Chapter Four: A Quiet Morning Before the Storm
The kitchen smelled different that morning.
Not the usual stale coffee and reheated leftovers that had become routine in the Gilbert house over the past three months, but something warmer—oil sizzling softly in a pan, garlic and onions blooming into the air, the faint sweetness of bread toasting.
Jeremy stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, posture relaxed.
If someone had walked in right then, they wouldn't have recognized him.
He moved with quiet confidence, knife tapping rhythmically against the cutting board as he diced vegetables with practiced ease. Every motion was efficient, deliberate—muscle memory that hadn't existed yesterday.
Worth every point, he thought calmly.
The system had been blunt when he exchanged the points.
> Cooking Proficiency – Intermediate
Knowledge of techniques, seasoning balance, timing, and presentation.
Includes practical muscle memory.
No euphoria. No mental override.
Just… skill.
Jeremy adjusted the heat, then reached for a small vial tucked discreetly beside the spice rack.
Liquid vervain.
Clear. Almost odorless.
He hesitated for half a second.
Does it affect taste? he wondered.
The system answered immediately, its tone neutral.
> Liquid vervain has a naturally bitter undertone
When diluted and combined with fats, aromatics, or acidic components, the bitterness becomes negligible to humans.
Effectiveness remains intact.
Good.
Jeremy added a few drops into the simmering sauce, stirring slowly. Butter, herbs, citrus zest—he'd layered the flavors carefully. Whatever faint bitterness remained would pass as complexity, not poison.
Insurance and protection, he thought. Nothing more.
He needss to protect Elena and Jenna from compulsion.
Against what was coming.
He plated the food neatly, wiping the edges clean before covering everything to keep it warm.
That was when he heard footsteps.
"Jeremy?"
Aunt Jenna stood in the doorway, hair still slightly damp from the shower, oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder. She froze when she took in the scene.
Jeremy… cooking.
Not hovering awkwardly. Not burning something out of desperation.
Actually cooking.
"Uh," she said, blinking. "Am I still asleep?"
Jeremy glanced up and he froze, then he qsmiled faintly. "Morning."
She stepped further into the kitchen, eyes darting from the stove to the plated food.
"You're… okay?" she asked carefully. "You're not—"
"High?" he finished calmly.
Jenna winced. "I wasn't going to say it like that."
"But you were thinking it," he replied without malice.
She studied his face. Clear eyes. Steady hands. No jittering. No defensive edge.
"I made breakfast," he said simply. "Thought we could eat together."
Jenna hesitated, then laughed softly. "Since when do you cook?"
"Since today."
That earned him a look. Half suspicious, half hopeful.
She moved closer, curiosity winning. "What is it?"
"Try it."
He handed her a fork.
Jenna took a cautious bite.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh."
Jeremy leaned back against the counter, watching quietly.
"Oh wow," she corrected. "Jeremy, this is—this is really good."
"Yeah?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "Since when can you do this?"
He shrugged. "Guess I just never tried."
That answer hit harder than he intended.
Jenna's expression softened, guilt flickering behind her smile. "I'm really glad you did."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Jenna shook herself. "Okay. Elena's still upstairs. I'll wake her."
"I'll do it," Jeremy said. "She'll listen to me faster."
Jenna raised an eyebrow. "Confident, aren't we?"
Jeremy smirked slightly. "She always does."
As he went upstairs Jenna thought occupied his mind.
Jenna Sommers was beautiful in a way that crept up on you when you weren't looking for it.
Jeremy noticed it in fragments first.
The curve of her smile when she laughed—easy, genuine, a little self-conscious, as if she still hadn't realized how disarming it was. The way loose strands of her light brown hair slipped free when she moved, catching the morning light and framing her face softly. She didn't style herself carefully or try to impress anyone; that was part of it. Her beauty wasn't sharp or commanding—it was warm, human, real.
What truly stunned him was her eyes.
They carried a quiet kindness, mixed with uncertainty and responsibility she hadn't asked for. Jenna looked like someone trying her best in a role she'd been thrown into too early—guardian, parent, anchor—yet still holding onto the softness of someone who hadn't hardened yet. That vulnerability made her striking in a way no polished confidence ever could.
Jeremy found himself pausing mid-thought when she stood in the kitchen that morning, sunlight brushing over her profile. The oversized sweater slipped slightly off her shoulder, revealing smooth skin, unguarded and natural. She wasn't trying to be attractive. She just was.
Damn… he thought, caught off guard.
In his previous life, he would've overlooked a woman like her—or categorized her too quickly. Here, standing only a few steps away, he felt something different. Not lust. Not infatuation.
Appreciation.
Presence.
And the desire to protect her.
Jenna had a calming gravity to her. The kind that made him lower his guard without realizing it. The kind that made him want to do better—not for praise, but because disappointing her felt unthinkable.
When she smiled at him after tasting the food, eyes lighting up in genuine surprise and pride, Jeremy felt it hit him fully.
She's dangerous, he realized calmly. Not because she's manipulative. Because she's sincere.
And sincerity, in a world like this, was rare.
For a brief moment, Jeremy had to look away—not because she intimidated him, but because he understood something important:
Jenna wasn't just attractive.
She was the kind of woman people leaned on.
The kind people protected.
The kind people fell for without meaning to.
And that realization lingered with him long after she turned back to the stove, unaware of the quiet storm she'd just stirred.
....
Upstairs, Elena sat cross-legged on her bed, pen moving slowly across the page.
Dear Diary…
She paused, staring at the words.
Some days, writing helped. Other days, it just reminded her of everything she'd lost.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Elena," Jeremy's voice called. "You alive?"
She rolled her eyes. "Barely."
He opened the door without waiting for permission, leaning against the frame. "You're missing breakfast."
She glanced up, ready to retort—and froze.
Something was… different.
Not dramatic. Not obvious.
But Jeremy stood straighter. His expression was calm, grounded. There was an ease to him she didn't remember seeing before.
"…You made breakfast?" she asked slowly.
"Don't sound so shocked," he said lightly. "It hurts."
"You don't cook."
"I do now."
She stared a second longer than necessary.
He noticed.
Smiled.
"What?" he asked. "Diary say something interesting?"
Elena flushed instantly. "Jeremy."
"What?" he pressed innocently. "Let me guess—'Another day without Mom and Dad.'"
"Get out," she snapped, throwing a pillow at him.
He caught it easily.
"Come eat," he said, tone gentler now. "Jenna liked it."
That surprised her more than anything.
She stood, smoothing her hair as she followed him downstairs. She was acutely aware of the way he walked beside her—unhurried, confident. Not trailing behind like he used to.
When they reached the table, Jenna was already seated.
"This was all Jeremy," Jenna announced proudly.
Elena sat, still suspicious.
She took a bite.
Then another.
"…Okay," she admitted. "This is really good."
Jeremy poured drinks, taking his seat without ceremony. "Told you."
They ate together.
Talked.
Not about grief. Not about school drama.
Just… normal things.
Jenna laughed more than she had in weeks.
Elena relaxed, shoulders easing, her smile lingering longer than usual.
Jeremy watched it all quietly.
This is what stability feels like, he thought.
The front door opened.
Footsteps.
"Smells like someone finally learned to use the kitchen."
John Gilbert stepped inside, jacket slung over his shoulder.
The room fell silent.
Jeremy looked up slowly.
Uncle John met his gaze.
Something unreadable passed between them.
"Well," John said after a moment. "Looks like I came at a good time."
Jeremy frowned.
"No," he said calmly. "You didn't."