Cabin Fever

by Edie Bryant

  CABIN FEVER

  EDIE BRYANT

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  FREE Pumpkin Patch Excerpt

  11. Pia

  12. Lila

  13. Pia

  14. Lila

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2017 by Edie Bryant

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a reimagined version of a previously published MM romance novel. I really enjoyed revitalizing this story with lesbian themes and new lovers. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed rewriting it.

  1

  Liz

  “SHIT,” I mumbled, as I pulled a batch of burnt cookies out of the oven. Fantastic, I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of this.

  I was a shitty cook and an even worse baker, but I was trying to practice prior to the holiday weekend next week.

  I was going with my girlfriend to her family’s house, and she had volunteered us to bring some dessert. I still wasn’t sure exactly what that dessert was going to be; hopefully something more complex than cookies, but it looked like maybe not.

  The unfortunate thing was that my girlfriend really wasn’t that bad of a cook, but she never wanted to do it. I was responsible for pretty much all our meals except on the rare occasion when she made a phone call to the pizza delivery place. Whether I was buying groceries full of frozen food or picking things up on my way home from work, I was the only one in charge of dinner.

  In fact, most of the time when I came home, the first question out of my girlfriend’s mouth was, “what’s for dinner?” I do all the housework, too! So, you might ask, what does she bring to the relationship?

  Honestly, I don’t know anymore.

  It didn’t always used to be like this. A couple years ago, we had a great relationship. She put effort into us, and she was a genuinely sweet girl. That’s actually why I fell for her, because she was so unbelievably kind to me.

  But I haven’t seen that kindness in a long time. And these days, there was more cruelty than kindness. I can’t even remember the last time I heard her say, “I love you,” or apologize for her behavior. She’s just kind of an asshole twenty-four-seven these days.

  And, I know I should leave. In fact, I plan to, just… not right now. I don’t want to dump her right before the holidays. I don’t want to be that cruel.

  Which is funny, because cruelty was pretty much all she showed me. But I’d like to rise above her. Besides, I know she’s going to be even more hellish to break up with if I do it right before Christmas. She’ll go on a tirade about how I’m ruining her Christmas and what is she supposed to tell her family and blah blah, whatever. I don’t feel like dealing with it. And I won’t have to for much longer.

  “Liz, are those cookies done?!” I heard her call from the living room. “I need a snack!”

  She then proceeded to laugh at something she saw on television. That’s all she does when she comes over to my house, use my flat screen television and ignore me unless she has to ask me something about food.

  I found myself actually dreading her visits these days. It was so unhealthy, but it’ll only be a couple more weeks. Eventually, I would get this girl off my back and out of my life.

  I sighed and walked from the kitchen into the living room. I wasn’t even going to mention the cookies. With any luck, she’d just forgotten about them when she’d gotten reabsorbed into whatever television show at which she’d been gawking.

  I sat on the couch next to her and knew immediately by the look she was giving me that this was not going to end easily.

  “What’s that smell?” she snapped.

  “What smell?” I played stupid, though I knew damn well what she was talking about.

  “That… burning smell. Did you ruin the cookies?”

  “Uh, yeah, I did,” I admitted and then turned my attention to the television.

  She stared at me angrily. “You’re kidding me, right!? I’ve been fucking waiting an hour for them.”

  I rolled my eyes at this exaggeration. “It hasn’t taken me an hour to bake the cookies.”

  “How the hell do you know?!” she snapped quickly.

  “Because, Sarah, the recipe only gave me a fifteen minute prep-time and twenty minute cook-time.”

  She scoffed. “Yeah, and you went over on the cook-time, and I’m positive you went over on the prep-time, since it takes you a million fucking years to do the simplest thing. Seriously, how hard is it to bake cookies? How the hell can you expect to bake something for my family’s Christmas if you can’t even avoid ruining cookies?!”

  “It was an accident, okay!” I snapped back. “I forgot to put a timer on, and I got distracted. There’s no need to berate me for it.”

  “Yeah, there is, because if I just let it go, you’re never going to learn.”

  I was immediately disgusted by what she had said. Well, that was a new concept for her. She’d never let on before that she felt like she needed to teach me proper behavior. Like I’m some child or a pet she has to train. She has to verbally harass me for me to learn anything, is that really what she thinks?

  Hell, maybe that’s why she’d been like this lately. She did manage to insult or criticize me at any given opportunity. Maybe she thought she was just doing her job in teaching me to be a better fucking girlfriend or some shit.

  “You don’t need to teach me anything,” I told her coldly. “I can learn on my own, and, even if I couldn’t, do you really think yelling at me will to make me a better cook?”

