Page 84 of Rising Heat

“Without me.”

He crosses his arms and smiles slyly.

“I thought this was about logistics.”

“It is.”

“Didn’t sound like logistics.”

I look back toward the window.

“That’s because you’re listening to the wrong part.”

He waits.

“She deserves better than us making a mess of all of our lives because neither of us could keep it in our pants.”

Tyler doesn’t answer this time. He doesn’t have to, because we both know that’s only part of the truth.

No argument or plan. Just the uncomfortable realization that somewhere between breakfast and bourbon we’d stopped talking about a girl we wanted to bang…

…and started talking about someone who could change everything if we got this wrong.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

darcy

I wake up in a room that isn’t mine and spend the next few seconds trying to figure out why that doesn’t bother me.

Dark walls and charcoal bedding and morning light coming in around the edges of the curtains. The pillow smells like something faintly smoky and rich that I’m choosing not to think about too much because once I do I’ll have to admit whose bed I’m in.

There’s a note on the pillow beside me.

Stay put. Storm’s worse. Tea when you wake up.

—M

Mack’s room.

Mack’s bed.

Mack, who is noticeably not here.

At some point during the night he must have carried me up here and quietly removed himself from the equation, leaving a handwritten note where he could’ve made things awkward instead.

I lie there a second longer than I need to, staring at the ceiling.

Did he think about staying?

The thought arrives completely uninvited. I shove it back out just as quickly.

When I finally swing my feet over the edge of the bed, I take a second to just look at the room.

The room isn’t sparse the way some men’s spaces are when they’re trying to convince you they don’t own anything. It’s just…ordered. A stack of books on the nightstand beside a watch and a charger. Gym shoes lined up next to work boots by the closet like somebody decided years ago that everything should have a place and never questioned it again.

Nothing staged, nothing accidental. It’s oddly comforting.

Which is a completely unnecessary opinion for me to have about my landlord’s bedroom.