Page 48 of The Last Call Home
That earns me a laugh.Choked.Dry.But it’s there.
“I want both of you,” I say, softer now.“Not because I’m selfish.Not because I need a fix.But because I think ...I think we could be something real if we weren’t so scared of it.”
Delilah doesn’t move.
Malerick doesn’t speak.
And I?
I don’t breathe.
Because this?
This is where the story turns.
ChapterSeventeen
Malerick
I don’t needthis bullshit right now.
Seriously, he can take his half-truths andI’m old enough to want to settle downand shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.Preferably sideways.With enthusiasm.
If he had stopped atI want both of you,I might’ve handled it.I would’ve smirked.Rolled my eyes.Thrown out a biting one-liner just to cut the tension before it swallowed us whole.
But no.That would’ve been too merciful.So not on brand for Cassian Harlan.
He kept going.Blew right past the line I’ve drawn in blood between then and now.Past every defense I’ve constructed, just to function in this town without falling apart at every corner.
“I want to stop pretending I never loved this man ...who never let me love him.”
There’s this second—maybe two—where the world flatlines.
The sounds fade, as if someone had vacuumed the air out of the room.There’s no clatter, no breath, just this awful absence where everything used to be.
I don’t look at him.
I don’t look at her.
Instead, I grip the edge of the kitchen counter like it’s the only thing tethering me to this moment.The wood creaks under my hand.My fingers burn.I don’t let go.
Delilah’s quiet—too quiet.
Cassian stands there like an idiot with a death wish, daring the storm to strike him first.
And me?
I’m breaking.Silently.Efficiently.
Just like always.
He used to tell me—back in the early days, when we were still partners, and he hadn’t seen me naked yet—that I handled emotions like a bomb technician.Steady hands.Controlled breath.One wrong move and the whole room goes up in flames.
He wasn’t wrong.
But what he didn’t understand—what no one ever fucking understood—is that the bomb already went off.I’ve been picking up the debris since I was a kid.Growing up in a house where rage was louder than love and silence meant danger taught me one thing: feel too much, and someone gets hurt.Usually you.
So, yeah, I can do touch.I can do sex.You’re mad, you throw a punch.You feel something deeper?You fuck.There’re probably more emotions, healthier ones, but I didn’t grow up with a guidebook.I got fire and bruises.And eventually, I got Cassian along with all the people we encountered who wanted to share our bed.
