Page 44 of Make Me Yours
Lilly leaned toward me, smiling. “Make that two—except just a single patty for me.”
I shot her a grin. “You sure about that?”
She blinked, surprised, then laughed—a real one this time, warm and alive. “I’m eating for two. Remember?”
When our food came, I handed her the paper bag, and she dug in like someone who hadn’t eaten in days. Watching her there, sunlight streaming through the windshield, grease-stained napkin in her lap, something in my chest eased for the first time in a while.
We ate in a comfortable, quiet place, and the radio played some old country tunes about second chances.
After a while, Lilly brushed a crumb from her shirt and said, “Thank you for inviting me to come along.”
“You didn’t need an invitation.”
She shook her head, smiling faintly. “Still. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
I took a long sip of my shake, buying time. “You’re not wrong. But… talking to Monique never is.”
“I get that,” she said softly. “I think I need it, too. Not the same way you do, but… I’ve got things I should probably unpack.”
I glanced at her then—really looked. She wasn’t just scared; she was trying. And that hit harder than I expected.
“Yeah,” I said finally. “We both have at least one suitcase full of shit.”
We finished eating, tossing wrappers into the bag. I started the engine, the rumble settling under my hands. The world outside felt wider than it had that morning—like maybe there was still room to turn things around.
As we pulled back onto the highway, Lilly rolled down her window, the wind catching her golden hair. She closed her eyes for a second, smiling faintly, and she looked lighter for the first time since the news.
I caught myself smiling, too. Not because everything was fixed—it wasn’t—but because I wanted to believe it could be.
The sign for the VA clinic appeared just as clouds rolled in, dulling the sky to gray. I pulled into the lot, and that old edge kicked in—tight grip on the wheel, eyes tracking exits, muscles remembering things my mind didn’t want to.
Lilly noticed. She didn’t speak; she just set her hand over mine on the gearshift until my shoulders eased. “We’ll be fine,” she whispered.
Inside, the air carried the usual mix— burnt coffee and tired voices. Veterans of every kind sat scattered throughout the waiting area, quiet and waiting for their turn with the ghosts.
Lilly’s gaze moved across the room, curious and gentle all at once. “It’s not what I expected,” she murmured.
“War doesn’t play favorites,” I said. “Doesn’t care what uniform you wore or who you were before. Its pain can last forever.”
She nodded, her voice low. “Guess life doesn’t either.”
That hit harder than she knew. I reached for the grounding trick Monique had drilled into me—five things I could see, four I could touch—and forced my mind to stay in the now.
When the nurse called my name, Lilly stood too.
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to,” she said, simple as that.
We walked through the narrow hall hand in hand, the sounds of the waiting room fading away. Monique’s door was ajar, and the scent of sage and sanitizer drifted out. She looked up, her eyes sharp and amused.
“Well, well,” she said with a grin. “You finally took my advice about building a relationship before anything else.” Her gaze flicked to Lilly. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”
Lilly managed a small smile. “You, too.”
Monique leaned back, still grinning. “Come on in. Let’s see what kind of trouble you two have gotten into.”
And just like that, the real work began.
