Chapter 9 Naomi
Chapter nine
Naomi
The hiss of the radiator is the first thing I hear.
The second is the wind pressing against the glass.
I don’t have to open my eyes to know we’re still buried.
My phone on the nightstand confirms it: 7:03 a.m., no signal. A whole stack of missed responsibilities waiting somewhere on the other side of this storm.
I slide out of bed, feeling warm floorboards under my feet. I smooth a hand over the gray sweatshirt and black leggings, drag my fingers through my hair, and check my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Good enough.
The hallway is quiet when I step out, aside from faint plumbing noises. As I get closer to the open living area, something else joins the list of sounds.
Sizzle.
Then my nostrils flare up, and I catch the scent of bacon, eggs… and coffee.
Thank god.
I follow the smell into the kitchen side of the living room.
Felix is at the stove, hip bumped against the counter, humming something off-key while he attacks a pan of scrambled eggs.
Liam sits at the island with a mug between his hands and a thick paperback propped open.
Silas stands near the wall of windows, one shoulder braced on the frame, staring out at the storm.
Felix looks back and sees me first. His smile hits full strength instantly. “Morning, New York. Slept well?”
"Better than expected, worse than I'd like," I say, surprising myself with how easy the words come out.
Silas glances over his shoulder, eyes flicking from my face down to the sweatshirt and leggings, then back up again. The corner of his mouth twitches.
“Nice downgrade from the power suit,” he says. “Mountain casual suits you.”
I decide, very consciously, not to take that bait. Instead, I grab a mug from the drying rack and pour coffee, then pause, scanning the counters.
Sugar. Where—
I apparently give off “lost in a kitchen” energy, because Liam says, without looking up from his book, “Cabinet above the toaster.”
I open it. Sugar, right where he said. I spoon in one scoop. Plop. Stir.
“Breakfast is served,” Felix announces. He kills the burner and starts dividing eggs between plates. There’s a plate of bacon already resting on the back of the stove, still glistening.
My stomach makes an undignified noise.
“Looks like we’re not going anywhere today,” Felix goes on, setting a plate in front of Liam and another at an empty stool. “Maybe not tomorrow either. So congratulations, Naomi, you’ve won an all-inclusive stay at Casa Puckers.”
“My phone briefly worked earlier,” Silas mutters. “Cell tower’s iced, main road’s blocked, and the town’s talking about keeping everything closed until the plows stop crying.”
Felix rolls his eyes. “Translation: we have nowhere to be. We might as well eat.”
He holds up a third plate. “Eggs?”
“Oh. Coffee’s fine, really.” My stomach growls again.
He laughs, setting the plate down. “Seems you gotta eat. Lawyer brain takes fuel. Sit.”
Liam glances at me over the rim of his mug with a quiet you might as well face.
I surrender and sit. “Thank you.”
I take a bite. The eggs are… decent. A little overcooked, but hot and salty and exactly what my body wants.
Silas pushes off the window frame and comes over, leaning a hip against the counter. “Enjoy,” he says, tone dry. “This is pretty much the extent of our supplies.”
“Hey,” Felix objects. “There's also pasta.”
“About that,” I say, setting my fork down for a second. “How much food do you actually have?”
Felix shrugs. “Uh… some stuff in the pantry, stuff in the freezer. I haven’t exactly done a head count.”
“Has anyone done a proper inventory?” I ask. “Or are we working off vibes?”
Silas lets out a short, bark-like laugh. “Shocking, the lawyer wants to take charge."
I do my best to ignore him. "What I mean is, do we have any idea about how long we can last?" I look at Felix, then Liam. "We should have an exact inventory of our provisions and a plan for rationing, just in case. And conserve power too. The chalet seems well-insulated, but this storm is severe."
Felix stops scrubbing. "Well, food-wise, we've got the main pantry and the freezer, but we don't have much since someone"—he looks at Silas, who just grunts—"didn’t do the grocery run when he was supposed to."
"The generator has enough fuel for three days if we run it efficiently," Liam adds, looking at me. "Less if we're careless with the lights and heat. Although, we do have firewood as well…"
Silas grunts again. He clearly hates that I'm taking charge. He's the pack leader, this is his territory, and I just stepped on it… but he can't argue with the initiative. "Felix, show her the pantry. I'm going to the rink."
"Actually, can we all do the inventory together?" I ask, sliding off the stool. "It's more efficient if we have a clear, shared understanding of our resources from the start."
His eyes narrow. I've just challenged him again, but I meet his gaze without flinching.
A tense second passes.
"Fine," Silas finally bites out. He yanks open a tall door by the fridge. "Pantry's here. Let's get your 'logistics' over with."