Page 13 of Between the Stacks

“I understand. I’ll have a rough outline of the idea to you by tomorrow afternoon and a logistics framework the day after. Scott and Cole are resourceful boys. We both know once they set their minds to something, they can get it done.”

“See that you do,” she said. “If you can pull this off, I think you’ll have a hit on your hands, especially with the boys. Those two are making waves in the camming industry. Might be time to ask them if they want to expand after this.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll talk with you tomorrow. If anything changes, I’ll let you know as quickly as possible.”

After ending the call, I went back to Lyra’s room. I knew she’d be hungry especially after spending time in a hospital. Knocking on the door, I waited for her to answer. When she did, she had a pair of reading glasses perched on the top of her headand she’d scattered what books she had along with her laptop on her bed. Exhaustion hollowed her beautiful blue eyes while the gray pallor of her ordeal, still colored her cheeks.

“Sorry to bother you,” I said, awkwardness taking root deep in my gut. She was an attractive, curvy girl. Young enough, however, to be my daughter. I shouldn’t be staring at her with lustful intentions, because make no mistake I was. She wasn’t a plus-sized model or anything of the sort. She had an hourglass figure her clothes did nothing to accentuate. Thick thighs I wanted wrapped around my hips. Breasts that would spill out of my palms, and a soft stomach I could palm and know would cradle my body perfectly. Take away the sickness of the fire and her stunning features would glow under the lights of the camera. I knew the perfect shade of red lipstick she could use—Cruel Ruby.

“Not a bother,” she said, though the toll of getting up to answer her door, dulled her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I made a mistake earlier,” I offered. “I gave you tea and forgot to ask you if you’d eaten since the fire. I can’t imagine hospital food is any good either.”

Her stomach picked the perfect time to rumble in agreement. A slight flush colored her cheeks, revealing the beauty I knew hid beneath the sickness and devastation of losing everything. “Food would be amazing.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Those snack bags didn’t do much for me.”

I could only imagine. “Well, I have a couple of friends coming over for pizza, I thought you might like to join us. If you feel up to it.”

She blanched. “Your friends? Doctor... Lowe, sorry, I’m only a student. I couldn’t intrude.”

I smirked. “Good thing they’re students too.” I had to think quick. “They come for tutoring. They’re in the Fire Academy andhave regular course requirements. I thought you might like a friend or two. Perhaps three.” I gave her my best devilish grin.

“Oh, well, uh...” She ran her hands down the oversize sweatshirt she’d taken from the donation bin the staff had set up in the gym. “I’m not dressed for, you know, company.”

“They understand what you’ve been through,” I stated. “They’d even been there after the call went out.”

“Oh.” The realization dawned on her. “Ohhh...”

“I believe you also have Statistics with Scott Ellison,” I added.

She frowned in thought. “Maybe? I’m sorry. I’ve kind of kept to myself.”

“Don’t worry.” I touched her shoulder, worried if I squeezed, she’d shatter into a million pieces. Given the circumstances, I wouldn’t blame her in the least.

Her stomach growled again. “Pizza does sound good right about now.”

“Doesn’t it?” I grinned. “How about this, you finish studying and when they arrive you can tell me what you’d like to do. If you don’t want to meet them, you can take the pizza to your room and eat as much as you like. No questions asked or pressure added. Should you decide to join us, there’s always space in the TV room for one more. We’ll probably end up watching a game.”

She nodded. “I don’t want to put you out, though.”

“You let me worry about the logistics.”

“Okay, cool. Yeah.” She bobbed her head, swallowing hard. “I’d like that. Don’t think I’ll be much of a conversationalist.”

“Again,” I stated, “not a big deal. You’ve been through an extreme trauma. Your throat and lungs are damaged. They’ll take time to heal.”

“I really could’ve used my mom,” she said. “Pathetic right. I’m supposed to be standing on my own two feet, making something of myself and instead, I sound so small.”

“Speaking of which,” I answered, knowing she wasn’t asking for me to fix her situation, just listen, “have you called home to let them know you’re okay? I know the college sent out an email to all parents and students explaining what happened.”

“Not yet.” She glanced down at her hands. Those delicate fingers still caked with grime that wouldn’t come off with just one wash or a single shower. “If I said anything before I was released from the hospital, she’d tell me to come home. Or worse, she’d come here.”

“We don’t want that, then?” I hedged.

“No. God, no. I come from a family of traditionalist wives. They stay home, cook, clean, raise the kids, and take care of their husbands. I didn’t want that.”

No, she didn’t. I saw it with the way she lifted her chin when I met her. There was a need to prove herself. To keep herself above the rest. Whatever the “rest” might be. “Well, after dinner you should try to call her. If you need any assistance to reassure your mother you’re fine, I’ll be here to help.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re being awfully nice to me, why?”

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