Page 98 of The Last Call Home
Delilah snorts.“It’s not fear.It’s knowing what she’s capable of.But maybe I should tell her.Especially if I’m not going back home.”
That hits me in the chest in a way I don’t expect.“How so?”I ask, voice lower now.
I shift closer to the bed, resting my hand lightly against the edge of the mattress, just near her knee.She turns her head toward me, her cheek still pressed against Cassian’s chest, her eyes searching mine as if she’s waiting for the one reason not to run.
“You don’t want me here?”she asks, voice barely above a whisper.
I exhale, every muscle in my chest pulled tight.“Oh, baby,” I murmur, my fingers brushing against hers where they rest near the blanket.“I don’t just want you.I need you in this bed.In this room.In this goddamn life.You moving in today would make me the happiest bastard in Birchwood Springs.”I glance over her head at Cassian.He meets my eyes, and for one breathless second, we both know it.We’re in this together now—even if we still haven’t figured out what that means.
Even if the last time we loved someone, it blew us apart.
“But I also need to know this is what you want.That you’ve thought it through.”
She nods without hesitation.“Yeah.I don’t want to be close to Mom.What if they do something to her?”
“We wouldn’t let that happen,” Cassian says firmly, the edge in his voice slicing sharply through the air.
Delilah sighs, but there’s a humorless smile on her lips.“It’s not just that.I don’t want to deal with her freaking out.She’s going to be relentless.Morning to night.Passive-aggressive comments, prayer candles, matchmaking schemes.I’ll lose my damn mind handling that twenty-four-seven.”
“That’s fair,” I admit, lips twitching.
“So today is moving day,” Cassian declares.“I’m good with that.”He presses a kiss to the side of her head before nudging her playfully.“Go shower so we can actually get some sleep.”
She huffs out a soft laugh but doesn’t move from the bed—just sinks deeper into Cassian’s arms, her body relaxed for the first time all night.My shirt hangs on her like it was made for her, sleeves swallowed past her hands, bare legs tangled in the comforter.And fuck if that doesn’t make it impossible to look away.
I rub a hand over my jaw, the burn of everything still clinging to my skin—smoke, sweat, blood.It’s all soaked into me like I’ve carried the day home in my pores.
“I’m gonna grab a shower,” I say, my voice low, rough with everything I haven’t said.
Delilah lifts her gaze to mine, and for a split second, the storm in my chest settles.Just enough to breathe.
“Don’t take too long,” she murmurs.
It shouldn’t sound like an invitation.
But it fucking does.
They’re both here.In my space.My bed.This wasn’t planned.None of it feels earned or safe.We haven’t even figured out what we are.But tonight, we’re under the same roof.Choosing this.Choosing us, even if we don’t have a name for it yet.
Maybe it’s adrenaline.Maybe it’s trauma.Maybe it’s desperation.
But maybe it’s also something real.
Something that feels a hell of a lot like home.
And for now ...that’s enough.
ChapterForty-Two
Cassian
Delilah’sstill asleep curled next to me like her body finally gave up the fight.
I haven’t moved since she passed out while Malerick was still in the shower.We barely said good night—just a kiss that lingered longer than it should’ve, his lips grazing mine like he was trying to memorize the taste of surrender.Then he slid into bed behind her, wrapping himself around her like it was second nature.Like his body didn’t need permission to claim her.To claim us.
He fell asleep almost as fast as she did.
Now we’re here, the three of us, tangled and warm beneath the sheets.Finally, together.I should be thrilled.Over the moon.But honestly?This fucking sucks in ways I can’t even begin to explain even to myself.They burned her bakery to the ground.Her family legacy—her dream.
