Chapter 57: Domestic Bliss... Kind Of
The Hummer’s doors slammed shut again ten minutes later.
Sera watched from the doorway as Lachlan popped the back open and hauled out a black go bag slung over one shoulder. It was dense. Heavy enough to pull against his frame, but he carried it like it weighed nothing. His boots thudded softly against the porch as he re-entered the cabin, the wind behind him bringing a trace of smoke and cold lake air.
He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even ask if it was okay to bring his gear inside. Of course he didn’t. People like Lachlan didn’t ask—they assessed, acted, and waited to see if they were stopped.
But Sera didn’t stop him.
She leaned against the wall and nodded once toward the hallway. "Shower’s yours. Hot water’s still running. I turned the tank on last week."
Lachlan tilted his head in thanks and moved past her, the strap of the go bag creaking slightly over his shoulder. He moved like someone who’d lived in bunkers before. His spatial awareness wasn’t a performance. He kept his back to the wall as he turned corners, eyes skimming doors and windows.
She respected that.
The bathroom door closed behind him.
A second later, the water kicked on—sharp and rhythmic, like rain on metal.
Sera stayed where she was, her arms folded in front of her. Her eyes drifted to the fog gathering on the high windows. The scent of his body wash was faint but clean—some charcoal-cedar mix that didn’t set off her senses.
That mattered more than it should have.
She moved into the kitchen and pulled open the pantry doors. The shelves were neat, labeled, dated. Jars lined the top row, stacked over vacuum-sealed bags and boxed staples. It had taken her months to build up the rotation. Every time there was a sale, every time someone whispered about shortages or delays, she listened.
Not because she was paranoid.
Because she was smart.
The creature settled beneath her ribs, lulled by the familiar order of the place. It knew this was home. Safe. Comfortable.
The bathroom door opened just as she was pulling a pot down from the rack.
Lachlan padded in barefoot, a towel slung around his neck and his hair still damp. His long-sleeved black shirt clung to him like it had been pulled from the bottom of his bag, slightly wrinkled but clean. The grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, loose and soft-looking in a way that shouldn’t have caught her attention—but did.
He was always handsome.
But clean?
That was dangerous.
Sera turned her attention back to the stove.
"I’ll go next," Noah muttered, already moving. He gave her a half-second glance, like he expected her to stop him. Like he wanted her to say something.
She didn’t.
Just kept her back to him and waved a hand.
He left without slamming the door, which was an improvement.
Once he was gone, the silence returned. Not complete. Not sterile. But warm and still, like someone had pulled a blanket over the whole room.
Lachlan helped without asking. He rolled up his sleeves and set a cutting board on the counter beside her, peeling a few carrots she passed his way. He worked with ease, quiet but not hesitant.
"You really keep all this stocked?" he asked, his voice softer than before. "How much food do you have in here?"
"Enough," she said.
"For?"
"Me. Not two extras."
He chuckled. "Guess we’re lucky you’re flexible."
"I’m not." She opened a drawer and pulled out a packet of vacuum-sealed mushrooms. "But I’m not wasteful either. Tomorrow we’ll go back to the city and grab more. Pantry staples, fuel tabs, medical. Whatever hasn’t already been looted."
He gave her a glance. "Back to the city? Isn’t that risky?"
"Everything’s risky now." She glanced toward the dark window. "But the horde’s already moved through. If we go early, stay low, and move fast—we’ll be fine."
"You always this prepared?"
"I planned to be alone. This was built for that."
He raised a brow. "Even the throw pillows?"
She gave him a sidelong look. "I happen to like them. They make me happy, and at the end of the world, I deserve to be happy."
Lachlan nodded, more serious now. "Smart."
She didn’t answer.
They cooked in silence for a few minutes, the smell of garlic and dried thyme rising with the steam from the pot. She added a handful of lentils, some bone broth she’d pressure-canned last month, and a splash of vinegar to cut the starch.
"Smells like you’ve done this before," he murmured.
"I have."
Lachlan lit a candle from the counter—an old one, nearly spent, with a label that read ’Spiced Amber and Vanilla’. The small flame flickered, casting shadows over the cabin walls and tinting the corners of the kitchen in gold.
Sera stirred the pot again, breathing in the warmth, the steam, the closeness.
For a moment—just a moment—it felt like something real.
Like something normal.
Until the bathroom door opened.
And Noah walked in, drying his hair with a towel, dressed in one of Lachlan’s old hoodies and a smug expression.
He paused when he saw them. Then smirked.
"Smells good," he said. "Guess being a crazy prepper pays off once in every hundred years."
The creature stirred, but Sera didn’t.
She just reached for the bowls and said nothing.
The moment was over.
She went through the drawers, taking out the cutlery needed for everyone. Sera didn’t need help setting the table, but Lachlan did it anyway.
He moved slowly, deliberately, placing mismatched ceramic bowls at each seat without asking where anything was. His awareness impressed her—he didn’t open the wrong drawer, didn’t reach for the wrong shelf. Like he’d memorized the layout in seconds. Like he’d already made a map in his mind.
She hated how much she noticed that.
"Is this where you grew up?" he asked as he filled three glasses with clean water from the filtered tap.
Sera shook her head. "No."
"You built it?"
"Nope," she smiled. "I bought it off a guy this time last year. It’s been my sanctuary ever since."
He hummed thoughtfully, running a thumb along the rim of the glass. "It suits you."
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything at all.
Noah flopped into the chair across from hers, pulling a spoon toward him. "So. We’re really going back tomorrow?"
Sera didn’t look at him. "Yes."
"And if there are more of those things?"
"Then we don’t bring them back here."
Noah rolled his eyes, but Lachlan cut him off with a single glance.
Sera stirred the pot once more and ladled out thick portions into two of the bowls. The food wasn’t fancy, but it was hot. Real. Grounded.
Just like the cabin.
Just like the version of herself she pretended to be. She even gave herself a bowl but barely put in even a quarter of a cup. She had to be normal.
At least until morning.