Summer Heat: A Steamy Romance Boxed Set

by Carly Phillips

  Before I can take a step toward the kitchen to toss the tissue, a message from Daniel comes in. I promise I will make it up to you.

  I don’t know what to write back. There’s no way to make this right.

  So instead I focus on the work that’s waiting for me and choose not to respond.

  I’ve barely been active online for a week now. Instead I’ve been taking pictures. Lots of them. Some of Daniel in abstract ways. Others of little things that remind me of him from when we were younger. I haven’t posted those yet though. I’m not sure I will either. No matter how beautiful I think they are.

  I haven’t answered messages or sent out any packages. I don’t even know how my sales are going. When you run a business all by yourself, you can’t afford to take time off. For years I’ve buried myself in my passion and work, although really I’d just been running from reality. From my past.

  Staring at the message from Daniel, the black and white text that’s so easy to read, I can’t answer the one question that matters.

  What am I doing?

  ***

  Six years ago

  “Hey … hey …”

  I hear a persistent voice but I ignore it. No one in this school has said a word to me. At least not to my face.

  With a tug on my shirt, I’m forced to turn around and face a boy. A boy who’s nearly a man. He doesn’t have a baby face, and I can tell he shaves, but there’s a kindness about him that makes him appear young. And likable. Which is something I haven’t felt in the last two years.

  “What are you doing?” he asks me and my forehead pinches.

  I lift the pencil in the air and point to the chalkboard in science class as I say, “It’s called taking notes.”

  The handsome guy laughs, a rough chuckle that forces me to smile. Some people’s happiness is simply contagious.

  “No, I mean tonight.”

  I don’t bother to respond other than to shrug. I do the same thing every night. Nothing. My life is nothing.

  “My brothers and I are having a little party.”

  “I don’t really do parties,” I answer him and nearly turn back around in my seat, but his smile doesn’t falter and that in itself keeps my attention.

  Shrugging, he says, “We can do something else.”

  “I don’t really do much,” I tell him honestly. I don’t really feel like doing anything. Each day is only a date on a calendar. That’s all they’ve been for a long time now.

  “What about the assignment for art class? We could take some pictures for the photography project?” It takes me a moment to place him, but now that he’s mentioned it, I think I did see him in the back row yesterday in art class.

  “It’s not my day for the camera.” The budget for the art department is small, so we have to take turns checking out the equipment.

  “I’ve got one we can use—well, it’s my brother’s.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Yeah, his name’s Daniel.” It all clicks when he says his brother’s name. I’ve seen him. It must be him. I’ve watched as this boy I’m talking to waits outside at the entrance to the school and another boy picks him up. Except he’s not a boy. There’s no question about that. Daniel is a man and it only took one glimpse of him to cause me to search him out each and every time the bell rings and I’m waiting in line for the bus.

  “Now I know your brother’s name, but I don’t know yours.”

  “It’s Tyler.” I repeat his name softly and when I look at him, I see traces of his older brother. But where Daniel has an edge to him, Tyler is warm and inviting.

  “I’m Addison.”

  “So what do you think, Addison?”

  “I think that sounds like fun. I wasn’t doing anything anyway.”

  Maybe fate knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep Tyler. It was going to take him from me. So it gave me Daniel to keep me from loving Tyler too much.

  I don’t know for sure and there’s no point in speculating.

  All I know for certain is that Daniel will consume me, chew me up and spit me back out.

  I need to end this before I get hurt … well, before it gets worse than it already is.

  Chapter 16

  Daniel

  I’m losing it.

  I can feel myself slipping backward into a dark abyss.

  Addison and I are alike in more ways than she knows. In ways I’d never dare to whisper out loud. She’s lying to herself when she says she needs space.

  She doesn’t.

  She needs me, just like I need her. She’s the only thing that takes the pain away and I do that for her too. I know I do. I can feel it. I can see it in her.

  The light from the computer screen is the only thing that saves the living room from being in complete darkness. I’ve been staring at it, waiting for him to see I’ve been logged in for hours.

  I’m trying to stay away from Addison. I’m trying to do what’s best.

  It’s been a long time, Marcus finally responds. It’s not his name or his alias in this chat. But I know it’s him.

  Three years now, I answer, leaning back into my seat with my laptop on my thighs and trying to ignore the shame that rings in my blood. It’s been three years since I’ve logged into this black market chat and sought him out. Three years since I’ve felt the urge to watch over Addison every second of every day. Three years since I’ve had a hit of my sweet addiction.

  What brings you back? he asks me and I swallow thickly.

  She came back into my life. But you already know that.

  She, as in Addison? he asks me to keep up this charade.

  The keys beneath my fingertips click faintly as I type. It’s odd how I find it comforting, the soft sounds tempting me to confess my sins.

  I wasn’t stalking her or trying to find her. The first time was a coincidence.

  How many times have there been? he asks me.

  A lot, I admit but then add, but she’s been with me this time. It’s not me hiding in the shadows. She sought me out.

