Page 13 of The Heat Between Us

A thought strikes me, and I try to sit up, wincing as my body protests the movement. "My office—is it...?"

Lewis's expression confirms what I already knew. "It's gone. The whole building. I'm sorry, Chloe."

I sink back against the pillows, absorbing the news. Everything I'd brought with me, all my plans for that space—gone. And poor Mabel, her apartment...

"Was anyone else hurt?" I ask urgently. "Was Mabel really not home?”

"Everyone's fine," Lewis assures me quickly. "She was at her sister's."

"Thank goodness."

We're quiet for a moment, the reality of what happened—what almost happened—settling over us. I look around the hospital room, at the sunlight painting patterns on the bland walls, at the IV dripping steadily into my arm, at this man who saved my life and then stayed to make sure I didn't wake up alone.

"You know," I say finally, "this isn't how I pictured my first week in Cedar Falls going."

Lewis laughs, the tension breaking. "No? Didn't factor a life-threatening fire into your five-year plan?"

"Shockingly, no," I say, finding myself smiling despite everything. "It was supposed to be: clean office, set up computer, print business cards, maybe introduce myself to the local judge. Nearly die in an inferno was definitely not on the list."

"Cedar Falls likes to keep you on your toes," Lewis says with a grin. Then, more seriously: "What will you do now?"

It's a good question—one I haven't had time to consider. My office is gone, along with most of my possessions. I'll have insurance money eventually, but that takes time. And I'd sunk almost all my savings into the deposit on that space and the renovations I'd planned.

"I don't know," I admit. "Start over, I guess. Find a new space." I pause, then add with determined cheerfulness, "At least I know which buildings have outdated wiring now."

Lewis smiles at that, but his eyes remain serious. "You're staying, then? In Cedar Falls?"

"Of course," I say, surprised by the question. "It'll take more than a fire to scare me off."

Something like relief crosses his face. "Good. That's... good."

Before I can respond, the door opens and a nurse enters, clipboard in hand. She looks surprised to see Lewis.

"You're still here?" she asks, though her tone is more amused than censuring. "I thought Dr. Aaron told you to go home and get some rest."

"I'm rested," Lewis says, straightening in his chair as if to prove it.

The nurse rolls her eyes, but there's fondness in the gesture. "Sure you are. Well, I need to check on my patient now, so you can either step out or turn around while I examine her."

Lewis stands immediately. "I'll step out. Give you some privacy," he tells me. "But I'll be right outside if you need anything."

As he leaves, the nurse—her nametag reads "Gladys"—watches him go with a knowing look.

"That boy," she says, shaking her head. "Stubborn as they come. Wouldn't leave your side all night, you know."

I feel a blush warming my cheeks. "We were in the fire together. He saved my life."

"Mmm-hmm," Gladys says, checking my IV. "And now he's appointed himself your personal guardian angel, looks like."

There's something comforting about her matter-of-fact manner, the way she treats Lewis's presence as simultaneously extraordinary and perfectly natural. Like maybe it's not so strange that he stayed, that he cared.

"How long have you known Lewis?" I ask as she takes my blood pressure.

"Since he was knee-high to a grasshopper," she says. "Treated him for chicken pox when he was six, a broken arm when he was twelve, and a concussion his senior year of high school. Football," she adds, as if that explains everything. "I've known the family for years. Good people."

"He seems very kind," I say, not sure how else to respond to her implied matchmaking.

Gladys gives me a look that says she sees right through me. "He is. One of the best. Now, how's that throat feeling? Scale of one to ten, ten being you swallowed broken glass."

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