Page 36 of The Last Call Home
“I believe in consequences.”
There’s a beat of silence.Then I almost laugh.Almost, but I don’t because this woman can be a little terrifying—more like a lot.
Rosalinda narrows her eyes, voice dropping low with eerie calm.“You love her.”
It’s not a question.
I look down at the empanadas like they’ll tell me what the hell I’m supposed to say.“I don’t know what I feel.”
“Bullshit.”
My mouth opens.Nothing comes out.
“It’s not that simple,” I manage eventually.
“It is,” she says, folding her hands in her lap like she’s about to lead prayer.“You either show up or you don’t.That’s the difference between men who stay and men who run.”
My jaw tightens.I close my eyes, just for a second.“You don’t know everything.”
She snorts, unimpressed.“Hombres.Son más necios que un burro.”A sigh escapes her like she’s been carrying my secrets for too long.“You walk around like you’re not allowed to want anything.Like wanting is a weakness.Like love’s a thing you admire from the window but never dare touch.”
Her words land like a punch wrapped in velvet.
“And I know my daughter,” she continues.“She doesn’t give her heart easily.But if she ever does?If you’re the idiot lucky enough to be holding it—” her gaze slices through me, calm and brutal “—then you better not drop it because you’re too scared of what you want.”
I could say maybe she’d be better with Cassian, but that would be a lie.I fucking know it, he fucking broke my heart,or at least that’s how it felt.After our brief conversation last week, I’m not sure how things ended.Not that I know exactly how they began.It just happened and suddenly it was over.
But I don’t have many guarantees that he’ll stay.What if he leaves things wrecked and ruined and hollowed out?
Why the fuck am I letting him stay?He should be evicted out of this town.No second chances, not even if he’s the man who’s supposed to help me with the Syndicate.
Rosalinda stands and pats my shoulder like she’s bestowing a blessing—or a final warning.“Eat the empanadas.There’s more food in the bag.And fix whatever the hell is going on.Before I do it for you.”
Then she leaves.
Just like that.
No dramatic monologue.No exit music.Just a woman on a mission, walking out of my office like she didn’t just strip me down to the bone and shame in under five minutes.
I stare at the container in my hands.
Empanadas.
Then, glance back to the empty space.Well, at least now I know where Delilah learned to walk away like that.
Like she’s already won.If only I knew what the fuck I just lost.
ChapterThirteen
Delilah
“Your mom stopped by,”Malerick says instead of placing an order—or even offering a hello.
Without replying, I move behind the counter and start prepping his usual: frothy milk, two pumps of mocha, exactly like he likes it.This isn’t a latte, because according to Mal, lattes are for bougie people.He loves this one and as long as we don’t call it by it’s name.
I toss him a look over my shoulder.“Mom never leaves the house before nine in the morning.What are you talking about?”
“I meant yesterday,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck as if the admission costs him.“She showed up at the station and threatened to hex my plumbing if I ever break your heart.”
