Page 30 of The Last Call Home
“You always wanted a big family,” she says sweetly.“Don’t deny it.You used to name imaginary babies when you were eight.”
“I also tried to marry a stuffed giraffe.That doesn’t mean I was serious.”
She’s already walking off.Muttering something about grandkids and retirement parties.
“I said I want to stay single,” I call after her, like shouting into the wind will make a difference.
“But you might reconsider parenting,” she says over her shoulder, casual as if we’re discussing grocery lists and not the collapse of my sanity.
I sneeze.
She gasps like it’s a death knell.“Let’s take you back inside.I’ll make you tea.Then we strategize.”
By the time I’m back at the bakery, I’m oscillating between frozen, overheated, and emotionally whiplashed.All I need is a psychic telling me my aura smells like foreplay.
“You should go home,” Mom says as I peel off my scarf.
“I—”
“We’re fully staffed.You’re going through something.Go home.Shower.Do whatever you need to do to calm down so tomorrow is a better day.”
Normally I’d protest, dig in, and fight for control.But I nod.
Because she’s right.
I need space.Not just from her meddling or the scent of fresh croissants—no, I need space from them—Cassian and Malerick.
The two men who’ve somehow taken up residence in my nervous system and are currently wreaking havoc on every fantasy I’ve ever had.
When I get home,I kick off my boots like they’ve betrayed me.My coat lands on the hook, barely.My fingers twitch with leftover adrenaline, my jaw aches from clenching, and my living room floor looks too empty to pace but I try anyway.Back and forth.Back and forth.
As if carving a path across these worn floorboards will help me make sense of anything.
Cassian said something without saying it.Malerick didn’t deny a damn thing.They both looked at me like I was the answer to a question they weren’t supposed to ask.And I just walked out.
Like a flustered idiot.
There’s still want pulsing through me.Too much want.Want that makes my hands itch and my throat dry.Want that makes me press my palm flat to my chest, like I can physically stop the way my heart is rioting against reason.
They touched me without really touching me.
Looked at me like I was a decision they couldn’t take back.
If they keep their mouths shut, there won’t be answers.
Or sex.
Or any kind of resolution.
And honestly?
I don’t know what would kill me faster—my curiosity or my libido.
Since I’m buzzing, I decide to talk to someone, anyone.Nysa might know about this guy, right?She has some kind of connection with these people, but when I ring her she texts me back that she’ll call when she’s available.I guess it’s just me and a new criminal board, and my targets are those two.It’s definitely not a fuck, marry, kill scenario.I just want to know what’s happening.
Is that too much to ask?
ChapterEleven