  “I don’t fucking know. Maybe! I’ve got to try something! Being nice doesn’t get the best out of you, either. And I have to make sure that something decent is made for my family, so I won’t be totally fucking embarrassed.”

  I told myself to bite my tongue, but it was easier said than done.

  “If you want to make sure something is done, why don’t you do it?! Why does it have to be me? I’m not even a good fucking cook, and you are!”

  “I don’t have the time!” she bit back.

  Which was total bullshit. She worked about five hours more than I did each week, but she acted like she was working her ass off while I had all the time in the world to cook and clean.

  And, okay, this is my apartment, so I know I should be responsible for all the cleaning here. But the thing is, she spends literally all of her spare time here. I’m pretty much never allowed to go over to her place. Which means she comes over here, expects me to make food for her, makes a mess in my apartment every night, and leaves me responsible for cleaning it up.

  Seriously, she doesn’t even clean up after herself! She stays up late in my apartment playing video games and leaves beer cans and snack wrappers all over my kitchen table. If she spills something, she just fucking pretends it didn’t happen! Chip crumbs all over the carpet from her eating on the couch, which I’ve asked her not to do? Completely my problem. Nothing is her responsibility.

  “You’re really not much busier than I am,” I told her sternly. “In fact, with cooking and cleaning, I’m a hell of a lot busier than you are. And this is for your family. You can bake them whatever you want, this doesn’t have to fall on me.”


  “You’re so fucking worthless,” she snapped back.

  This is what she does every time an argument doesn’t go her way. Instead of making a counter-argument, she simply snaps back by insulting me.

  Though, admittedly, it’s usually not as cruel as, “you’re fucking worthless.” This was setting me over the edge. I could feel my blood boiling, and I knew, in that moment, I couldn’t do this any longer. I couldn’t continue to live my life like this. I don’t deserve this treatment.

  “You know what? Get out,” I said coldly.

  “What?!” she roared. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?!”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to?! Your slave?! Your little bitch girlfriend? Someone who isn’t going to stick up for herself? Yeah, I could see why you’d think that, considering I really haven’t up until this point, but that’s done. I’m done with this. You’re not going to mistreat me anymore. Get out of my house.”

  “You can’t kick me out!”

  “I just did. Go, get out.”

  “So, is that it?” she asked. “You’re just breaking up with me now?”

  “That’s right,” I said, not even batting an eye.

  I had no regrets about this, especially after what she had just said. I had made up my mind that this had been over a long time ago, and I had no qualms about finally ending it. I didn’t even feel bad about the holidays anymore. If I was so worthless, then she didn’t need me to help her.

  Her jaw dropped. “Over one fucking fight!? We’ve been together for years, and you’re going to end this over one fight?!”

  “Of course not. This isn’t over one fight. It’s over months and months of you treating me badly. Months of you snapping at me over insignificant things. Months of you implying that you’re somehow better than I am, that I just hold you back. But now, you’re not even implying it, you’re just saying that I’m worthless to you! Why should I stay with you when it’s clear you don’t even like me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a drama queen.”

  I had to laugh, because I was the opposite of a drama queen. I was subdued, patient; I pretty much never have issues with anyone. Not at work, not with friends, not with my family, nobody! And even with her, I rarely responded to her escalating our fights.

  But there was no point in arguing this with her. Obviously, my mind was made up anyway. Why fight about it?

  “Yep, that’s me, the drama queen. Now get out.”

  She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious, you want me to go?”

  “Yeah, I want you to go, now.”

  “My fucking show is on!” She motioned to the television.

  Holy shit, is that seriously what she’s thinking about right now? That I’m disrupting her fucking television time? God, of course she is. She was so fucking selfish…

  “Go watch it at your house!”

  “I’ll miss it while I’m driving over there!”

  “Honestly, Sarah, I could not give a fuck less. I want you gone. You have disrespected me enough in my own fucking house. You should have thought about your precious television show before you called me worthless.”

  She threw my remote across the room. “Fucking fine, I’ll go, and I won’t fucking forget you kicking me out like this!”

  “Why would I care if you do or don’t forget it?” I asked. “Why would that matter to me?”

  “Because you’re going to regret this. You’ll start to miss me as soon as I’m gone, and you’re going to wish that I’d come back into your life. But I fucking won’t, Liz! If you push me out that door, then I’m gone forever.”

  “Great!” I shouted. “That’s exactly what I’ve been looking for! Ding ding ding, get out that door forever!”

  She lowered her eyes at me, and I could tell, she knew I was serious. She knew this was the last time I was going to see her. That I was completely through with her ass.

  I didn’t know what I had expected out of her. I guess a little part of me had thought she might try to change when she had realized she was losing me. That she would have begged and pleaded for a second chance and promise on everything that she’d change her attitude for me.

