17. Darcy
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
darcy
The ride home is short, but the loaded silence makes it feel like we might as well be on a road trip through New England.
We pile into the back of a Toyota Corolla—Tyler on my left, Mack on my right, and me wedged in the middle with about as much personal space as a carry-on in an overhead compartment.
Between broad shoulders, long legs, and exactly zero apparent concern for the concept of boundaries, they settle in like this is the most natural thing in the world.
Mack’s thigh rests against mine.
Tyler’s arm stretches along the back of the seat behind my shoulders.
I sit very, very straight and make a heroic attempt to think about literally anything else.
Groceries. Laundry. The Roman Empire.
Instead, my brain lands on the fact that they’re both practically spread-eagled with me in the middle.
I think the universe is trying to tell me something.
The only eggs I can think about right now are the ones that might’ve just been fertilized by sheer proximity.
“You’re pretty tense for someone who volunteered to sit in the middle,” Tyler says, practically glowing with himself.
“I didn’t volunteer,” I breathe. “There’s three of us and I’m the smallest. This was basic geometry.”
Tyler doesn’t even bother trying to hide his amusement.
“Mhm.”
I look toward Mack, hoping for literally anything resembling support.
He glances over.
“You’ve been sitting like that since we left the bar.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re afraid to touch either of us.”
My cheeks immediately fill with heat.
“I’m just trying to keep things…” I gesture vaguely between the three of us.
Mack looks at me for a beat.
“Bit late for that, don’t you think?”
Tyler huffs out a laugh.
“I think we passed that somewhere around the bunny conversation.”
He gives my shoulder a light squeeze, which does nothing to help my current situation.
When we pull up to the brownstone, I climb out of the Corolla with the dignity of someone who has absolutely not spent the entire ride wondering if prolonged thigh contact can result in immaculate conception.
The cold air is a relief against my face.
The three of us move up the salt-covered stoop in easy silence that’s starting to feel like its own language. I fish my keys out of my bag out of habit before remembering I don’t need them.
Tyler holds the door as Mack’s hand finds the small of my back for the two seconds it takes me to step inside to the moonlit foyer. Two seconds that my body is determined to remember.
The door clicks shut behind us.
I stop at the bottom of the stairs, halfway out of my coat, and turn to find both of them still stopped in the middle of the foyer looking at me.
I make the mistake of meeting Tyler’s eyes first. His smile is already there, easy and knowing, like he’s waiting to see how long it takes me to say whatever’s been sitting between the three of us all night.
Then I look at Mack.
He doesn’t smile. Not really.
The corner of his mouth barely moves, but his eyes never leave mine, calm enough that it almost feels like the decision’s already been made and I’m the last one to hear about it.
Looking at one of them is distracting enough. Trying to decide where to put my eyes while they’re both looking at me feels wildly unfair.
“Sooo…” I say.
Tyler’s smile deepens.
“Sooo…?”
I motion vaguely between the three of us.
“Today.”
Mack tips his chin.
“What about it?”
“You didn’t have to invite me.”
The words come out softer than I’d meant them to.
“The parade, the bar. All of it.”
Tyler shrugs like the answer should be obvious.
“Why wouldn’t we?”
“I don’t know.” I laugh once under my breath. “I’m still pretty new here.”
“You’re not anymore,” Mack says.
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“I just…” I shake my head. “Thanks.”
“You don’t have to thank us,” Tyler says.
“You were exactly where we wanted you to be,” Mack adds.
“Yeah.” Tyler glances at Mack before meeting my eyes. “You’re one of ours now.”
The words knock the wind out of me.
I look from one of them to the other, both of their green eyes almost black now.
“Is that what I am?” I breathe.
Tyler shrugs playfully.
“Could be.”
Mack takes a step closer to me, and I swear my erratic pulse is audible at this point.
“Would you like that, Darcy?”
