Now that he’d tossed a buoy to a drowning victim, he needed to get them both to shore. Lewis’s hazel eyes brimmed with tears, but not one of them fell. The cords in his neck throbbed with tension, and the veins of his arms bulged as if the beet bucket had been laced with steroids. Below a trim, pert nose stained with splotches of hot pink, Lewis’s nostrils flared, then contracted. His hands clenched into fists. His jaw trembled, a tremulous fault set to blow. But Lewis held the line, all the way around the union to the street leading away from campus. Elijah didn’t know where to take him. What to ask. What to do. What to fucking say. Since waiting for Lewis to initiate something was clearly not an option, and everywhere Elijah looked was a possible land mine, he decided he’d call in reinforcements. Except when he pulled out his phone and opened the texting app, he had no idea who to aim the bat signal at.
