Page 14 of The Heat Between Us

"About a seven," I admit.

She nods, making a note on my chart. "That's to be expected. We'll get you something for the pain. Your lungs are sounding better today—the oxygen is helping. If all goes well, Dr. Aaron might discharge you this afternoon."

"Really?" I ask, surprised and relieved. Hospitals have never been my favorite places.

"Don't sound so excited," Gladys says dryly. "You'll still need to take it easy for a few days. No strenuous activity, plenty of fluids, and I'd recommend staying somewhere with someone who can keep an eye on you, at least for the first night or two."

That gives me pause. My rented room at Mrs. Finch's is private—that was part of its appeal. The garage apartment has its own entrance, and Mrs. Finch, while kind, made it clear she values her privacy as much as she expects me to value mine.

"I'm not sure..." I begin, but Gladys cuts me off.

"Something tells me that won't be a problem," she says with a pointed look toward the door, where Lewis's shadow is visible through the frosted glass. "Now, let me finish my checks, and then I'll send lover boy back in."

"He's not—we just met," I protest weakly.

Gladys gives me another of those knowing looks. "Honey, that boy has been sitting in that uncomfortable chair all night, refusing to leave even when we threatened to call security. I've known him his whole life, and I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

With that bombshell, she finishes her examination, leaving me to process her words. When she's done, she pats my hand. "The doctor will be in to see you soon. And don't worry about what happens next. Cedar Falls takes care of its own—and like it or not, you're one of us now."

She leaves, and moments later, Lewis returns, carrying two cups of what smells like coffee.

"Thought you might want this," he says, offering me one of the cups. "Hospital coffee is terrible, but it's caffeinated at least."

I take it gratefully, the warmth seeping into my hands. "Thank you. For the coffee, and for staying, and for..." I gesture vaguely, encompassing everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Lewis settles back into the chair beside my bed. "No need to thank me. Though I won't say no to that dinner I mentioned, once you're feeling better."

The casual reminder of his invitation—made in what we thought might be our final moments—brings a rush of warmth to my face. "You were serious about that?"

"Completely," he says, his eyes holding mine. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

"No," I say quickly, almost embarrassingly so. "I haven't changed my mind."

His smile could light up the room. "Good. It's a date, then."

A date. With the handsome firefighter who saved my life. Who stayed by my side all night to make sure I wasn't alone when I woke up. If my mother could see me now, she'd probably think I'd lost my mind—or worse, that I was acting out some sort of damsel-in-distress fantasy.

But there's nothing about this that feels like fantasy. The pain in my throat is real. The loss of my office and everything in it is real. And the way Lewis is looking at me, like I'm something precious he almost lost—that feels real too.

"The nurse said I might be discharged this afternoon," I tell him. "But she also said I shouldn't be alone for the first night or two. I'm not sure what to do about that. I don't really know anyone here yet."

Lewis doesn't hesitate. "You can stay with me. Or if that's too weird, my brother Ollis and his girlfriend Evelyn have a guest room. Or there's always Max and Jennie—they've got a spare room too."

The offer is so genuine, so matter-of-fact, that it takes me a moment to process.

"I couldn't impose like that," I protest.

Lewis shakes his head. "It's not an imposition. That's how things work in small towns, Chloe. People help each other out."

I think about what Gladys said—that Cedar Falls takes care of its own. It's so different from Chicago, where neighbors can live next door to each other for years without speaking. Where my own parents probably wouldn't have offered a spare room to a stranger, no matter the circumstances.

"Thank you," I say finally. "If you're sure it's not too much trouble..."

"I'm sure," Lewis says firmly. "And hey, this way I can make good on my promise to cook you the best cheeseburger in town. I make a mean one, even if it can't compare to Madeline's Diner."

The casual confidence with which he assumes I'll stay with him rather than his brother or friend isn't lost on me. Nor is theway it feels completely natural, despite the fact that twenty-four hours ago, we were strangers.

"I look forward to judging your culinary skills," I say, matching his light tone. "Though after hospital food, anything will taste amazing."

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