Page 16 of Curvy Cabin Fever

RHETT

I ’ve been sitting on the porch for over an hour, staring at the ice-covered lake, trying to talk myself out of this storm brewing in my belly. But no matter how many deep breaths I take or how many times I tell myself to get over it, that ugly feeling won’t budge.

I was a dick, pure and simple. But I did it because I couldn’t fucking stand the sight of her and him after their night together. I know this means I should try to work out why I care about what Morgan does, but I just can’t.

But I do care.

It wasn’t just her moans that kept me awake. It was the sound of his pleasure, too, that she could make him so fucking turned on.

Fuck, this shit is complicated with a capital C, and I hate having to wade through emotions that are turning me into a fucking ogre, a beast, to a beautiful woman who didn’t deserve it.

The question is why.

Why do I feel like this?

I grit my teeth and force myself to look inside of my soul…past the barriers I keep up.

I hate it.

Because in here, I’m exposed.

The boy who wasn’t ever loved, not really, who turned into a man who was only wanted for his good looks and money. Because no one knows who Rhett Callahan is other than…Morgan and Damien.

My best friends.

But in here, Morgan is different. Maybe he hasn’t ever noticed how I stare at him a little too hard sometimes, or wonder what it would be like to feel his lips on mine, his hand stroking my bare skin.

Because even though I’m fully accepting of Morgan’s sexuality, it isn’t how I was brought up.

Being gay or bisexual was always a sin against God, and in all honesty, other than him, I have never found another man attractive.

I ignored it for years, thinking it was hormones or some shit, but when Morgan announced he liked men too, my fucking heart danced because it meant there might be a chance.

But I couldn’t do it; too proud, stubborn, and too fucking scared of what my parents would say. They were strict and religious, but they were also the only parents that wanted me. I couldn’t break their hearts by falling in love with my male best friend, for fuck’s sake.

Not that it’s love, fuck.

Then I think of Aria, and my heart slams in my chest. It must be something about her because even Damien and Morgan can’t leave her alone. I want to take her to my room, barricade the door, get on my hands and knees, and apologize.

The rugged exterior that she sees is the Rhett most people know, and now she’s probably afraid of me.

Silly prick, shooting insults at her like that. You deserved that punch.

I shrug my shoulders back and allow my thoughts to move to Morgan, who said nothing when I lost my shit. He didn’t have to—the disappointment in his eyes said enough.

And Damien punched me.

I sigh heavily and wish I could go back in time and keep my temper and jealousy in check. It’s not fucking like me to react.

It’s Morgan and Aria; they’re driving me crazy. It probably doesn’t help that we are cooped up in this cabin together. I knit my brows and assess my surroundings, the thought of driving into town a fucking delightful escape.

I could try to shovel the driveway and inspect the roads.

Anything to keep me outside.

The snow’s finally stopped, at least. The storm that buried us in the mountains has passed, leaving a heavy silence behind. The kind I don’t need.

It’s still cold as hell, but the sun is out now, bright and unbothered by the shitshow I helped create.

The snow is piled high against the trees, the lake’s edges are frozen, and the road leading down the mountain is still a mess.

It’s not impassable—not anymore. If Aria wanted to leave, she probably could.

That thought settles in my stomach like a rock.

So I grab a shovel and start to clear the driveway. Not for her—at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

It’s for me.

Because sitting in that cabin, knowing what’s happening in Morgan’s room, knowing they are touching her , making her moan—making her fucking stay—it’s driving me insane.

The crunch of boots on the ice behind me has me gripping the handle a little tighter.

It’s her.

It’s like I can fucking sense her, and I have no clue how or why. It’s almost ethereal, this stupid connection I have with her.

I shouldn’t worry; she hates me now.

Aria steps up beside me, her arms wrapped around herself. Her breath curls in the cold air, frigid with the tension between us.

Fuck, I don’t know what to do.

I concentrate on the job at hand, refusing to look at her. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to me, maybe she’s going to her car?—

“Rhett?” Her voice is barely a whisper carried by the icy wind, and I don’t know if it’s because she’s ready to challenge me or if she’s afraid.

Please don’t be the latter.

I brace myself and exhale heavily through my nose. I don’t know what the hell she’s going to say, but my jaw locks, my body tense, ready for attack. Blood throbs in my ears as I grit my teeth, preparing myself for whatever she says.

