Page 44 of Rising Heat
I smile despite myself. Bex has spent the better part of the past four weeks demanding updates on Tyler’s face, Tyler’s biceps, and the increasingly mythical older brother like she’s suddenly Magnum P.I.
Darcy
Tyler, unfortunately yes. Mack remains suspiciously fictional.
Bex
If I had two hot brothers living downstairs I’d already have a spreadsheet. And spread legs.
Darcy
This is why you’re not allowed near me unsupervised.
Bex
Wrong! This is why you need me there.
Liv glances over from behind the counter.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just being cyberbullied.”
She studies me for a second before deciding she doesn’t want details and goes back to wiping down the pastry case.
Bex
So, what’s the tea? What else is happening in Darcy’s 2.0 era?
I hesitate.
It’s not like there’s nothing to tell…there’s actually more than I’d like to admit.
Tyler has threaded himself into the edges of my routine so naturally it would be easy to miss if I wasn’t paying attention.
Which I absolutely am not.
A few weeks ago I mentioned in passing on the stairs that the breakfast nook got weirdly drafty in the afternoons. That night he showed up with a container of New England clam chowder from a place around the corner, a loaf of bread still warm through the paper bag, and weather stripping for the windows.
He had set the soup on my counter like he was dropping off federal secrets.
“Not as good as mine,” he’d proclaimed when I stood there in shock. “But good enough to keep you from freezing to death.”
He’d then spent the next forty minutes leaning half out my kitchen window in the dark, cursing at stubborn adhesive, while I held the flashlight and laughed so hard I nearly dropped it.
The part that blows my mind is that I can’t even point to the moment it happened.
One day Tyler was just the guy downstairs, and then he wasn’t.
The man is like sunshine in human form—and I know better than to stand too close if I want to avoid getting burned.
Still, I haven’t moved back.
Just call me Icarus…
Darcy
No developments. Just settling in.
