Page 145 of Make Me Yours
I let Lilah speak first because her voice matters and she deserves to be heard in her own words. It’s only when she’s finished that I lean forward and look straight into the lens.
My voice is steady.
Controlled.
But every syllable is wrapped in truth.
“What people saw in that photo wasn’t violence. It was intimacy. It was private. And it was real.” I pause, squeezing Lilah’s hand. “This woman isn’t just my best friend, she’s the one I love. The same person I’ve loved since college. Whether she realized it or not, it was always her. And no matter what happens in the future, it will always be her.”
Lilah lets out a shaky exhale beside me, and her grip tightens in mine.
The camera keeps rolling, but all I see is her.
And all I feel is the truth of my words. Raw and out in the open, no longer hiding between stolen glances and half-finished sentences.
It’s us against the noise.
Us against the narrative.
Us against the world.
And after a decade of friendship, it finally feels like we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.
46
LILAH
The silence in the car is thick but not uncomfortable.
Well, not exactly.
I sit with my hands folded neatly in my lap, my jacket wrapped tightly around me like armor. My mind continues to replay the interview on a constant loop, stuck on one moment.
One statement.
“This woman isn’t just my best friend, she’s the one I love.”
He said it so plainly.
As if it had always been obvious.
And maybe to him, it was.
But not to me.
The city blurs past the window as we drive toward the penthouse. The lights, the traffic, the noise all fade to the background. Inside the car, it’s just me and the echo of his words.
Steele doesn’t try to fill the silence. One hand rests on the wheel while the other is draped casually over the gearshift. Every so often, I catch his gaze flicking to me.
Checking in.
Watching.
Waiting.
But he doesn’t push.
He never does.
