“It’s hash for breakfast because we’re working with what we have. If you want to run out to the chicken house and gather up some eggs and go out to the smokehouse and bring in a slab of bacon, I’ll be glad to make a traditional breakfast.” She tried to lighten the heavy mood in the room.

He just shrugged and turned to stare out the window.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Thanks for making breakfast.”

“Think they might rescue us today?” she asked as she filled her plate.

“Nope. All that cracking noise we’re hearing is more limbs breaking from trees. They’ll be down everywhere, blocking the roads and probably even the lane from the road up to this place,” he answered, but he didn’t turn around. “No coffee this morning?”

“If you can stand to drink it, you can make it. I can’t bear the thought of swallowing any more of that stuff.” She took a bite. “This hash needs some onion and Worcestershire sauce.”

Cody went to the workbench, picked up a plate, and filled it with the meat-and-potato mixture. He took his first bite and said, “I miss salt and pepper.”

“Me too, and you’re going to miss potatoes after this meal,” Stevie said. “I used the last of them, and there’s only one package of meat left in the refrigerator, so we’ll be trying to figure out how to use canned tuna and chicken. What’s in the fridge is unmarked, so I have no idea what it is. We’re down to six cans of beans. What’s the first thing you’re going to eat when we get rescued?”

“Food is food,” he muttered.

“Who pissed in your cereal this morning? I know you were having a nightmare when you woke up. It might help to talk about it rather than ignoring what happened,” she said. “If you’ll remember, it helped me to talk about my mother, and I’m all ears if you want to tell me what’s going on in your head or in your nightmares.”

“Just leave me alone,” he said.

Stevie recognized his expression as the same, rather cold one she had seen when he broke up with her. At the time it was devastating, but now she wondered just exactly what Cody was hiding.

“Talking about it won’t help,” he grumbled.

“Coming from the man who told me something different about my grief for my mother,” Stevie said.

“That’s different.” He cleaned off his food, washed the dish and fork out in the bathroom sink, and set it back on the worktable.

Leave him alone, Stevie warned herself, but she just couldn’t do it.