Page 28 of Curvy Cabin Fever
I shake my head and sip my coffee. Maybe she’s a seductress, all plump lips, dark hair and curves for fucking days. Maybe it’s her husky voice, her flushed cheeks or?—
Nope. Not doing this.
I step out onto the wraparound porch, inhaling the sharp scent of pine still heavy in the chilly air. The world outside is a frozen masterpiece, untouched and gleaming under the pale morning light.
The lake stretches out before me, a vast expanse of glassy ice, cracked in places where the cold settled deep into its depths. The rising sun barely peeks over the treetops, casting long shadows across the snow, turning the thick drifts into a mixture of silver and blue. Everything is still.
Too still.
Like the world is holding its breath, waiting for something to shatter the peace.
Ice weighs down the trees around the lake, making their needles glitter like diamonds. A few stubborn branches sag under the weight, and now and then, a chunk of ice breaks free, tumbling to the ground with a muffledthumpagainst the packed snow.
The cold bites at my skin through my thick wooly sweater, sharp and bracing, but I welcome it. Anything to distract me from the thoughts gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
A faint wind stirs through the trees, rattling frozen branches, sending tiny crystals swirling through the air.
I exhale slowly, watching my breath curl into the morning, a brief glimpse of heat before it vanishes—just like my fucking peace of mind.
Because no matter how still and quiet it is out here, nothing inside me is calm.
I stare out at the frozen lake, forcing myself to focus on anything but the pounding in my skull, or the tension in my gut. The fucking ache that weighs heavily in my chest.
Morgan is mybest friend. Ishouldbe happy for him. I should be able to brush this off and act like last night didn’t fucking gut me.
But I can’t.
Because every time I close my eyes, all I see isher with him.
I grind my teeth, lifting my mug to my lips, but the coffee’s already gone cold.
Perfect.
The door creaks open behind me, the quiet shuffle of movement breaking the stillness.
I don’t turn around—I don’t have to.
I know exactly who it is.
“I didn’t think I’d find you out here.” Morgan’s voice is rough with sleep but still fucking smug. Like last night wasn’t just a fuck marathon, but a goddamn victory lap.
I force my fingers to unclench from the mug, but my jaw stays locked. “Yeah, well. Couldn’t sleep.”
Morgan leans against the railing beside me, stretching his arms overhead with a satisfied groan.
I want to hit him.
I want to wipe that cocky grin off his face, to make him feel even half of what I’m feeling right now.
Instead, I stay perfectly still, my fingers tightening around the railing.
Morgan eyes me, taking a slow sip of his own coffee before smirking. “Something on your mind, man?”
I exhale sharply through my nose. “Nope.”
He chuckles.
Fucker.
