Page 12 of Make Me Yours

Relief flashes across his face before he’s moving, cutting a direct path through the crowd. By the time I manage another shuddering breath, he’s standing in front of me.

The jumble in my brain melts away as I stare up at him, my heart hammering against my ribs, my throat tight with pent-up emotion.

In silence, Steele scans my face. I can only imagine what a mess I am after crying for hours. There is so much tension in my shoulders that the weight of it presses down on me. It’s a wonder I don’t buckle under the intense pressure.

Even though a muscle in his jaw twitches, he doesn’t ask any questions or push for answers. Instead, he reaches out, his hands landing gently but firmly on my arms. That’s all it takes to ground me in the here and now. His warmth seeps through my jacket and into my skin. It’s both solid and steady, like an anchor that keeps me from drifting away.

“Lilah.”

The sound of my name sliding from his lips is enough to snap the last thread of composure I’ve been clinging to. My eyes burn and my body quakes, the emotion crashing through me as I press my face into the quiet strength of his chest.

He catches me immediately. One arm bands around my back before tugging me closer as the other slides up to cradle my head like I’m a small child. His body is warm, strong, and steady.

I didn’t realize just how much I needed his strength until this moment.

My fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt as my shoulders shake.

Even now, he doesn’t pelt me with questions.

His grip tightens, holding me close.

For the first time since walking in on Devon and Marissa, the storm inside me settles.

I have no idea how long we stand here wrapped up in each other’s arms.

When I’m finally able to find my voice, it’s scraped raw. “I’m so sorry aboutmissing your game.”

“What happened? I couldn’t focus without you there. I was worried.”

I groan, hating that my drama has affected him. Hockey has always been Steele’s number one priority. The last thing I want to do is interfere with his game.

When I fail to respond, he pulls away just enough to search my eyes with narrowed ones. “Are you going to tell me what happened? Or do I have to drag it out of you? Because we both know I will.”

Honestly, I’d rather not tell Steele what occurred. I can already predict how he’s going to react. He never liked Devon.

Oh, Steele has always been polite, but after all these years, I know him well enough to realize when he’s faking it. Not that I ever mentioned it, but Devon constantly complained Steele and I spent too much time together. He’d tell me that men and women could never be just friends. I always disagreed, insisting that Steele was more like a brother than anything else, even though I knew deep down it was a lie.

In all the years I’ve known Steele, I have never once thought of him as a sibling.

His fingers slip beneath my chin, drawing me back to the present. “Tell me what happened.”

His voice dips as a hard edge fills it. The deep baritone is enough to send a shiver racing down my spine before settling in my core. I quickly stomp it out.

As tempting as it is to underplay the situation, the last thing I’m going to do is cover for that cheating sack of shit.

“I walked in on Devon screwing Marissa in his office.” A slight tremor runs through me as I add, “On his desk, if you want to get specific.”

I still can’t believe how he’d been fucking her. The image is burned into my mind, and I can’t stop replaying it, no matter how hard I try.

The total abandonment on his face.

Steele stiffens. His grip tightens, and his jaw locks for a beat before he exhales sharply through his nose. “Are you serious?”

“And that’s not even the most brutal part,” I whisper, desperate to get it all out.

“What could possibly make it worse?”

“She’s pregnant.”