Page 78 of The Last Call Home
Lilah: Maybe we will use the house.But can we hit pause on the innuendos and talk about Blythe for a second?
Mal: You’ve got a problem with my new sister-in-law?
Lilah: Not a problem.She’s lovely.Just ...she barely goes out.There’s something off.And don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.
Mal: If there were something strange going on, I probably would tell you.
Lilah: No, you wouldn’t.You’d bottle it up, convince yourself it’s not your business, and then watch it unravel from a distance.
Mal: I would if it felt urgent.
Cass: Look, there’s nothing to sound the alarms over.But fine—tomorrow, cabin, all three of us?
Lilah: Yeah, I’ll be there.
ChapterThirty-One
Mal: I won’t make it to the cabin today.
Cass: Why not?
Lilah: Seriously?We had a plan.
Mal: I’ve got to head out to Larkspur Knoll.It’s a ...something about sheriff duty and I tuned them out when they invited me there.
Cass: You want backup?We can ride shotgun, cause trouble, shake things up.
Mal: Appreciate your offer, but this one’s solo.You two go enjoy yourselves.
Cass: Define enjoy.
Lilah: I’m bringing my swimsuit.The rest?That’s all on you, Harlan.
Cass: Now that sounds like a dare—and I accept.Good luck with your assignment, Mal.Call if it turns into a hostage situation.
ChapterThirty-Two
Cassian
Things between Mal,Lilah, and me don’t move fast.Not because we’re unsure about us—fuck knows, I’ve never been more certain of anything—but because Birchwood Springs doesn’t make it easy.There are thousands of issues that arise every day, like fires or Atlas taking on a woman who is running away from her sociopathic husband.Have I mentioned she’s also pregnant?
And then there’s the real problem with this town: the people.There are too many ears, too many eyes and too many mouths just waiting to run wild.It feels like everyone’s waiting for someone to give them a show.
They can wait all they want.We’re not providing them with any more wood for their gossipy fire.
Our relationship is fragile—not in a weak, uncertain way, but in that rare, just-barely-beginning way.That delicate balance where one wrong move could make it all unravel, and yet, it’s already the only thing that feels remotely real.
It’s only been a couple of months, and already it feels like I’ve set the whole damn town on fire for just one night of peace with the two of them.One night without pretending I’m unaffected.One night where I don’t have to pretend, I don’t want them—desperately, stupidly, and so recklessly that it almost feels like punishment.
Every glance.Every accidental touch.Every heated look that lingers just a little too long.It builds.Simmering between us like we’re all walking around with lit matches and gasoline in our pockets.
We talk, of course we do.There’s texts and voice messages that sometimes feel like mini-podcasts.We have brief chats here and there when I visit Lilah at the coffee shop.Sometimes, she shows up at the bar, her eyes scanning until they find mine—and then we say nothing.Not really, because I’m too fucking busy.The restraint between us?It’s a miracle none of us have snapped yet.
She’s usually in bed before I’m even free to breathe.My nights end when hers begin.Knowing she’s across town—flushed from our last interaction while I’m stuck pouring drinks for strangers—feels like a special kind of punishment.
Since the tattoo parlor opened, the town’s changed.More visitors.More foot traffic.More people passing through, making me fidgety because one of these days, someone will come without me noticing and will fuck the town.Yet, somehow, even in the middle of all that noise, I feel more exposed than ever.
Because nothing hides when I see them.