  But that’s not what happened, and it’s definitely not what I should have expected. She went the entire opposite direction, actually. She was going full scorched earth on me.

  “You know what? I’m not leaving,” she said, as she sat back down on the couch.

  “What?!”

  “I’m not fucking going.” She turned back in the direction of the television and pretended I wasn’t there.

  “You have to go! You don’t have a choice! This is my place.”

  “Yeah? Who’s going to force me out? You?” she laughed. “Nah, think I’ll sit right here and enjoy television for the rest of the night.”

  And just like that, I felt like everything I had once thought of her was solidified. The fear that she had only ever wanted to come over here was because my place was better than her apartment and I had a big television was suddenly no longer unfounded.

  I mean, I guess it never was unfounded. I’ve had reason to suspect this for a long time. But, now I knew, I was nothing to her.

  “Get out, or I’ll call the fucking cops,” I threatened.

  “No, you won’t, though. I know you. I know what kind of person you are. You’re too much of a coward to call the cops on me. I’m not fucking stupid. But, yeah, go ahead. Do what you gotta do.”

  That’s it. This was the last time she was ever going to insult me, the last time I was going to deal with this bullshit from her.

  I pulled out my phone and started searching for our local police precinct’s non-emergency line.

  She glanced over at me. “What are you doing?” she asked, trying to still sound casual.

  “I’m calling the cops.”

  “Pfft. All right, sure,” she said, as if she didn’t believe I possibly could be doing that. But I could hear in her voice that she was getting a little nervous. And when I put the phone to my ear, the anxiety on her face only increased.

  “Hello, Jenning Police Department, how many I direct your call?” a woman answered.

  “Hello, yes, I’m calling because my now ex-girlfriend is refusing to leave the premises,” I told the operator on the phone.

  Before she even had time to answer me, Sarah was on her feet, cussing at me.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you dumb bitch. Trying to call the cops on me, fucking ridiculous.”

  “Oh, I think it’s okay, actually, she seems to be leaving,” I told the operator.

  “Would you like me to stay on the line as she leaves?” she asked. “Is there any chance of her becoming violent or aggressive?”

  “No, I think it’ll be fine, but don’t worry, I won’t hesitate to call back if anything happens.”

  “All right, ma’am, we’ll be here if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, goodbye,” I hung up, staring at Sarah coldly.

  “I can’t believe you’d seriously call the cops on me,” she said hotly. “You are un-fucking-believable.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m unbelievable, and you’re a goddamn saint. Just get the hell out of my house, or I’ll tell them you’re no longer being compliant.”

  “Fine, fucking fine, but this isn’t over, you know.”

  “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snapped.

  “It means this isn’t over, you and me. You’re going to come crawling back to me, trust me. In a week, you’re going to miss me so much, you’ll be pleading with me to come back to you. And I’m not fucking going to. I’ll be out of your fucking life for good. I’ll always remember that you were willing to call the cops on me.”

  “Oh, no!” I responded sarcastically. “How ever will I survive?”

  She looked shocked, once again. She wasn’t used to me standing up to her. “Fuck you, Liz. Seriously, fuck you.”

  I sat back down on the couch. “Don’t
let the door hit you on your way out,” I said, as I took the remote and changed the channel. The last thing I could do that I knew would bug the shit out of her.

  She left in a huff, but I couldn’t care less. I was just happy to see her walk out the door.

  I thought, maybe once she did, I might be a little upset, and, in a way, I kind of was. But not because I was losing her, mostly because I had another failed relationship under my belt as I was entering my late-twenties.

  But, mostly, I felt incredibly free. I had wanted to do this for a long time, and I no longer cared that I was dumping her sorry ass right before the holidays. It was her problem now. I don’t know why I made her problem my problems when she had never done the same. She had never cared about anything that was going on in my life, not for a second.

  So, now I no longer cared, either. And, you know what? It felt pretty damn good.

  Still, I didn’t want to sit in this house all weekend, now that we were no longer together. I know myself, and I have a tendency to obsess over things, and, honestly, I wouldn’t put it past Sarah to show up again at some point. Either to beg me to get back together with her or just harass me out of spite, I’m honestly not sure which she’d do.

  Regardless, I didn’t need to be here if and when she arrives. I really needed to do something this weekend, get out of the house, do something to avoid thinking and obsessing about all this.

  I didn’t have too many close friends, but one person came to mind. One of my best friends since middle school, Jean. I knew, if she was free, she wouldn’t hesitate to hang out with me. I immediately called her up.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Jean, hey, it’s me. I, uh...” I didn’t know where to start. Did I just ask her to hang out? Confess to her that I was going through a break-up with Sarah? I’d always been pretty awkward on the phone, but especially so at times like these.