Page 101 of The Last Call Home
ChapterForty-Three
Delilah
I didn’t thinkI’d ever sleep again.Not after everything that happened yesterday.Not after the explosion, the fire, and the taste of smoke lingering in the back of my throat.
Yet here I am.Waking up from what might’ve been the first peaceful dream I’ve had in months.
Anyone else in my shoes would probably be freaking the fuck out.I mean, maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet—that I lost my livelihood.That I nearly died.It hadn’t been more than ten fucking minutes since I stepped out of that place.
When will it hit?
My bakery.My future—the routine.The rhythm that kept my life sane.All of it incinerated.The heartbeat of my every day, gone in a plume of black smoke.And somehow, I still managed to fall asleep as none of it had carved through me.
Maybe it’s adrenaline.Maybe denial.Or perhaps it was the warmth between two men who feel more like home than any place ever has.
Sleeping between Mal and Cass was different.Different in the way silk feels on bare skin after years of coarse linens—and we weren’t even naked.My body didn’t just rest—it gave in.Melted.Breathed.
I stir, slow and reluctant.A sigh slips past my lips as the morning light pushes through the crack in the curtain.The room smells like cedar and faint smoke, underscored with clean cotton ...and the deep, addictive scent of them.
Only one of them is still in bed.
Malerick.
His arm is slung around my waist, possessive even in sleep.His palm is splayed across my stomach like he’s staking his claim, his chest snug against my back.Every inhale brushes against my spine, a subtle rhythm that threads through my bones and tells me I’m not alone.His body is firm and solid behind me, grounding.His skin is warm, his scent—musk and sweat and something that makes me want to crawl deeper into him.
Cass must’ve left early.He’s always moving.I bet he kissed my shoulder before he left, probably whispered something rough and soft at the same time.And I slept right through all of it as if it were normal.
But Mal’s still here.
I shift just a little—not to pull away, but to sink closer, to feel more.His body answers mine instinctively.A soft pull, a subtle curve of muscle that draws me tighter against him.His nose grazes the back of my neck, and his lips move—murmuring something into my skin I can’t quite catch.
My breath hitches.
I shouldn’t love this.Shouldn’t let it wrap around my ribs like a drug.I should be getting up.I should be checking on Mom.Cass said he talked to her—told her I was safe, that they needed to keep me overnight.He never said where.For all she knows, I’m at the hospital ...or somewhere worse.Did she ask questions?Did she panic?
A hand smooths over my stomach, slow and warm.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Mal murmurs, voice thick with sleep.His lips graze the curve of my neck, his breath sending a shiver down my spine.
“I lost everything,” I whisper.“My bakery ...my life.”
“I know.”His voice is rougher now.Awake.A little pained.“I should’ve been there.”
“No,” I turn slightly, catching his eyes.“You showing up afterward?That saved me.Cass was there.”
“I’m glad he was with you.”He cups my jaw, thumb brushing beneath my cheekbone.“You didn’t deserve that.You didn’t deserve any of this.”
Neither of us speaks for a beat.
The silence stretches, thick with everything we’re both too raw to say.
Then Malerick leans in and kisses me—slow but not soft.There’s possession in the way his mouth finds mine, his lips pressing with the kind of hunger that doesn’t just ask—it takes.The kind that lingers and bruises.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth like he needs to memorize me from the inside out.As if he’s apologizing with every breath for every second, he wasn’t here to stop the fire, to hold me through it.
When he pulls back, just enough to whisper against my lips, his voice is low and frayed at the edges.
“I want you,” he murmurs.“I want to be inside you.I want to fuck you so good you forget everything but my name.”
