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Jude wouldn’t randomly be asleep at ten thirty in the morning on a weekday even if he was trying to run away from her. He must be sick.

It was too dark in the room. Eve couldn’t see anything clearly. She went to the window to edge the blind up just a couple of inches, enough to illuminate the room slightly.

Jude was lying on his normal side of the bed, the covers pushed down to his waist and his hair a mess. His eyes were closed, and his expression was vaguely pained.

As she looked, he shifted restlessly and let out a soft groan.

Shit. He definitely had a headache. And he was dealing with it all alone in this soulless hotel room instead of being home with his wife where he belonged.

She hurried to the bed and sat down on the side of it near him, reaching over to brush some of his hair out of his eyes. There was a small trash can beside the bed. He’d obviously been throwing up.

At least he wasn’t on the floor of the bathroom.

He squeezed his eyes tighter and groaned.

“Jude,” she murmured very softly.

He pried open his eyes, and she knew—she knew—the moment he processed her presence.

He jerked away from her hand with a pained exclamation. “No,” he mumbled. “No, no, no.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t…” He rocked awkwardly, squeezing his eyes closed again. “You can’t…” Then he made a strangled sound and lunged toward the side of the bed.

She lifted the trash can as he heaved into it, nothing much coming out.

When he’d finished, he fell back against the pillow, dead white and drenched in sweat.

She took the trash can into the bathroom to empty it and rinse it out. Then she returned it to its place and got a washcloth wet with warm water to wipe his face.

As she did, she asked softly, “When was the last time you took medicine?”

He made a couple of strangled sounds before he could get the words out. “Last… last night. Before I… I left.”

He could definitely take another nausea pill now, so she found the case in the bathroom and got one. She pried his mouth open and placed it inside.

She checked the label of his pain pills. Depending on what time last night he’d left—why the hell hadn’t she woken up?—he might be an hour or two early for another pill, but she didn’t care at the moment.

An hour wouldn’t do any harm in his situation. He needed to take it as soon as that nausea pill had taken effect.

She returned to the bed with the pill and a complimentary bottle of water from the hotel. It was room temperature, but it wouldn’t matter.

She sat beside him, wiping his face and neck and gently stroking his hair for about ten minutes. Then she said, “Try to take a couple of sips of water and see if you can keep it down.”

He mumbled something but didn’t object when she lifted his head and put the water at his lips. He took two gulps and then fell backward like it had exhausted him.

She waited a few minutes. He didn’t throw up, so she put the pain pill in his mouth and made him swallow it.

It looked like it hurt him as it went down his throat, but it didn’t come back up.

Relieved, Eve went to the bathroom and then washed her hands and face. She texted Nancy and Mr. Gregory to tell them she’d found him and would bring him home as soon as he was well enough to get out of bed. Then she took off her shoes and climbed into the bed beside Jude, sitting with her back to the headboard so she could keep rubbing his head.

He was really out of it now but still not asleep. He kept mumbling things she couldn’t understand and shifting positions.

After about half an hour, he was finally starting to settle. She hoped—prayed—that meant the pill was kicking in.

He surprised her by opening his eyes, resting his groggy gaze on her face.