38. Steele
STEELE
I step 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 like home.
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.
No answer.
My stomach churns.
Then, a little gray blur shoots out from under the coffee table, meowing as she skids across the hardwood.
“Hey, Waffles.” I crouch, reaching out as she trots over, tail held high like a tiny, fuzzy antenna.
She lets out another chirpy meow as I scoop her up and scratch behind her ears.
“Where’s your mama, huh?” I murmur, holding her up to eye level. She blinks at me like she’s keeping secrets. “You gonna tell me?”
Waffles responds with a dramatic yawn before flopping against my torso, purring like a tiny engine.
I chuckle and rub a hand down her back.
“Guess that’s a no.”
Her presence eases something in me. The place feels a little less empty with her snug in my arms. But it still doesn’t explain where Lilah is.
I carry Waffles with me as I check the bedroom, my heart ticking faster than it should. The door is open, and the first thing I spot is a pile of clothes on the floor near the foot of the bed.
That’s a good sign.
She’s here.
But something still feels off.
I set Waffles on the bed and give her a final scratch behind the ears before rounding the corner .
Lilah is huddled in the bathtub, knees pulled to her chin, arms wrapped around them as steam rises from the water. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her skin is blotchy. Not from the heat but from something much deeper.
The sight of her stops me cold.
“Lilah,” I say gently as I step into the bathroom.
Instead of glancing my way, she continues to stare at the surface of the water, her lashes heavy and wet.
I lower myself to the edge of the tub, close enough that our knees almost touch. “Talk to me, baby. Did something happen?”
Silence.
It’s the kind that makes my stomach twist and my jaw grind. My girl never goes quiet unless she’s hurting in a way that words can’t touch.
“Lucky charm,” I murmur, trying for lightness. “Do I really need to threaten to spank your ass, or is that even a deterrent anymore?”
A watery laugh escapes her lips. “Probably not.”
That tiny sound hits me harder than it should. But it’s something. A sign she’s still in there.
I reach out and graze her cheek with my knuckles. Her skin is damp and warm. “Come on, Lilah. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
She takes a moment to compose herself. “Ashley texted this morning and said there was a box of my stuff at the front desk.”
“You should’ve told me. I would’ve come with you.”
She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I figured it’d be quick. We had a brief conversation, and it was fine.” Her voice wavers on the last word. “And then…” She swallows hard. “I stopped at that little coffee shop I used to love. The one near the office.”
There’s a pause, and I brace myself for whatever’s coming.
“And I ran into Devon. ”
My hand stills on her cheek, but I don’t say a damn word. I just wait, wanting her to get it all out.
“I didn’t expect to see him there.” She blinks, her lashes trembling. “He looked good. Content. It’s not a version of him I recognized.”
My jaw clenches until it aches.
“I asked him why he hadn’t told me the truth sooner. About how he felt and wanting something different. You know what he said?” Her gaze lifts to mine. “That being with me felt like an obligation. Because our parents expected it. And he didn’t know how to get out of it.”
Fucking hell.
I close my eyes for a beat and count to three. The only thing keeping me from punching something is the fact that she needs me right now. Not some pissed-off caveman ready to throw hands.
With a ragged tone, she says, “I gave him nearly two years of my life. I kept trying to make it work. Trying to be the version of myself he needed. And all this time… he was just waiting for a way out.”
I can’t fucking stand hearing her talk like this.
Like she was disposable.
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I didn’t even see it. How messed up is that? I thought we were solid and that he loved me. And now I don’t know if I was ignoring the truth or just holding on to the version of it I wanted to believe in.”
She wraps her arms around herself, like she’s trying to hold the pieces together.
“He said it never felt right. That with Marissa, it’s just easier.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “He made me feel like I was the problem,” she whispers. “Like loving me was just too much.”
I don’t realize I’ve risen to my feet until I’m peeling off my shirt and tossing it aside. My pants and boxers follow. I step into the tub without a word and then settle behind her before pulling her into my arms. In this moment, all I want to do is absorb every ounce of her pain.
Instead of resisting, she melts into me. Her back curves into my chest and her head fits under my chin like it was made for that spot. My legs cage hers as I kiss the bare skin of her shoulder, anchoring her in place.
“He’s a coward,” I tell her. “And a real asshole for saying any of that.”
She doesn’t argue as my hold tightens.
“He never really saw you, Lilah. Not the way I do. He didn’t want to. And that’s his loss.”
She lets out a broken laugh, as if she doesn’t believe me.
“Devon never understood what he had,” I murmur, my hand stroking up her side. “You’re not someone who fits into a neat little box. You’re fire. You’re softness. You’re strength wrapped in the prettiest fucking package I’ve ever seen. And he couldn’t rise to meet that.”
“Then why does it hurt so much to hear it?”
I press my lips to the side of her neck. “Because you gave him the best of you and he didn’t know what to do with it.”
She shifts, just enough to face me. Her cheek rests against me, and her fingers skim along my ribs, as if memorizing the way I feel.
“I hate that he made you doubt yourself,” I say. “But that guy? He doesn’t get to define what love looks like for you.”
“Then who does?” she asks.
“You do, baby,” I say without hesitation.
Her fingers clutch my chest, securing herself to me like I’m the only steady thing in her world.
“Promise that we’ll always be friends?” she asks, the question barely audible.
I press a kiss to her damp hair. “I promise.”
Even though the word is too small for what I feel for her .
Even though friendship is the least of what I want. But she’s fragile right now, and I won’t risk breaking that trust. So, I hold the rest of it back. The weight of how long I’ve loved her.
The ache of not being able to say it yet.
The truth will come out when she’s ready.
And when it does, I’ll be right here, waiting to catch her.
We sit in the quiet as the water cools around us, our skin wet and our hearts beating in sync.
And I know, no matter how long it takes for her to believe it, no matter how many broken pieces we have to gather, I’ll be here through all of it.
Because she’s not just my lucky charm.
She’s my whole damn heart.
And I’ll never let her go.