Page 70 of Curvy Cabin Fever
Being with Aria calms me like nothing else.
When she finally stands, she squeezes my hand before heading back toward the cabin, leaving a warm patch where her palm was and a bigger, quieter ache in my chest.
I watch her go. I tell myself I’ll follow in a minute, but really, I just need to get my shit together—I need to make sure when I walk back in that I’m still her rock. Because it’s strange knowing that I am sharing her—technically—but it doesn’t feel like that, not really. If Aria is happy, I’m happy. I mean, I know that Morgan and Rhett have got their thing going on—who doesn’t know that—but does Aria know?
Jesus Christ.
Will she care, or will they all…fuck?
I suck in a breath and shake my head. I don’t want to be part of that—I want her to myself in the bedroom, but I don’t feel jealous of them having her without me. As long as that’s what she wants, I mean.
By the time I push open the door, the smell of food hits me first. Morgan’s at the stove, humming to himself, pan clattering as he flips something golden and buttery.
Damn, he can cook.
Rhett’s sitting at the table, staring out the window, boots tapping an anxious rhythm against the floorboards. Aria is curled up at the end of the couch, hair falling into her eyes as she reads, one leg tucked under her, looking—if possible—happier than she did yesterday.
No one says much. Just the background hum of a house full of people trying not to crowd each other. I set my boots by the door and hang my coat, spying the flannel I gave Aria earlier, a smile playing on my lips at the thought of her snuggling it.
Morgan glances over his shoulder at me, eyes quick and clever. “You hungry, man? Hope you like eggs for the third day running.”
“Eggs are good,” I say, settling into the seat across from Rhett. “Protein.”
“Better than the jerky,” Aria calls, her voice light, teasing.
And just like that, we’re a family. Four people in the middle of nowhere, pretending this is easy, that the outside world isn’t waiting, that what we’re building here can last.
I don’t know how it will end, or what happens when the snow finally melts, but I know one thing for sure?—
I’d rather have her like this—surrounded, adored, the center of our small universe—than never have her at all.
I sipthe coffee Morgan’s brewed—strong, a little burnt, but hot—and let the warmth settle into my chest. Rhett hasn’t said a word since I sat down, but his foot still taps against the floor like he’s nervous.
I can only imagine how he feels—fucking MorganandAria. I’ve got it all going on in my mind with just Aria.
Aria tucks her bookmark between the pages and sets her book aside. Her eyes sweep the room once—first to Morgan, then me, then finally to Rhett.
“We should do something tonight,” she suggests. “Something fun.”
Morgan flips a pancake. “Like what, darling? Strip poker?”
Rhett finally snorts, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Pretty sure I’d lose. I can’t bluff for shit.”
“Truth or dare?” Aria offers, smiling.
I arch a brow. “I’m sure if you want one of us naked, you only need to ask.”
“True.” Her grin is wicked and bright, but underneath it, I see something else. She doesn’t want sex right now—she wants a deeper connection—something else. Somethingthe four of uscan share.
I like how she includes me without hesitation. I’ve been the quiet one in all this. The shadow. Yet she doesn’t care.
Morgan sets the last plate down and gestures grandly. “Breakfast for dinner is served. Eat up before Rhett broods a hole through the wall.”
Rhett rolls his eyes. “I’m not brooding.”
“You’re always brooding,” Morgan mutters.
“Boys,” Aria warns, sliding into the seat beside me, across from them. “Behave.”
