Page 195 of Rising Heat

My fingers are still tangled in his hair.

I smooth my thumb once along his temple.

Mack lets out a slow breath and shifts a fraction closer without opening his eyes.

That does absolutely nothing helpful for me spiritually.

“You awake?”

Tyler’s voice is rough with sleep, making me jump.

“Barely,” I whisper back.

His thumb drags lazily against my side. Sleep-soft Tyler is disarming in a completely different way than regular Tyler—less grinning, less momentum. Just holding onto me like letting go never occurred to him.

My hand slips from Mack’s hair to the back of his neck, my thumb tracing one slow pass beneath his ear.

“Does it always stay with you?” I whisper.

Tyler’s thumb stills.

“The calls?”

I nod against his chest.

“Some of them.”

His thumb resumes its slow path along my side.

I think about the way they looked when I walked in earlier. The exhaustion underneath everything. Mack standing in the kitchen staring into the fridge like he forgot why he opened it. Tyler opening the door already looking relieved to see me before I’d even said anything.

“Yesterday felt like one that does?” I ask gently.

“Yeah.” His mouth brushes my hair. “That one stuck.”

I let my hand rest against Mack’s neck for a second, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath my palm.

“Is that why you guys usually⁠—”

I gesture vaguely between the three of us.

Tyler doesn’t make me finish.

“Blow it off? Usually.”

His hand slides a little lower against my waist.

“Easier to outrun it for a few hours than sit there replaying everything.”

“And tonight?”

I lift my head enough to look at him and catch him glancing down toward Mack before he looks back at me. Mack hasn’t moved, but I can feel him listening now, too.

“Tonight,” Tyler says finally, “I wanted this more.”

The words nearly knock the wind from me.

His hand finds my side again, moving slowly, like he’s reassuring himself as much as me.