Page 69 of Sick(ness)

Jay grinned, passing her a mug. “Sure do. Started stockpiling supplies when things started getting weird — right before the news went dark. Folks were too busy panic-buying toilet paper to think about the good stuff.” He nodded toward a shelf lined with jars, cans, and bags.

He handed her a tin of sugar, and Addy nearly gasped. “You have sugar too?”

“Had some,” Jay said with a smirk. “Might’ve robbed the grocery’s baking aisle blind while I was at it. Seems like my paranoia finally came in handy.”

She laughed softly, the sound catching both men off guard. “You’re my new favorite person.”

Jay tipped his mug toward her. “That’s the caffeine talking, but I’ll take it.”

Sawyer stood a few feet back, leaning against the wall. He accepted a cup when Jay offered it but didn’t drink right away. He studied Jay instead: the easy posture, the calm smile. The man looked like someone who’d accepted the end of the world and found a way to live with it.

Jay caught the look and chuckled quietly. “Relax, soldier. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t waste my coffee on you.”

Sawyer’s eyebrow lifted, but his lips twitched into something almost like a smile. “You clocked me that easily?”

Jay shrugged. “The stance. The haircut that still wants to be regulation. The way you scanned every window before you sat down.”

Addy sipped her coffee, hiding her grin behind the rim of the mug. “He’s got you pegged.”

Sawyer exhaled through his nose, amused despite himself. “Maybe so.” He took a sip, the heat biting his tongue. “This is… good.”

“Best thing left in the world, if you ask me,” Jay said.

The three of them sat for a while, the silence companionable, the snow whispering softly outside the windows.

Sawyer didn’t relax completely. But as he watched Addy smiling into her mug, warmth spreading across her face, a thought settled deep in his chest.

* * *

Jay moved easily around the small kitchen, the air soon filling with the smells of cooking, something Addy hadn’t realized she’d missed so much it hurt. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a pot of stew simmering on the stove, thick with potatoes, canned beef, and carrots he’d somehow managed to keep from spoiling. Still, to Addy, it smelled like comfort itself.

“Got a good stock pile going,” Jay said, stirring the pot. He lifted the lid and leaned back as a puff of steam escaped, fragrant and rich. “Canned stock, dried herbs, and a few odds and ends I had tucked away. Not bad for the end of the world.”

Addy smiled faintly, watching him ladle portions into three chipped bowls. “You’re full of surprises, Jay.”

He handed her one with a spoon already in it. “You stick around long enough, you’ll see I’m mostly just practical.”

They gathered around the table, Addy and Sawyer sitting side by side, Jay across from them. The fire crackled softly, the light catching the faint smile on Addy’s face as she took her first bite.

“Oh my god,” she mumbled through a mouthful. “That’s… so good.”

Jay laughed quietly. “It’s edible. That’s all I aim for these days.”

Sawyer took a slow bite, his gaze thoughtful. “It’s good,” he admitted. “You cook like a man who planned to be on his own for a while.”

Jay’s smile faded at the edges, his eyes growing distant. “I cleaned out my savings account back in June. Three shopping carts at the warehouse store. The clerk laughed, asking if I was planning for doomsday.” He traced a finger along a crack in the wooden table. “Every night on the news, they kept saying ‘contained’ and ‘isolated cases’ while the hospital parking lots filled up. By the time the dead outnumbered the living, I already had this place stocked to the rafters.”

Addy looked up. “So you were already preparing before it got bad?”

“Yeah,” Jay said, his tone casual but not boastful. “I had this gut feeling. Then, when the first lockdowns hit, I cleaned out my shop and filled this place up. Between the generator and the solar panels, I’m sitting better than most.”

Sawyer nodded slowly. “You thought ahead. That’s rare.”

“Luck,” Jay said with a shrug. “Or all those sideways glances from neighbors calling me crazy weren’t so wrong after all.”

When they finished eating, Jay carried the bowls to the sink and began hand-pumping water to rinse them. “I’ll heat some water for the showers after this,” he said over his shoulder. “You can go first, Addy. Takes about an hour for the tank to warm up, so don’t expect luxury, but it’s hot.”

Addy couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “A hot shower and real food on the same night? I might actually cry.”