Page 58 of Curvy Cabin Fever
I never gave her anything but shit.
Her lips move subtly as though she’s mouthing the words, completely absorbed in whatever world exists between those pages. And despite everything, I desperately want to go to her. I want to kneel beside that chair, rest my head in her lap, and tell her I’m sorry. That I need her and I don’t know how to navigate any of this properly, but I genuinely want to try.
But I remain rooted in place, replaying everything I’ve left unsaid between us.
She glances up suddenly—her eyes catching mine across the room. And for once, she doesn’t flinch at the sight of me, but she doesn’t smile, either. Instead, she watches me with a guarded expression, like she’s mentally preparing herself for another emotional blow.
“Can we talk?” I ask, keeping my voice deliberately low.
She nods slowly and deliberately sets the book aside. “Sure.” Her voice quivers, and I curse myself.
I did that to her.
I move to sit across from her, perching tensely on the edge of the couch with my hands braced firmly against my knees.
“I didn’t mean any of what I said. I said those horrible things because I was angry and scared and... honestly, I hated how it made me feel, seeing you with him. With them.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “So you punished me for it? For feelings you couldn’t handle?”
I swallow, cringing at the accuracy of her assessment. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
She doesn’t look away, like she’s waiting for me to continue.
Fucking hell.
“I’m not good at this,” I confess, the words feeling raw in my throat. “I’ve never—I don’t let people in. I don’t have meaningful connections. It’s always been difficult for me to trust. And then, when I saw you with Damien, something inside me panicked. When I saw how you were with Morgan, something in me just...broke. It’s not an excuse, though.”
Her lips part slightly, confusion flickering briefly across her face. “Youwerejealous?”
I look away, unable to meet her searching gaze. “Intensely. Of both of them.”
And of you.
But I can’t go there now. She couldn’t handle the Morgan thing—even I can’t.
The silence is loud between us, and I know she wants more.
“Iwasjealous,” I repeat, my eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “And I wanted to hate that feeling. But I couldn’t shake it. Then I started hating myself for feeling that way. For wanting...for wanting something I didn’t think I deserved.”
Her voice comes softly when she finally speaks. “So you lashed out at me instead of dealing with your feelings?”
“Yeah,” I admit.
She exhales slowly, deliberately. “You’ve been punishing all of us. Including yourself.”
I force myself to look at her then—really look at the damage I’ve caused.
“I don’t want to be that person anymore,” I state with newfound conviction. “I don’t want to be the reason you look atme like you’re constantly bracing for impact. I genuinely want to make things right between us.”
She stands up without warning and walks toward me, and I have no idea if she’s going to slap me or simply walk past me altogether.
To my surprise, she carefully straddles my lap, her knees bracketing my thighs, and cups my face gently between her warm hands.
“Then stop talking,” she whispers against my skin. “And show me you mean it.”
Oh, fuck.
Our mouths come together like we’ve both been starved for this connection.
