Page 19 of Doctor Hot Mess

“Make yourself at home. I’ll grab us something to eat.”

I drop her bag near the couch, but she doesn’t sit. She paces a small circle instead, obviously harnessing some nervous energy. I head into the kitchen and pull two frozen chicken cordon bleu sandwiches out of the freezer. I throw them in the microwave, grab a bottle of water, and set it on the coffee table in front of her.

"Chicken work for you?" I ask even though it is already heating up. Beggars can't be choosers.

"You don't have to feed me, you know," she says rigidly. She is still pacing.

"I know I don't. But I have to eat and you know I hate eating alone. Do you want a beer, too?"

"No, I'm still sober. Water is great, thanks."

She's stopped drinking so many times in her short life that I never know if she's drinking or not. By the looks of her, it's a good thing she's not.

Once the microwave stops, I retrieve the sandwiches, bring them to the living room, and put the plate by her untouched water. "Sit down. You're making me nervous. You need to eat. So do I. Long day, so let's unwind together, huh?"

Lila finally drops onto the couch, curling her legs up and tucking them under her. She looks at the sandwich like it’s the first real meal she’s seen in days, but her hand hovers for a second before she picks it up.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, taking a bite. "Not a bad bachelor dinner on the fly."

"I try," I smile as I take a sip of my beer.

I sink into the chair across from her, watching as she chews. She’s deliberately slow, like she’s buying time. I let her finish the first bite before I speak.

“So,” I say, keeping my tone as casual as possible. “What brings you to Birmingham? Because I’m guessing this isn’t just a social visit.”

Her eyes flick up to mine, and for a second, something vulnerable flashes there. Then it’s gone, replaced with the same breezy mask she always wears when she’s cornered.

“It’s...complicated,” she says, reaching for the water. Her fingers tremble slightly as she twists the cap off.

“How long have you been here?”

“Just a few days,” she says quickly, but something in her tone makes me pause. That answer was too quick, too rehearsed.

Lila and I are enough alike that I know she would rather not talk about anything that goes too deep. But since she's here, I'm thinking this is her attempt to ask for help. As much as it pains me to go beyond the surface, I know I need to.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Lila, come on. Talk to me. You show up out of nowhere, looking like you’ve had a run-in with a truck, and you’re saying it’s ‘complicated’? Try me. I do complicated all day, every day, at work.”

She takes another sip, buying herself a moment. “It’s just a little trouble, okay? Nothing major. I've got it under control.”

“A little trouble doesn’t usually involve bruises,” I counter, keeping my voice calm but firm. “Did someone hurt you?”

Her grip tightens on the bottle, and she looks away. “Not exactly. It’s more like...someone wanted to send a message.”

A knot tightens in my stomach. “A message about what?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to drag you into this, Jonah.”

“Lila.” My voice drops, and she finally looks at me again. “You showed up at my door. You’re already dragging me into it. So, let me help you.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, I think she’s going to open up. But then she shrugs, leaning back into the couch. “I just need a place to crash for a while. I’ll figure the rest out.”

I exhale slowly, studying her. She’s always been good at skirting the truth, but this feels different. There’s a weight in her words she’s trying hard to mask, but I can read it like a billboard. She's in trouble.

I know there’s more to this than she’s letting on. “You can stay here tonight. But tomorrow, we’re talking about this. All of it.”

Her shoulders relax slightly, and she nods. “Thanks, Jonah.”

We finish our sandwiches, and the conversation drifts to safer topics—family updates, random stories from her latest adventures, and the kind of drama only our relatives can conjure. For a little while, it feels almost normal, like she’s just my kid sister crashing with me for fun, not because of some lurking danger.

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