The memory of my lunchtime debrief with Merry and Trish floated to the surface.
Maybe it’s a mind game. He acts like the way he treated you before was just a misunderstanding, and then bam! He shows you who he really is.
What if Merry had been right? What if Yom hadn’t asked about my preference for the library out of concern but to use it againstme? Maybe that table speech had been less about defending me and more about declaring his right to bully me exclusively.Son of a...
I clenched my jaw and got in the car, envisioning P.M. happy with her new family to soothe myself as Rina drove me in the opposite direction of the library.
She flipped on the local college station just as the DJ was introducing a song called “Ride of the Devil’s Teeth.”
How appropriate.
“So, are you actually a college student?” I asked, deciding to focus on the stoic woman in the front seat. The least I could do was get some intel for Trish.
Rina turned down the garage rock to answer.
“Officially, yes,” she replied in what sounded like a fully American accent. “Stepan’s been with Yom since he was a teenager, and he brought me onto the detail during my first year after he discovered I spoke Russian, was an accounting major, and enrolled in ROTC.”
“So, you were taking the same classes as Yom anyway.”
Rina nodded. “It’s easier to do our job if no one knows we’re doing it. Stepan also holds a bench position on the Yolks, and don’t be surprised when he joins you in your non-fieldwork classes starting tomorrow.”
“What?” Alarm replaced my curiosity about her assistant to the villain origin story. “Don’t you think that’s a bit over the top? I don’t remotely need that level of protection.”
“Yet, it was necessary for me to intervene today.”
“That was a one-off—okay, a two-off if you count making sure P.M. got vet attention,” I admitted. Unlike Yom, my DISC compliance score was 93%. “But I don’t have any other doggie rescue stings in the works. And thanks to Yom’s speech, me and my food should be safe—wait, go back.”
A new realization stopped me short. “Are you saying you’ve been trailing me all day?”
Long silence. Then: “You should talk to Yom if there’s a change in my schedule you’d like to make.”
That’s exactly what I planned to do... whenever he got back to the house for dinner.
After Rina dropped me off, I stormed toward my guest room, ready to use more of my precious study time to make a list of counter-demands.
But I stopped short as soon as I threw open the door.
“Oh my God!” I gasped when I saw what he’d done to my room.
Lydia
Instead of thebedroom I’d spent all weekend hiding inside, the space had been transformed into… well, I could only describe it as a dream study haven designed for someone with my particular set of issues.
The paintings, bed, and dresser that were there before had all been removed, leaving the room with minimal furniture and nothing on the walls. Also, the lights had been lowered to a dim setting, just like the ones at the library. White noise hummed from speakers strategically placed on the door, windowsill, and the French doors that opened up to the outside yard.
A yoga mat lay where the bed used to be, along with one of those stability balls that various therapists and counselors had been suggesting I start using for years.
And instead of the couch that had been there before, there was a standing desk with one of those walking treadmills underneath—the kind of thing that would be perfect for my restless, low-focus days. But it wasn’t the only study option. A carrel sat just a few feet away from the standing desk, like an A or B option. A very familiar-looking carrel.
No. My heart dropped as I walked further into the room.It couldn’t be….
Actually, though, it could. The plaque on the side of the enclosed desk let me know this was the same Anne Tyler carrel I’d chosen for four years straight for my library assignments.
But there were thoughtful upgrades: an ergonomic mesh chair sat in front of the wooden cubby, instead of the hard ones at the library, and a lap blanket—what turned out to be a weighted, unbelievably soft one—lay on the seat.
On top of the carrel’s desk sat more gifts: Post-it notes, a set of noise-canceling headphones, and a charging station with all the right cords for my laptop, tablet, and anything else I’d need to power up.
It was a study haven better than anything I could have cobbled together at the library named after my father.
