So I Married A Rockstar - Season 2

Ch. 6: Survivalist Stas

There was no sign of Finn when I went inside, but the key was still in the lock, so I turned it then put it on the kitchen counter. The fire in the stove was dying down, but the living room was still warm – almost too warm after hours in the freezing cold. I stripped down to jeans and a T-shirt, and settled on the sofa to check the news. Maybe there'd be something more positive about the weather.

Nope.

Apparently more snow would arrive tonight. In some parts of the country, it was already nearly four foot deep. I skimmed the fun social media posts about people building snowmen in the streets – including an epic creation by one of my best friends, Lily – walking on frozen lakes, starting snowball fights with their neighbours. Then there were the serious posts about water pipes freezing, farms losing livestock, people in rural communities worrying how they'd get supplies, and a jolt of fear shot through me.

Finn and I were at the top of a big fucking hill – it'd be a pain in the ass to get supplies at the best of times, but in these conditions, we didn't stand a chance. What happened if we ran out?

As if he knew I was thinking about him, Finn came into the room, and I noticed he walked with a heavier tread than normal, as if he was trying to avoid creeping up on me.

"Good walk?" he said.

"Yeah."

"You were gone a long time," he noted.

It felt a bit shitty to say that I felt cooped up in his mansion, so I shrugged and smiled.

Finn opened the stove, and banked up the fire with small logs from a nearby basket. He stirred the embers with an iron poker, helping the flames catch onto the new wood, and I noticed his fingers tapping the handle in a discordant yet insistent rhythm.

What did he do with himself all day? Was he writing music somewhere? Or passing the time some other way? Exploring Finn Donovan's hobbies was another potential article.

"You okay with that leftover pasta sauce for dinner?" Finn asked, closing the stove.

"Yeah, but I'm a bit worried."

He brushed sawdust from his hands. "About what?"

"We're pretty cut off out here. What happens if we run out of food?"

"We won't."

"How do you know though?" I asked. "What if we really are stuck here for months?"

"We still won't run out of food."

"Why, have you got some survivalist stash hidden somewhere?" I said.

Finn stared at me for a long moment, his eyes slightly narrowed, like he was thinking something over, then he gave a small nod. "Come with me."

He led me out of the living room, and to the second door on the right in the hallway. "I promise you, running out of food won't be a problem," he said, opening the door and ushering me inside.

"Whoa," I said softly.

Shelves lined the walls on either side, packed with nonperishable foodstuffs – pasta and rice, tinned beans and vegetables, powdered milk, peanut butter, crisps and crackers, dried fruit, I couldn't take it all in.

Directly opposite me was a massive chest freezer, and when Finn opened the lid, I was confronted with frozen fruit and veg, fish and meat, stacks of ice cream tubs.

I'd been kidding about the survivalist thing, but maybe I'd hit the nail on the head. Another article in the making?

"Why do you have all of this?" I said.