A lamp-lit house. Three people with a past. One month to decide whether desire can become a life. In House of Heat: Desire, Memory, and the Making of a Queer Family, Azariah Logo tells a tender, electric story about three former lovers-Ellis, Mara, and Rohan-and Lucia, the new friend who refuses to let them stay silent. When the four share a creaking old house for a month, the rooms begin to hum with what's been left unsaid: nights that still ache, jealousy that thickens the air, and a longing that refuses to remain theoretical. Ellis has practiced vanishing from their own wants. Mara has confused crisis with proof of love. Rohan treats distance like a form of care. Lucia, steady and disarmingly honest, holds up the mirror no one asked for. Under one roof-amid music, shared meals, and the small rituals of living-their history first flares, then softens, as they choose between familiar storms and something braver: stability, clarity, and a way of loving that doesn't require fire to feel real. Told in intimate scenes and charged silences, House of Heat explores consent and communication, the politics of jealousy, and the courage it takes to ask for "mornings, not just nights." Bodies speak, boundaries shift, and the house itself seems to listen as the four learn how to say what they mean and stay when it's hard. Sensual without spectacle, compassionate without sentimentality, this is a novel about the work of being known and the relief of being chosen on purpose. At once erotic and deeply humane, House of Heat asks: What if the bravest act isn't falling in love again-but staying, speaking, and building something that can survive the morning?