Last Light by Claire Kent

Author:Claire Kent [Kent, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: post apocalyptic romance, dystopian romance
Publisher: Claire Kent
Published: 2019-11-12T18:30:00+00:00

I DO GET MORE EXCITED.

We find a large cellar beneath the house, stocked full of food. Canned food. Dehydrated food. Years’ worth of the prepper food you used to be able to order online.

I won’t let Travis go down the ladder because of his ankle, but I bring up a couple of cans of beef stew, a sealed pack of crackers that have a shelf life of twenty-five years, a pack of brownie mix (just add water), and a bottle of beer.

I just bring up one bottle since I’m not sure I’ll even like it.

“Travis!” I glare at him as I climb up to discover him standing in the kitchen, opening cabinets. “You need to sit down and elevate your ankle.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. It’s swelling like crazy.”

“An hour or so ain’t gonna make a difference. I’ll rest it after we eat and shower.”

I start to object but give up. Travis has on his stubborn face.

“You go take your shower first,” he says. “I’ll fix us supper, and then I’ll take my shower after. We’ll need time for the water to heat up again between showers.”

I hesitate, but he’s already opening one of the cans.

He’s been grumpy today and I still have cramps, so I figure I deserve to shower first.

The water is plenty warm but not scalding hot. I don’t care. It feels so good I stand under the spray and shake with emotion.

It’s been years since I had a hot shower.

I wash my hair and scrub down my body and then stand there and enjoy it.

If I had a razor, I could even shave. I haven’t shaved since the power plant fell. Most women I know don’t either. It’s one of the luxuries that we lost with everything else.

I decide I don’t really care that much.

Having smooth legs and bare underarms was nice, but shaving was always a pain.

Travis doesn’t seem to mind the hair. He seems to like my body just fine as it is.

I don’t have a razor anyway, unless I want to try to use Travis’s straight-edge one.

I really don’t want to do that.

Mostly I’m just thrilled to feel genuinely clean.

When the water gets cooler, I turn it off and get out. I wrap up in one of the towels folded on a shelf. All my clothes are dirty, and I don’t want to put them on. So I go to look in the closet of the bedroom and find a big plaid cotton shirt worn soft from age. I button it up and glance down at myself.

It almost reaches my knees. All I need to do is roll up the sleeves and I’ll be fine in it.

I comb out my hair and leave it loose and wet as I go find Travis in the kitchen. He’s propping himself against the counter, giving the pot of stew a slow stir on the small stove.

“Smells good!”

“Tastes good too.” He turns to look at me and grows still. Something heats up in his eyes.

I glance down at myself self-consciously.

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