Page 53 of The Last Call Home
Cassian
She means it.
Not in the way people say things when they want to fill the silence—or call a bluff.Not like she’s the one bluffing just to maintain control of this situation.
Delilah fucking means it.
She wants this.
Me.Him.Us.
She’s looking at both of us like she’s not afraid of what this could become—only concerned about what might happen if we let it slip through our fingers.She’s offering us something we never had with Rachel: clarity.Intent.Boundaries.
And perhaps the scariest thing of all?
She’s asking to be seen.Not absorbed.Not tolerated.Not simply a beautiful addition to our former wreckage.
A part of it.An equal.
I swallow hard because this feels like one of those moments when you look back and realize it was the last time you had a choice before everything changed.
She wants to keep it private.
And I get that.Between the Syndicate, the secrets, and her mom’s matchmaking mafia, privacy may be the only luxury we can afford.
Still, I can’t stop staring at her.
Not just because she’s stunning—though, fuck, she truly is.
It’s because she’s doing something I never expected: she’s giving us a chance.She’s essentially choosing us before we’ve even proven we can be anything worth choosing.
I glance at Malerick.He’s stiff, arms crossed, lips pressed together like he’s barely holding it together.But I see it.The same thing I feel tearing me open from the inside.
Hope.
And, fuck, I want to reach for him.
I want to kiss her.
Kiss him.
I want to believe—for once—that we’re not going to ruin this before it starts.
I’m stuck in this goddamn moment, my heart racing as if I just sprinted through a minefield, wondering if I’ll survive what comes next.
Delilah leans back into the couch cushions, arms relaxed, but there’s nothing calm about her.Her pulse is fluttering just beneath her jaw, and I can see the way her fingers curl against her thigh like she’s grounding herself.
I can’t stop staring at her.It feels like if I blink, she’ll disappear, and I’ll wake up choking on regret again.
“Do we really want this?”she asks, her gaze shifting from Malerick to me.
And the way she says it—quiet, honest, with her eyes wide open like she’s not just asking a question but offering herself up for the answer—it slays me.
Because, yeah, I do.I’ve wanted many things in my life: closure, peace, a better freaking past.But this?Her voice in this room.His silence doesn’t feel like a wall for once.The possibility of something genuine?
I never let myself want this before.
I want it too much.