  Do you think that makes it healthier? The text stares back at me on the brightly lit screen and I want to answer yes. Of course it is. This time isn’t anything like what happened years ago. He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he poses another question.

  If she knows, does that make it okay to allow your interest to grow to obsession?

  Obsession may be the wrong word. I think possessive is better. She’s mine. My reason to move on from what happened before. My desire for more. My only way to cope.

  It’s different this time. This time she wanted me there.

  Wanted? he presses, and the shame of why I’m even here in this anonymous chat makes my chest feel tight. As in past tense?

  She asked me for time apart and I’m having difficulties. I’m slipping back into old habits.

  It’s called stalking, Daniel.

  I’m aware of that, Marcus.

  I use his name, just like he uses mine. No one else knows it’s him, but I do. Because years ago, when I watched Addison finally sleep without crying, when she could say Tyler’s name with a sad smile instead of barely restrained agony, he was there for me. All those years ago when she moved on and I was still struggling to cope with the guilt of Tyler’s death, Marcus is the one who stopped me from pulling the trigger with a gun pressed to my head.

  It took nearly two years before it came to that point. A year and a half of following her, of watching her and living out my pain vicariously through hers. And months of slowly losing myself and any reason not to end it.

  She kept me sane in a way she’ll never know as I watched her grieve with the same pain I had.

  But as the months went by, she started to smile again.

  It made me feel worse than the day Tyler took his last breath.

  She got better, when I didn’t. Every laugh, every bit of happiness made zero sense to me.

  I could only cope through her sadness. I understood it; I needed it.

  Does she know abo
ut the past? he asks me.

  She’ll never understand, I type into the chat box, but I don’t send it.

  I shake my head, remembering how I followed her everywhere after Tyler’s death. How I watched her run and that alone was enough to take my pain away. She loved him after all and felt responsible like I did. And if she could move on, so could I. But I could never move on from Addison.

  ***

  Five years ago

  I tell myself the only reason I’m on this train is to speak to her.

  To tell her it’s not her fault and I’m the one to blame.

  That’s the reason I’ve followed her, stalking her in the shadows and silently watching her as she struggles with what to do.

  I tell myself that, but I don’t move. I’m struggling too.

  The train comes to another stop and my grip tightens on the rail as I wait to see what she does. Where she goes, I’ll go.

  I need to make sure she’s okay, that she doesn’t have the same thoughts I do. I’ll protect her.

  Her hoodie is up, hiding her face as she leans against the wall of the train. Unmoving.

  My body tightens, wanting to go to her. To hold her, to check on her and make sure she’s still breathing. She saw him die like I did. That changes you. There’s no way to deny it or to recover.

  It will forever be with us.

  Chapter 17

  Addison

  It’s funny how time moves.

  It crawled along for years before and after Tyler came into my life. Each day’s only purpose was to be a box on a calendar I could cross off with a deep red marker. If I bothered to even count.

  But the days with Tyler, when I was really with him? They flew by. Because time is quite like fate, it’s a bitch.

  And the same thing happened with Daniel. The days were whirlwinds of moments that made me feel like everything was alright. Like it was okay to simply live in his bed and sleep in his arms. Like the selfishness of ignoring everything else was how life is supposed to go.

  But the past few days without him … it’s been worse than the slowest pain. There’s a coldness that feels like it’s just below the surface of my skin. As if my blood refuses to heat. And the nights are filled with memories designed to play on my weakest moments.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  My focus is shifted to the front door of my apartment as I sit cross-legged on my sofa with my laptop cradled on me. The screen’s gone black and I don’t know how long it’s been like that.

  He knocks again. There’s only one person it could be. Daniel.

  Every day and night since we last talked I’ve thought about him. And about what I need to do. Each text he sends is met with a short response that makes the pain in my chest grow.

  I’m no longer in denial. It’s time to move on. That means moving on from everything, including Daniel. And that hurts. But it’s supposed to.

  My neck is killing me from bending over the computer for hours. I have a standing desk; I should really use it, but I don’t. I spend hours a day sitting on the sofa with my computer in my lap while I Photoshop my pictures. There are at least three dozen more I want to edit and post before going out and searching for my next muse. Although I don’t know if I’ll find it here. Maybe it’s time to move on already.

  My sore body aches all over when I stand, but that pain is temporary, so I don’t mind it.

  Each step to the front door makes me feel like I’m running in the opposite direction from where I was going days ago. I’ve come to the only logical decision there is and I’ve never liked breaking up with anyone. The way Daniel made me feel is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Wild and crazy, I suppose. Thanks to the late night sex and not caring about anything, not even our next breath so long as our skin was touching and our desires seeking out refuge in each other.

  Pausing with my hand on the doorknob, I let out a deep breath. He’ll understand. He’s probably here to do the same. This thing between us could never last.

  I feel like I’m being stabbed in the heart, but the moment the door is opened, the pain dims and that other feeling, that fluttering sickness I have trouble describing takes its place. The kind of pain that I want more of, but it scares me.

