Page 129 of Make Me Yours
“So, you thought you’d coast until something better came along?”
Devon winces. “That’s not what I meant.”
But he doesn’t deny it.
And maybe that’s worse.
He glances down at the floor. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay. Wherever you go or whatever you do, I’m sure you’ll land on your feet.”
Like I’m a cat who tripped, not a woman who was blindsided and left to rebuild.
I nod tightly. “Take care of yourself.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but I’m already turning away. The door chimes as I step into the crisp October air and exhale slowly.
Whatever Devon was supposed to be in my life, that story is over.
And this time, I’m the one closing the book.
38
STEELE
Istep off the elevator and into the penthouse, the door gliding shut behind me with a muted thud.
It’s quiet.
But it’s the kind of quiet I like now.
The kind that makes me smile.
Home used to be just a place to crash between games. A high-rise with sleek finishes, cold surfaces, and a view of Lake Michigan that didn’t mean anything to me.
But since Lilah moved in?
Now it feels different.
Full.
Alive.
Bursting with energy.
More than that, it feels likehome.
The way it was always meant to.
I toss my keys onto the credenza and shrug out of my jacket, glancing toward the kitchen out of habit. Half-expecting to see her barefoot, humming off-key to whatever moody indie playlist she’s fallen in love with this week, dancing around while she stirs something that smells like heaven and tastes even better.
But the kitchen’s empty.
No music. No movement. No scent of garlic or butter or whatever magic she usually brews up.
A frown tugs at my lips as my muscles tense.
It’s ridiculous how quickly the unease sets in.
“Lilah?” I call out, my voice echoing in the stillness as I move through the space.