The heat between my legs makes me want to squeeze my thighs together for half a second of relief. My body betrays me. How the fuck am I supposed to hold strong when they say things like that and are currently looking at me like their next meal.
“I…” I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want things to get weird. I just ended an engagement. This is my home.”
“And it’ll stay that way,” Mack assures me immediately.
“No expectations,” Tyler adds, “no pressure.”
“If tonight ends with us saying goodnight exactly the way we have every other night, that’s ok.”
“If you decide tomorrow you never want to see us again, we’ll make that happen, too.”
I chew on my lower lip.
“No…weirdness after?”
“Zero weirdness,” Tyler says teasingly. “Just…some casual, neighborly fun. Doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“Your call,” Mack says. “Always.”
Just sex.
I mean the idea of anything else is completely ridiculous, anyway.
“Trust, Darcy,” Mack’s voice comes out more gravely now. “Remember?”
Shit. Who am I even kidding? I’m already in.
“Okay,” I finally sigh in half relief, half nervous excitement. “No weirdness. Just…fun.”
The silence that follows lasts maybe half a second. It’s like lighting a fuse in a room full of hydrogen.
Tyler’s eyes drop to my mouth before meeting mine again. When I look at Mack, he’s already closer, the last traces of any restraint gone from his expression, replaced by something that makes my stomach dip—hungry, certain, like he’s been waiting a very long time for me to say yes.
“You sure about this?”
I bite my lip and nod.
His hand comes up beneath my chin, light enough that I could stop this at any moment. The kiss is soft at first. Easy, testing, like there’s no hurry in the world because he already knows how this ends and plans on taking his sweet time.
My hand finds his shirt without deciding to and the kiss deepens, his tongue finding mine, sending heat moving through me fast enough that I forget that I’ve been trying to be careful about this.
His other hand slides to my waist and I press into him as our lips move and tongues twirl around each other’s and for one suspended, breathless moment I stop thinking about anything at all.
When he pulls back, his forehead drops against mine.
“There she is,” he murmurs.
I open my eyes to find two sets of green staring back.
My breath comes out uneven, and I’m all too aware of my own pulse pounding through my body, begging for more.
Before Tyler even steps away, Mack’s calloused hands find my waist, his grip firm and grounding.
I turn fully toward him before he even has to tell me to. He kisses me the way I’ve spent six weeks half-consciously bracing for. One rough hand slides to my cheek keeping me exactly where he wants me—even though we both already know I’m not going anywhere.
It isn’t soft or asking. It’s the kind of kiss that alters your brain chemistry and leaves you trying to remember your own name.
My hands trace the back of his neck, threading into his hair while he walks me back until my shoulders hit the wall.
His whole body presses into me, and I feel exactly how much he wants this too.
My hips roll against his thigh without my permission, desperately chasing friction, pulling a low growl out of him that vibrates against my mouth.
Then—
Without warning, he breaks the kiss and pulls back, leaving both our chests heaving. His hand falls away from my face as he takes another measured step back, his jaw tightening like it physically costs him something to put the space between us.
“You should get some sleep.”
I stare at him in disbelief.
“What the fuck?”
His expression doesn’t change.
“Tomorrow.”
Then he’s through the door. Gone.
I spin around toward Tyler still trying to catch my breath.
“That’s a crime.”
He exhales through his nose, somewhere between amusement and sympathy.
“Yeah.”
He closes the distance again, gentler this time, his hands settling briefly at my waist before he presses a lingering kiss to my temple.
“Goodnight, Trouble.”
Then he follows Mack through the door.
I stay exactly where I am, my back against the wall, my breathing still uneven, my body running several thousand degrees warmer than seems medically advisable as I stare at their apartment door.
Eventually I push myself upright and head for the stairs.
I make it halfway before I stop, a quiet, disbelieving laugh slipping out into the empty stairwell.
Okay. We’re doing this.
I don’t try to talk myself out of it. I just go upstairs and wait for tomorrow.