Page 22 of Make Me Yours
Maybe I don’t have everything figured out yet.
But then again, maybe I don’t need to.
All I have to do is take the next step.
And then another.
One heartbeat.
One choice.
One small leap of faith at a time.
And if I’m lucky, I’ll find something better waiting for me on the other side.
6
STEELE
Itake the last gulp of my protein shake and grimace. It’s thick, chalky, and tastes vaguely like artificial vanilla.
Behind me, footsteps pad into the kitchen.
“What’s in that?” Lilah asks, her voice husky from sleep.
I turn and shake the nearly-empty bottle. “Let’s see… protein powder, almond milk, half a banana, creatine, and some other stuff I probably can’t pronounce.”
She walks over, plucks the container from the counter, and frowns down at the label. “This has more chemicals than a science lab.”
I shrug, rinsing the shaker out in the sink. “It gets the job done.”
“Barely,” she mutters, turning the tub around. “You’re a professional athlete. You should be more careful about what you put into your body.”
I arch a brow. “Are you offering to be my nutritionist now, lucky charm?”
She glances up, lips twitching. “Well, apparently I’m your new assistant. And it’s the least I can do. I’ll start making smoothies for you.”
I blink. “You know how to make smoothies?”
She shrugs. “I’ve been playing around with recipes. I like them after workouts. They make me feel more balanced.”
I lean against the counter, watching her pull her hair into a messy knot, her eyes scanning the kitchen like she’s already cataloging potential ingredients. There’s a lightness in her voice that hasn’t been there in days, and I’d do just about anything to keep it there.
“You know,” I say, “if you keep this up, you’re gonna ruin me for my usual post-practice sludge.”
She smirks. “You’re welcome.”
I don’t say it out loud, but I like the idea of her making something just for me. I like it even more that she’s channeling her energy into something that has nothing to do with her ex.
My phone buzzes on the counter, screen lighting up with the building’s front desk number, just as I’m wiping out my shaker.
I swipe to answer. “Sanderson.”
“Morning, Mr. Sanderson,” Tommy says. “I got a delivery here for Miss Monroe. You want me to bring it up?”
I glance toward the hallway where Lilah disappeared aminute ago. “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, man.”
“No problem. Be there in five.”
