Le's Soldier

Part 34

Tommy's pov:

I've known Lilly long enough to know when she's lying.

She doesn't do it loudly. Doesn't overexplain. Doesn't get defensive unless she's cornered. Her lies are quiet ones—short answers, a half-smile, a shrug like it's nothing worth digging into.

So when she started saying she was "good" again, I didn't buy it.

But I also didn't call her on it.

Because this time, something was different.

The Signs

It wasn't the obvious stuff. Not the nightmares, not the panic, not the way she used to go rigid when someone raised their voice. Those had eased. Softened.

It was the little things.

She cooked again.

Properly cooked.

Not survival meals or rushed food eaten standing up—actual meals. The kind where she grounded herself in the process. Chopping slow and precise. Shoulders relaxed. Music low in the background. Sleeves rolled up, scars on display like she'd stopped caring who saw them.

She never let anyone help.

Leah tried once. Ended up banished to the couch with a beer and a kiss to the forehead.

"Go sit down," Lilly had said, mock-stern. "You'll ruin it."

Leah laughed, hands up. "I burn pasta, babe. I know my place."

That was another thing.

Lilly didn't flinch at the affection anymore.

Still masculine. Still guarded. Still hated being coddled. But when Leah touched her—hand on the back of her neck, fingers hooked casually into her belt loop—it didn't make her stiffen or pull away.

She let herself be loved.

And she still hated anyone noticing.

If Katie commented, Lilly deflected.
If I said something, she grunted and changed the subject.

But I saw it.

The steadiness.
The way she listened instead of scanning exits.
The way her laugh came easier.

And the headaches?

Gone.

I asked once. Casually.

"Your head still giving you shit?"

She paused. Then shook her head. "Nah. Been good for a while."

I watched her carefully. No tell. No hesitation.

For the first time in months, I believed her.

Three Months Later

Medical clearance came through quietly.

Full duty.

Lilly didn't celebrate. Didn't announce it. Just folded the paperwork and slid it into her jacket like it was any other day.

The captain clapped her on the shoulder later. Pride there. Relief too.

"You earned this," he said.

She nodded. "I know."

That night, she told Leah over dinner.

Leah froze halfway through a bite.

"You're cleared?" she asked.

"Yeah."

Leah studied her face, searching for cracks. "And your head?"

"Clear," Lilly said. "Promise."

A long pause.

Then Leah smiled. Real this time. "Okay. Then... we're going out."

Lilly blinked. "Out?"

"A date," Leah said firmly. "An actual one. No interruptions. No uniforms. No trauma processing. Just us."

Lilly huffed. "You're bossy."

"And you love it."

"...Yeah," Lilly admitted. "I do."

The Date

They didn't tell anyone where they were going.

Some little place—not flashy. Warm lights. Close tables. The kind of place where people mind their business.

Lilly wore black. Of course she did. Button-up, sleeves rolled, chain at her throat. Leah wore something soft and green that made her look less like a world-class athlete and more like someone who belonged exactly where she was.

They talked about stupid things.

Movies. Food. A dog Leah wanted but absolutely did not have time for. Lilly teased her mercilessly.

It was normal.

That's what made it dangerous.

Tommy's Rule Number One: nothing bad happens when you're already braced for it.

It happens when you're finally relaxed.

The Sound

Lilly heard it first.

Not because she was on edge—but because some instincts don't die. They just sleep.

The crack of gunfire cut through the street outside.

People screamed.

Chaos erupted instantly.

Lilly was already moving.

"Leah—down."

Leah barely had time to turn before Lilly shoved her hard, body twisting, hand gripping Leah's jacket and throwing her behind a concrete planter.

The second shot hit Lilly square in the chest.

The third tore into her abdomen.

The fourth shattered into her knee.

She went down hard.

Leah screamed her name.

"LILLY—"

"I'm okay," Lilly gasped automatically, even as blood soaked through her shirt. "Stay down."

The shooter ran. Sirens wailed somewhere distant.

Leah crawled to her, hands shaking, pressing down on wounds she didn't know how to fix.

"Stay with me," Leah sobbed. "Please—please—"

Lilly's vision blurred. Pain came in waves—white-hot, overwhelming—but her focus stayed on Leah's face.

"You're safe," Lilly rasped. "That's all that matters."

"Don't you dare," Leah cried. "Don't you fucking dare leave me."

Lilly tried to smile.

"I'm not," she said. "I promised."

And then the world narrowed to sirens, hands, voices shouting her name—

And darkness.