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Careful not to trip over anything, Mack tugged the bathrobe tighter and swallowed the urge to tidy the space as she explored. Dozens of framed photos lined the fireplace mantel, and she skipped her finger across the edge.

“Is this you and Ben at prom?” The fire flickered against the silver frame holding a photo of Charlie in a teal ball gown, her arm looped through a tuxedoed Ben’s arm.

“Yep,” Charlie said as she pulled out mugs from the cupboard. “I still have the dress. I’ve worn it for Halloween a few times, but between you and me, I’d wear it on a random Tuesday if the tulle wasn’t so itchy.”

Prom. Yet another thing that Mack sacrificed during her adolescence in her quest for quiet. Regret pinpricked her. What would her life have looked like had she participated in these events? If she were social? A sliver of a void existed in her with her inability to connect with humans on a fundamental level. It made her fidget, touch her hair, scratch her skin, and she was always convinced she had food in her teeth.

Bottom line. Humans were too much effort. Being around others shrunk on the priority scale until it was nil.

“It’s strange to see your bare skin from when you were younger.” Mack placed the frame back on the mantel. When Charlie scrunched her face, Mack pointed to her forearm. “No ink.”

“Ah.” The kettle screeched. Charlie plopped in the tea bags, then handed Mack theMerry effin’ XXXmasmug. “Gift from Ben last year. I don’t even begin to pretend to understand the inner workings of his twisted brain.”

Mack took a tentative sip of the steaming honey mint tea and leaned against the opposite counter from Charlie. The radiance from the lamps offset the darkness of the afternoon sky, and Mack’s insides heated with the liquid.

“Tattoos are a bit of an obsession.” Charlie rotated her arm. “Started at eighteen and never quit.”

Mack examined the tattoos, a collage of colorful flowers and butterflies. “Why do you like them so much?”

Charlie stared at her fingers for several long moments. “I think it’s because every piece captures something important in my life at that time. But… it’s more than that. They make me strong. Or at least, they make me think I’m strong. With every tattoo, it’s like I’m shielding myself.” She blew into her cup and took a short sip. “I hate conflict. I have this idea if people see my… armor… they’re less likely to mess with me. Tattoos are this, I guess, dichotomy. That’s the word, right? It’s like,Look at me!But also,I’m covering myself up so you can’t see all of me.”

Charlie’s face flashed pink and then turned white when she snapped her mouth shut. “That probably doesn’t even make sense.” She let out a deflecting chuckle.

Mack chewed on the information. She wrote a scene the other day about Shelby having a hidden dragon tattoo on her inner thigh. She’d focused on Shelby’s physical strength to engrave herself in such a painful area, but she hadn’t tapped into the emotional reasons behind the branding.

The craving for attention while covering yourself made perfect sense. Lots of people probably fought with those demons, the fear of being recognized coupled with the fear of being a no one. But why did Charlie specifically feel this way? She’d shared tidbits of her past, but it was like she was rattling off a Wikipedia page—impersonal and distant.

Mack needed more. But now it was less about the book, and more about a genuine curiosity. She cupped her hands around the mug, the heat transferring to her palms. “I know Seattle gets a lot of rain, but this is unusual, right?” she asked, even though she wanted to bombard her with questions: Why does she hide behind body art? Why does she smile when she looks like she wants to cry? Why do the flickering lights against her red hair make it seem like she’s a fire goddess?

“Yeah, but normally it’s just mist.” Charlie hooked her finger around the curtain behind the sink and peeked outside. “I don’t even own an umbrella.”

Lightning cracked. Charlie turned pale and recoiled.

Mack was torn between wanting to scoop Charlie into her arms and memorizing what she saw for her book: tense shoulders. White knuckles. A protruding neck vein. Eyebrows strung together like a drawbridge.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Mack put a reassuring hand on Charlie’s shoulder, which seemed to soften from the touch. Mack couldn’t remember ever being scared like this, minus when she was eleven and watchedThe Exorcistafter her babysitter fell asleep. Charlie’s face looked like something was about to possess her body and force out green demon projectile vomit.

“You know…” Mack jutted her head toward the middle of the room. “I’ve never actually been in a hammock before.”

Charlie’s eyebrows lifted. “Really? Never? You’ve never camped?”

“Nah. I feel like that’s a Seattle thing. Or maybe a Pacific Northwest thing. In the city, there’s not a lot of room to keep camping gear ’cause the apartments are so tiny.”

“You gotta do it. Once you’ve properly shifted your weight, you’ll feel like you’re floating.” Charlie placed her mug on the side table. She held out a hand to take Mack’s mug, then motioned her to follow. “Sit your butt in the middle so it doesn’t flip.”

The hammock wobbled as Mack lowered herself. The fabric was unsteady and kind of awful until it wasn’t. The moment her body hit the right spot, she sunk into the material.

“Wait until you get the full effect. It’s pretty cool. One sec.” The rain pelted against the window as Charlie dashed around the room and turned off the lights.

Charlie was not wrong. Mack was in the middle of a sparkling, warm, pixie-dusted house. Glowing stars filled the ceiling. White strung lights filled the room. Plants she had barely noticed before convinced her she was in a forest.

“Do you get dizzy?” Charlie placed her hands on the outside of the hammock.

“Like in general? No.”

Charlie eased Mack into a swinging motion.Heaven.Everything in Mack’s body faded. She wasn’t a writer under a furious deadline. She wasn’t battling imposter syndrome. She was just swinging, her eyes drooping, her muscles at ease.

A loud crack of thunder rattled the sky. Charlie dropped her hands from the hammock, ripped a pillow from the couch, and hugged it.