Page 92 of Curvy Cabin Fever
Instead, I’m sitting here in one of Morgan’s sweatshirts, hair still wet from the shower, heart pounding like I’m waiting for a verdict. The fabric smells like him—cedar and something else I can’t name but would recognize anywhere. It’s too big on me, sleeves hanging past my fingertips, but I don’t mind. It feels like armor against what comes next.
Damien walks in first. He’s already dressed, hair still damp at the temples from his morning shower. He takes one look at me and stills. He knows.
Of course, he does.
He always sees the things I try not to say.
Morgan follows a minute later, yawning. He glances between us and goes quiet, too, reading the tension in the room with surprising accuracy for someone who’s barely awake.
And then Rhett.
Always the last to enter, always the one who carries the most weight when he does. His eyes meet mine across the kitchen, and he doesn’t look away. There’s something in his gaze that makes my stomach flip—determination, maybe. Or resignation. I can’t tell which.
“Today’s the day,” I say, breaking the silence that has settled over us like another layer of snow.
Silence. The kind that feels loaded with words no one knows how to say.
I press on, needing to fill the space before it caves in around us. “The rental’s due back by six. At the airport. If I don’t return it, they’ll charge me for another day.” My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears, like I’m reciting facts from a distance.
Still nothing. Just three pairs of eyes watching me with varying degrees of intensity.
I bite my lip. “And my flight leaves tomorrow morning.” The words taste bitter, like admitting defeat.
Morgan moves first. He walks over, takes the coffee from my hands with gentle fingers, sets it down on the table with a soft clunk, and pulls me into a hug.
Not playfully, like usual. It’s the kind of hug that saysI’m here, and I’m not letting go until you tell me to. His arms are warm around me, solid and reassuring, and I let my forehead rest against his shoulder.
“You haven’t packed,” he murmurs into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp.
“I know.”
“You don’t want to go.”
“No,” I breathe, the admission feeling like relief and terror simultaneously. “I really fucking don’t.”
I pull back and look at all three of them, these men who’ve somehow become essential to me in ways I never expected. “So what happens now? Because I can’t...I can’t keep pretending this was just a vacation. Or a snowstorm thing. Or something I can file away as a ‘good memory’ when I go back to Denver and sit in my apartment alone.” The thought of returning to my empty life makes something twist painfully in my chest.
Damien steps forward, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on mine with that unwavering focus that always makes me feel like I’m the only person in the room.
“Then don’t go.”
My throat tightens. Two simple words that carry the weight of everything I’ve been afraid to hope for.
Morgan turns to the others. “Tell her.” There’s an urgency in his voice, an insistence that makes me straighten in my chair.
Rhett runs a hand down his face, clearly bracing himself for whatever comes next. “We talked. Last night. After you went to bed.”
“You three do that a lot,” I murmur, remembering other whispered conversations that stopped when I entered the room.
“Only when we’re planning how to keep you.”
The words hit me like a punch and a kiss all at once, knocking the breath from my lungs while sending heat flooding through my body. Keep me. Like I’m something precious, something worth holding onto.
Damien nods, leaning against the counter with a deceptive casualness that doesn’t match the intensity in his eyes. “We don’t want you to leave. But we know we can’t all just drop everything and play house.” His realism is oddly comforting—even now, he’s thinking of logistics, of making this work beyond the fantasy.
“So here’s the plan,” Morgan says, sitting beside me and taking my hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
“You stay here,” Damien continues. “With me. The cabin’s already yours too.” He says it matter-of-factly, as though this revelation shouldn’t surprise me.
