Page 44 of The Last Call Home
“But you do realize something’s going to happen, right?”Cassian gives me a look.
It’s not just any look though.This one coils heat low in my stomach and makes my thighs press together as they’ve suddenly forgotten how to behave.It’s all jaw and eyes and sin held together by self-control that feels like it’s seconds from snapping.
It’s a look that dares me to kneel.
Or ask if I can ride him until neither of us remembers why we ever tried to pretend this wasn’t inevitable.
I take another sip, pretending the alcohol is what’s burning me from the inside out.It’s not.It’s him.Cassian fucking Harlan, with his battlefield eyes, grumbly voice, and a mouth that promises too much.
“You’ve already written the ending,” I say, eyes dragging from one to the other, “and now you’re trying to rewrite the plot halfway through.That’s not how stories work.”
Neither of them flinches.Not even a blink.
“First of all,” I continue, setting the glass down because my hands are too warm now, “I need details.Not the clean version where you hide the good and the nasty parts.Not just the ‘we worked together, surprise’ line you two threw at me like it explains everything.There’s more.A lot more.And I want all of it—now.”
Malerick shifts, just barely, but it’s enough.The pan on the stove hisses, as if it’s reminding him that everything can burn if he’s not careful.Cassian doesn’t move at all, but his silence is thunderous.
They look at each other.
And that silence?
It crackles.
There’s something buried there—years, maybe.Regret.Want.History carved deep and unfinished.
I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms because I need a barrier between me and whatever the hell this is.“You brought me here for a reason.We all want the same thing, so let’s not pretend you don’t.So talk.”
ChapterSixteen
Cassian
If I were smarter,I would’ve walked away the moment she asked for the truth.Fuck, I should’ve walked the second I learned the Syndicate might want the Timberbridges’ heads on spikes.
I don’t want to put her in danger—and I have to protect him and his family.
Can I do both?Certainly, but everything is ten times more complicated.
Logic says I should push her away.Actually, I should ask her to leave the country.Hell, relocate to some off-the-grid village with no cell service and goats for neighbors.Anything to keep her out of this.
And yet ...here I am.Rooted to the spot like some idiot statue while the drink in my hand sweats through the glass.Every nerve tuned to the sound of her voice, the beat of her breath, the click of her shoes across the cabin floor.She’s not even touching me, and my entire body is strung tight, waiting for her next move.
Malerick won’t talk.I know him.I know that silence too well—it’s built into the structure of who he is.So, yeah.
It’s me.
It’s always fucking me.
I set my glass down with a quiet thud that still manages to sound like a gunshot in this tense silence.
“You want the truth?”My voice drops an octave, smoke, and gravel.“Fine.Here it is.”
Delilah doesn’t move.Doesn’t blink.But she does finally sit, the drink I poured her cradled in both hands like she needs something to hold or she might combust.She doesn’t sip.Just watches me, her stare all heat and knives.
I start at the beginning.Because anything else would be cowardice.
“We met in the bureau.Partners.I didn’t think it was a good idea.I mean ...”I laugh, dry and low.“Have you seen him?He’s fucking hot.”
“So you already knew you’d end up fucking him?”She fires back, there’s no preamble.No hesitation.