Accept what she says to you and apologize.

“I…” I begin, my voice hoarse and lost in the wind.

I can’t fucking do it.

But then Aria peers down at me, her hair sliding around her pink puffy coat as she meets my eyes.

I try to turn away, but I can’t; I’m lost in her beautiful eyes, even with the apprehension I see in them. Something tugs at my chest, and I rise to my full height, my heart hammering.

“Yes?” I say formally, watching as she blinks, stepping back a little.

I wasn’t abrupt, was I? I didn’t mean to be.

Her dark hair frames her face as we stare at one another, my cheeks stinging from the cold. She’s wearing her clothes, I’m relieved to see, because I’m a jealous bastard.

“I think we need to talk,” Aria says quickly, blowing out a nervous breath after her words leave her plump lips.

I stare at her before glancing around at the icy driveway. I dig the shovel into a heap of snow I’ve created and nod.“I guess we do.”

Her eyes narrow like she’s waiting for me to say something, the curl of her lips showing her disappointment in me.

But I have to say it.

Now.

“I owe you an apology,” I say, refusing to meet her eyes. I rake a hand through my hair, wishing I had worn a hat. It’s still freezing.

“You do,” Aria agrees, crossing her arms over her chest.

I stare at her as she raises her eyebrows expectantly.

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” I grit out, hating how difficult it is to apologize to this woman. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Thank you,” Aria replies quietly, still watching me like I’m going to grab the shovel and hit her with it. “I need to ask you something.”

Here we go.

I can’t imagine what it is, but already I’m sweating.

I scratch my head and glance around, trying to calm the erratic beat of my heart.

Why does she affect me so much? This is insanity.

I’m a CEO, for fuck’s sake. I can talk to hundreds of people in a room with authority, yet I’m a puddle of piss in front of this curvy goddess?

Jesus, Rhett, pull it together.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Aria inquires suddenly, and my breath leaves my body in a whoosh of surprise.

My head shakes no of its own accord. “I don’t…” I laugh awkwardly, but she remains stoic, gazing at me while I bluster like an awkward teenager. But she thinks I hate her, and I shouldn’t be surprised after my little attack on her.

God, I was such a cunt.

“I don’t hate you; I’m sorry I made you feel like that,” I state softly, meaning every word. “I don’t know you to hate you or to judge you. So again, I apologize for my nasty comments. I was a little out of sorts, not that it’s an excuse.”

I heave out a sigh and meet her eyes.

She isn’t buying it.

Aria tilts her head, her brows pulling together. “You keep saying that, but you still haven’t explained why you act like you hate me, Rhett.”

Fuck.

I exhale sharply, reaching for the shovel and gripping it like a lifeline. “What do you want me to say, Aria?”

She lets out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “I want the truth. Because I don’t think you were just ‘out of sorts.’ You don’t look at Morgan or Damien like that. Just me.”

I stiffen.

Is it that obvious?

Aria sighs, rubbing a hand over her face like she’s tired of dealing with my shit. “If you don’t hate me, then what is it? Because you’re the only one making this complicated.”

I fucking hate that she’s right.

I glance back toward the road. The path is clearing, but it’s still a fucking mess. I don’t know how to answer her, not without exposing things I’m not ready to face and saying something I can’t take back.

So, I do what I do best—I deflect.

“You could leave now, you know,” I remark, nodding toward the road. “The storm’s passed. It won’t be easy, but if you really want to go, you can.”

Her lips press together, and I see the flicker of hurt in her eyes before she masks it.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asks softly.

And there it is.

The fucking question I don’t have an answer to.

I swallow hard, my grip tightening on the shovel. “I?—”

She steps forward, forcing me to look at her. “Because I will, Rhett. If you tell me to go, I will. But if you don’t want me to…” She trails off, her breath curling in the cold air between us, waiting for me to say it.

I should tell her to leave or push her away before I fuck this up even more. But my hand twitches by my side, itching to reach for her. My jaw clenches so hard it aches, and I stand there like a fucking idiot, mute.

And Aria sees right through me.

Her shoulders drop, and her voice is barely above a whisper when she speaks again. “That’s what I thought.”

Then she turns to leave.

And for the second time in two days, I fucking watch her walk away.

And I hate every second.