Page 26 of Rising Heat

Tyler rolls the bottle slowly between his palms.

“Boston’s not bad for disappearing into.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“No.”

The answer comes easily enough that I look at him. His gaze flicks briefly toward the stacks of boxes crowding the apartment before finding me again.

“You strike me as someone starting over.”

For a second, my chest tightens and I forget about the beer in my hand. The apartment is full of evidence. Boxes. New keys. A city I picked because it was far enough away to feel different. And he just looks at the wreckage and somehow sees the part that’s still standing.

I look away first.

“That’s a confident assessment for someone who’s known me less than a week.”

“I’m a fast learner.”

I shake my head, but I can feel myself smiling. The annoying part is that he might actually be.

Three years with Brett and half our conversations felt like I was translating myself into a language he never understood. Tyler’s known me for four days and somehow landed closer to the truth than people who’d had years.

I decide not to unpack that. Mostly because I’m standing in a room already full of boxes.

Tyler drains the last of his beer and pushes off the counter.

“I should leave you to it.”

I nod because I should want space. Instead, something that feels vaguely like disappointment sinks a little. I think he catches it because a slow smirk curves on his mouth.

“Rain check on another beer when you’ve got fewer boxes judging you?”

I glance at the mountain of cardboard.

“I’d hate to disappoint the boxes. They’ve been through a lot.”

His laugh is warm and unfiltered.

He starts toward the door, then pauses.

“Darcy.”

“Yeah?”

His eyes move over the apartment once, then settle on me.

“This place is gonna suit you.”

Before I can figure out what to do with that, he’s gone. I stand in the middle of my apartment, beer bottle still in hand, listening to his footsteps disappear down the stairs.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

Mom

Settled?

Dad