering me.

“You’re not falling apart. You’re nervous. You wouldn’t be the first person to get nervous on their first flight.” His hand lay on mine, covering my entire hand. We weren’t clasped together, which seemed to be better at the moment. But it was soothing, the way he settled over me—reminding me I was okay.

I watched the safety demonstration but could hardly pay attention with Jude’s palm resting atop my hand.

I’d been touched romantically by one person my whole life. I was naïve to many things about physical intimacy, because that had never come naturally to me, but I knew the difference between friendly and something more. And no matter how much I told myself I couldn’t entertain the thought, it existed anyway: Jude was that something more. I just didn’t know what that meant yet.

When the stewardesses had finished and the captain had requested they buckle in their seats, the plane was already on the runway, moving slowly but gaining speed.

“Here,” Jude said, holding up a stick of gum. “For your ears. The pressure.” He kept his hand on top of mine as I took the gum from his other hand and popped it in my mouth. My anxiety had picked up again as the plane picked up speed, jumbling us in our seats, causing Jude to knock against me more than once.

I dropped my head on the headrest and closed my eyes as my fingers on the armrest curled around it, squeezing. Jude’s hand pressed more firmly on mine, as if he was reminding me that he was still there for me, and as the plane barreled down the runway and began to lift, I turned my hand over so that we were palm to palm, just resting our hands against each other.

My heart was beating rapidly, from the ascent into the sky and the way his hand stretched over the length of mine—forming a pocket of warmth between our palms.

The plane climbed higher in the sky, but I refused to look out the window. My eyes stayed closed, one hand gripping one armrest and the other resting—aligned—with Jude’s.

Once the plane seemed to be leveling out, I let out a sigh.

“How are you doing?”

I popped one eye open, seeing Jude inches from my face. I swallowed. “Fine. You?”

“Oh,” he said, smiling and moving his hand off of mine—finally, and regrettably. “I’m great. I’ve flown so much that I don’t worry about it anymore.” He grabbed the book he’d placed in the pocket in front of his seat. “The hardest part is over,” he said with an easy smile to me as he opened his book.

“I don’t know,” I said, flexing my fingers to get the blood moving in them again. “I think climbing the mountain might be harder.”

“As long as you don’t try any acrobatic moves over the side of the cliff, we should be fine.”

* * *

A
s the plane touched down
, I was glued to my window.

“Those are the Tetons,” Jude said.

The mountains were pointed in places, not sloping like the mountains I was used to. The tips were snow-capped, and the mountain range was so large, and covered in fog, that it had an ethereal quality. I was used to being near the Rocky Mountains, but this part of the Rocky Mountains seemed so different, perhaps because the land was so flat right before the mountains jutted up to the sky.

“Just wait until we’re at the top of Mount Washburn. You’ll be able to see the whole world.”

I’d never been outdoorsy. My backyard growing up was a five-by-five foot square of mud and rock—not exactly ideal playing conditions. But it wasn’t hard to see the awe of these mountains. I understood why Jude was so enamored with them, with being out in the wild.

Focusing on the grandeur of the mountains as we touched down, I didn’t even pay attention to our landing, slightly bumpy as it was. I had a fleeting, belated thought to hold onto the armrests for dear life, but I didn’t.

The airport itself had a lodge feel, with the large fireplaces, wood beams and dim lighting. As I waited for Jude to secure the rental car, I looked over the ceilings and the wooden slats, and the black industrial-looking fixtures of the building. When our baggage rolled on the carousel, I grabbed all of them and secured the heavy pack to my back. This was my job for the trip—to haul the heavy stuff. Despite Jude’s strength, he couldn’t wear a backpack over his bad shoulder until it had healed more.

We were in the car shortly thereafter and Jude left the airport like he knew exactly where he was going. After stopping at a small grocery store and grabbing two coolers, we filled them both with ice, water, and various deli-fare.

“There’s not a lot as far as food options in Yellowstone,” Jude said as I commented on the number of groceries he’d placed in the trunk. “Unless you want to sit down and eat an expensive meal. Besides, we’ll be on the road or walking so much that we won’t have time to sit down at a restaurant.”

“How many times have you gone to Yellowstone?”

“Four or five times.”

“And you keep coming back?”

“Yellowstone is huge—there are dozens of hidden gems that I’ve yet to explore. And it’s close enough to home to make it an easy adventure.”

I looked out the window on the way north to the park, taking in the mountains that rose up on the sides of the road, the expanse of land on our left side, with banks of forest in the distance. The road was lonely, two lanes, quiet. The views seemed endless, changing with each curve of the road. Queen sang from the speakers, and I found myself whispering the vocals to “Under Pressure” even as my heart felt completely at ease.