  “Daniel.” I whisper his name as his dark eyes meet mine and then soften. His leather jacket creases as he puts his hand on the doorframe and leans in slightly.

  “You still mad at me?” he asks with a deep timbre to his voice that speaks to vulnerability and I answer him honestly, shaking my head.

  “I’m not mad at you.” Forgiving others is easy. It’s forgiving myself that’s hard.

  Daniel lets out a breath and starts to come in, but I can’t do this. It’s better to stop it now and not do the easier thing. Which would be to fall back into bed with him and numb the pain with his touch.

  It’s not healthy.

  My palm hits his chest and his expression turns to confusion, but he stops just outside the threshold.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I start to tell Daniel and he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing.

  “This sounds like the we have to talk conversation.” There’s a trace of a threat in his voice.

  “It kind of is,” I say softly and the pain in my heart grows. “I’ve just been thinking about every way this is going to end.”

  “End?” he asks incredulously, moving forward and closing the distance between us. He’s standing on the threshold now.

  It’s hard to speak, but I have to be honest with myself and him. I have to protect myself.

  “I’m not sure we should do this at all.”

  Stunned is how I’d describe the look on Daniel’s face, and it surprises me. “It doesn’t make sense for us to continue this-”

  “You don’t want me?” Daniel asks, cutting me off in a voice devoid of anything but sadness. I’ve never heard the sound from his lips before. The tone pains my heart in a way nothing else ever will. I know it for a fact. Some things simply break a piece of you that can never be mended.

  “That’s not what I meant. Not at all. I didn’t anticipate this happening,” I try to explain. What I thought would be a simple conversation ending with Daniel leaving me behind escalates to something I hadn’t anticipated. “I didn’t think you would care.” My words come out rushed.

  “You thought I wouldn’t care that you’re done with me?”

  “I’m not done … I could never be done with you. But this,” I gesture between us, “this is something I know is going to hurt me. And both of us know will never last.”

  “I’m not Tyler. That’s why?” Daniel’s words should be cutting. They should hurt me. But I only hurt for him. How could he think that?

  I have to swallow hard before I can tell him, “I want you.” I almost say Tyler’s name. I almost tell him how I wanted the love Tyler gave me and how I wanted to love Tyler back but never did. But I can’t. I can’t bring him into this. “It’s not that at all, Daniel. I’ve wanted you for the longest time and I hated myself for it. We can’t even have a simple conversation about anything before…“ I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to let any more words pass.

  “You hate yourself for wanting me?” The sadness is gone and anger quickly takes its place. Suddenly I’m suffocating, finding myself taking a step back and then another although he stays in the doorway, radiating a dominance barely self-contained.

  “You’re scaring me,” I whisper and Daniel flinches. The emotions cycle through him one by one. The anger, the shock, the frustration from not knowing what to do.

  And I’ve felt them all, I’ve also suffered the torture of not knowing what to do for so long. Every day that I felt loved by Tyler but knew I loved Daniel more. I know his pain as if it was my own. But there’s no way to make this right. And the sooner this is over, the better.

  “I want you Daniel, but it’s wrong.”

  “It’s not wrong,” he says and his words come out strangled, his breathing heavier. He almost takes a step forward and then s
tops himself, gripping the edge of the doorframe and lowering his head, hanging it in shame. I’m reminded of the day I first met him and that makes the agony that much worse. “I don’t know how to …” he trails off and swallows thickly.

  “There’s no way this is going to be more than … than what we were doing.”

  His head whips up and his dark eyes pin me in place. Daniel’s always been intense, always been dangerous. For others, I’m sure it’s similar. But they’ll never feel this. Not the way I feel for Daniel.

  “Why does it need to be more right now? Why can’t we hold on to what we have?”

  “It’s not good for either of us, Daniel,” I whisper and wrap my arms around my chest. I don’t know how else to explain it and how he could fail to understand that.

  The silence grows. All I can hear is my own breath as Daniel stands there stiffly, staring at the faded carpet beneath his feet. Finally, he looks me in the eye again and the intensity and pain there shatter me to the very center of my soul.

  “I know that you belonged to Tyler first, as much as I hate to admit that. I hate to say his name. I don’t want to imagine what used to ...”

  “Daniel, please don’t,” I say and reach for him, my heart hurting for his and I hate myself in this moment. Why did I have to do this?

  “We can’t change the past, Addison. I wish I could. But it’s over now. And right now I want you.”

  There was never a point in my life where I thought I’d hear those words from Daniel. And the shock, the sadness, and the conflict of not knowing how to protect myself and what I should do keep the words I’m desperate to say trapped in my throat.

  I want to believe what he’s saying. But he’s already said the words I need to hold on to the conviction of leaving him. There will never be more.

  “You know where to find me if you want to see me.” Daniel’s last words are flat, with a defeated tone.

  I can’t form a coherent thought as he turns his back to me and walks off. This isn’t what I wanted or how I’d planned for it to go. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I say, but my choked words are barely audible to me, let alone Daniel as he disappears in the distance.