Page 51 of The Last Call Home
She blinks.
Doesn’t speak.Doesn’t flinch.
So I keep going—because stopping now would be worse.
“And I hated it.Not because I didn’t want it to collapse into one—the three of us, all in—but because I did.I fucking wanted it, and that scared the shit out of me.”
Cassian takes a slow step toward me.Measured.Careful.
Like he knows I’m the last thread in a room full of unraveling.
I shake my head once.Just once.
“No.Don’t.”
His boot scuffs the hardwood, and that tiny sound is louder than the thrum in my ears.
“Malerick—”
“I mean it.”My voice cracks like something breaking loose from the inside.“You got your confession.Let me have mine.But don’t fucking touch me unless you’re staying.”
Silence.
And then, gently—his hand brushes my arm.Just fingertips.Just a graze.
“I’m not leaving again.”
I want to believe him.
Fuck, I do.
But belief is luxury, and I’ve never been rich in anything but survival.
I hate that I’m breaking, and I hate that I’m being honest.I hate that I’m standing here asking for something without even saying the words out loud, because I never learned how.
Because they’re too much to complete, and I’ve never been enough to deserve anything more than to serve others.
That part of me—the one trained to expect love like it’s a bait-and-switch, always waiting for the other shoe to drop—starts spinning disaster scenarios like it’s prepping for war.
And Delilah is here witnessing my brokenness.Instead of running away, she asks, “So what happens now?”
The million-dollar question.The one that doesn’t come with a manual or a rulebook or even a fucking suggestion box.
“I don’t know,” I answer, and it’s the most honest thing I’ve said all night.
“I want both of you,” she says, her voice soft but unshakable.“But not as some extra in this”—she points between Cassian and me—“not as a guest in a relationship that already existed.I want a voice.I want to be important.I want to matter, not just orbit around what you two had.”
Cassian gawks like she just kicked him in the chest.“Why would you say that?”
“Because your relationship was fucked from the start.No communication.The moment someone—Rachel—asked for what she wanted, you both bolted.”
“We were three,” Cassian states, as if he can’t understand why she insists.
“She had no idea,” Delilah says calmly.“She thought it was casual.Until it wasn’t.Until she wanted more and didn’t know how to ask—because she didn’t know you two loved each other as much as you might’ve loved her.”
I rub the bridge of my nose.“So it was our fault?”
“Not necessarily,” she says.“But you get what you ask for.And if I’m part of this, I want a relationship with you.”She points at me.Then, at Cass.“And with you.But I also want a relationship that includes the three of us.I’m not here to be a plus-one to your unresolved history.”
