Page 91 of Midnight Between Us
I lost track of Del while I was helping the paramedics, and when I looked for her, Mal said, “Cass took her home.”
Only now am I wondering whose home that was, or why the two men were so ...it wasn’t just concern, but they were behaving the same way the Timberbridge men do when their women are in danger.
By the time I park in front of Cassian’s place—above the bar, of all places—my questions have multiplied like rabbits on espresso.Why didn’t I realize Cass lived here?When did Del start crashing above the bar?More importantly—can we drink if it’s still closed?Because I could really useallthe alcohol stored in that building.
I step out of the car with the grace of a baby deer on a frozen pond—wobbly, uncertain, but fueled by sheer will and indignation.The sun’s out, annoyingly bright and unforgiving like it has no interest in giving me a dramatic atmosphere to match the unraveling inside my chest.
The bar’s closed, but the back door is propped open.Inside, it smells like old wood, lemons, and cleaning supplies.I never knew this side of the bar existed.Not that I’ve been here since ...well, I’ve never been inside, to be honest.
I climb the narrow flight of stairs like I’m heading toward a reckoning.By the time I reach the landing, my nerves are trying to convince me to turn around and pretend I missed the address.That I never got the text.That I had errands.A dentist appointment.An urgent need to rearrange my spice rack.
But I’m here.
And before I can knock, the door swings open, and Gale appears, shoving a glass of margarita into my hand.“You’re late,” she says, like it matters.
The Tajin on the rim touches my lips, and suddenly, I forget what I came here to do.
Cassian’s apartment smells like vanilla, rosemary, and something warm baking in the oven.I wouldn’t be surprised if Del has taken over and converted it into a bakery.Downstairs might no longer be a bar by the end of next week, but a coffee shop.
The windows are open, letting in a soft breeze.From the couch, Blythe hums quietly, her voice blending with the faint clinking in the kitchen.She’s curled up like a cat, Everly sleeping on her chest with a hand twisted into her shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her safe.
And there’s Nysa, chopping up a rainbow of fresh fruit like she’s filming a wholesome cooking reel.No one would be fooled seeing the blender, tequila and other ingredients next to it.She’s obviously preparing flavored margaritas.This is my kind of reunion.
Del’s already padding toward me, barefoot and all soft pink cardigan energy, her arms out like she’s going to wrap me in a hug.I stop her with a look.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” she says without skipping a beat, “It was clear when I visited you earlier, but after that call you took it was ...I curse Mal and your bodyguards for kicking me out of your house.”
I shrug because it took them awhile to realize I had a visitor.Not sure what’s going to happen now that one more person knows about Keir.He’s supposed to be MIA.One person finds out, and in this town, information spreads like wildfire.
“Well, it’s complicated.”
“Please, Keir, being at your house is not complicated,” Blythe mumbles.
I frown.“You knew?”
Nysa shrugs.“Of course, we knew.Our men don’t keep secrets from us.They were pretty concerned when their brother disappeared.They can’t pretend one day they’re worried sick and the next that everything is fine—even when their older brother is still missing.”
Del huffs but doesn’t say anything.It’s clear that she was left in the dark until today.And when she says, “I had no idea he was missing.”
“You’ve had other issues, Del.Why would we worry you about Keir too?”Nysa states.
Gale and Blythe nod in agreement.
I sink into the armchair in the corner.It’s too plush and swallows me whole, which feels metaphorically appropriate for today.
Nysa’s sitting on the floor beside Gale, her socked feet tucked beneath her, a bowl of something chocolate balanced on her lap, and a margarita in hand.
Gale is drinking tea, and she looks radiant.I want to ask how she’s feeling, but it’s best if I don’t bring up her pregnancy now, or I’ll end up heading to the clinic to make sure everything is fine with her.
“So, rough day?”Blythe asks softly, bouncing Everly a little as the baby starts to stir.
I don’t answer right away.Just nod.Once.
Del comes back with a tray of muffins.“Here, this goes great with margaritas.”
“You keep saying that all your pastries go great with anything, even water.”Gale rolls her eyes.“I already told you to come to my house to start baking, and sell online.”
