Into the Tomorrows (Bleeding Hearts Book 1) by Whitney Barbetti Page A

first bandage.
    “Trust me, when I get home I’m taking a four-hour shower.”
    “Four hours sounds a bit excessive,” he said as he placed the second bandage. “You don’t smell that bad.”
    I turned around when his hands left my back and narrowed my eyes. “Thanks,” I said, my voice flat.
    He smiled mischievously as he rubbed his hands together, then massaged his knuckles with the leftover ointment. “It’s a joke, Trista.” He tossed the ointment to me. “Apply this after your shower.” When I still said nothing, he added, “By the way, you smell good. Not sure what it is,” his throat moved as he swallowed hard, “but it’s good.”
    I nearly dropped the tube at that, feeling my cheeks flush. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just stared at him as he let that sink in before he turned around and headed back to the camp.

    * * *
    J ude was right , the ridges we came upon were breathtaking. Sharply, they rose from the earth and pierced the sky, gold and orange and yellow. In many places, it looked like someone had taken a giant fork and stabbed them before pulling away, leaving narrow slats of rock jutting out from the otherwise smooth wall.
    We walked along one ridge before taking a rest at a scenic overlook to eat lunch. This time, we had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that we assembled right on our laps, passing the sticky jar of jelly between us all. It felt good to sit under the hot sun, on a hot rock, with my pack set aside.
    As if he was feeling warmer toward me, Colin sat beside me and made small talk, asking me about the hike and how I was feeling. Something about our exchange made me think Colin was surprised I’d made the journey without much complaint. You and me both , I thought.
    More than once, I found my eyes meeting Jude’s as Colin talked to me. Each time, I quickly looked away, the intensity of his stare too much for me to deal with. I tried to give my attention to Colin because I felt strangely guilty for having given so much attention to Jude. But when Colin hadn’t come to my aid, Jude had. And what was I supposed to do, ignore his help?
    But Jude seemed onto me trying to ignore him, and he did his best to pepper the conversation with questions directed at me. I answered all of them, but was flustered by the way he cut through Colin’s questions.
    Colin would ask, “Isn’t it beautiful?”
    And Jude would ask, “What’s been your favorite part of the hike so far?”
    And I shouldn’t have compared them, I knew that. And yet I did, every time. Colin asked me questions that required very little of me apart from a “yes” or “no” answer. And Jude asked for more.
    After finishing my sandwich, I walked a little ways away from the group to sit by myself over the edge. As I looked out over the world around me, I let every emotion I’d been feeling come to the surface.
    I was overwhelmed; by my surroundings, by Jude, by how much my body ached and protested from the pain I’d put it through. But I also indulged in relief for having made it this far, for hiking what Jude called a solid twenty-two miles in three days. Yes, my body had discovered muscles I didn’t know I had—they were all singing their pain like instruments in a goddamn orchestra—but my body had pushed through the pain, delivering us to the climax of the hike: these ridges that would follow us down to the end of the hike, back to the trailhead.
    I debated removing my shoes to give my feet some much-needed air but after looking back at the guys I noticed they were already cleaning up from lunch.
    Jude and Colin walked toward me, looking out at the same view.
    “It’s sure something,” Colin said.
    “There’s not a lot that can make a human feel as small as this can,” Jude added.
    Why did I dissect these things so much?
    I took in the rolling mountains in the distance and could make out the sunlight reflecting off of buildings on the other side of the furthest mountain. “We don’t have much more