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Mack’s heart thumped.

This situation shouldn’t be that stressful. They were friends, right? She never really had a friend besides Viviane. Although she was pretty sure friends didn’t go to bed thinking of their friend’s mouth on theirs. Or wondered what their friend’s body pressed against them would feel like. Friends shouldn’t be trying to recreate the smell and searching through Amazon for vanilla-scented lotion to rub against their pillow.

Mack cleared her throat.Just do it. Stop overthinking. Stop swallowing back a cough. This was a friendly gesture, nothing more. She patted the side of the hammock.

“I think you should join me.”

TWELVE

CHARLIE’S DRINK SPECIAL: COZY COMFORT SPICED CHAI

Cozied up with Mack in the hammock sounded like a chicken soup comfort snuggle laced with glass shards. Lying in a hammock with another woman wasclose.Bodies-touching close.Jess-touching close.

The angry rain whipped against the windows. Its shrieking was like an air demon ready to drag her into the dark underworld. Charlie grabbed a blanket and climbed in.

“Whoa, holy sh—nope, I got this.” Mack laughed and wiggled into the corner. “Yep, nope, definitely don’t got this.” The hammock twisted. Clunky arms and legs tangled and flailed until Mack planted her palm on the ground to steady the fabric.

Charlie’s butt was in Mack’s stomach. She scooted lower and was hyperaware of the intimate places that touched, and she debated how to defuse the seventh-grade-dance level of awkwardness. “We callin’ dibs on who’s little spoon or big spoon?”

To maintain some semblance of balance, Charlie firmed her core, flipped over, and shoved herself into the corner of the hammock. They mirrored each other, lying on their side with an arm underneath their cheek. Mint tea mixed with Mack’s fruit and sea salt scent, and Charlie tried to ignore the dreamy scent.

“This okay?” Mack’s voice was as gentle as her softened expression portrayed.

Charlie nodded and picked at her flannel pajamas. It shouldn’t feel this good, this quick. It shouldn’t remind her of the beginning when she and Jess promised to love each other forever. Or make her think of when they tattooed each other’s zodiac signs and their wedding date on their backs during their honeymoon and cried as they admired their love branding.

Jess fed the soul of an orphaned child. She played the role of protector, confidant, lover, friend, and family. Charlie had given Jess her heart. And then she’d left. Just like her mom. Just like her dad. And now, lying here calmly with Mack—who Charlie had only known for two weeks—the comfortability was frightening. She couldn’t,she wouldn’t, fall into the seductive codependence trap. She’d never trust again like she had with Jess.

“It’s so stupid, being scared of the storm like this.” Damn her dad for leaving her so much as a kid. She hated that her deficient parental upbringing still affected her.

“It’s not stupid at all. We all have fears.”

A long time had passed since someone seemed genuinely interested in learning abouther. Not the shop. Not which coffee region was the best. Not which tourist places people should check out. But her.

And Charlie kind of loved it.

“Even you? You seem so tough.” Charlie grinned. “Like you’d kick a cabbie’s ass if they inched over the crosswalk.”

Mack angled her eyebrow. “Do I really give off that vibe?” A hint of defensiveness laced through Mack’s tone. “I’m scared of a ton of things.”

“Really, like what?”

Mack flicked her finger against her thigh. “Where do I start? Rats. Cockroaches. Birds. Wrinkles.”

“Birds? Wrinkles?” Charlie asked. “Like you bathe in hydrating cream?”

“No. I like things crisp. I am a serial ironer, and I’ll never apologize.” She smiled and looked down as she raveled a hammock thread tourniquet around her index finger and released. So many seconds passed that Charlie wasn’t sure if Mack was done speaking or just thinking.

Mack’s chest inflated when she took in a breath. “I’m scared of failure.”

Her voice was so quiet that Charlie wasn’t sure if she heard her right until the weight of the words hung heavy in the air. A lot of people feared failure. Charlie did, too, at some level. Her desk drawer was weighted with unpaid bills. The coffee shop was going underwater, and no amount of manifesting and rubbing her favorite rock at night could change that. She broke inside thinking about not seeing the mother-daughter duo, Amanda and Erica. Or not having Ben there all day. Or fist-pumping regulars. She’d be alone again. Abandoned.

Failure was a byproduct.

The twinkling light above Mack’s head held Charlie’s gaze as her throat constricted. “When I was younger, I was left alone a lot.” She usually kept her memories buried in a Death-Valley-level-of-deep grave. Her heart pounded with the admission. “One time, when I was eight or nine, my dad left to ‘see his friends.’ That’s what he’d called it when he’d go out. He’d put on the TV, give me some gross microwave dinner, and I’d sit on the couch and stare out the window until I fell asleep. But this particular night, it stormed so hard. When lightning hit a tree in our yard, it rattled everything like an earthquake. I was so young. I didn’t know if I should run out of the trailer or hide in the closet.” Her heart broke thinking of her tiny self in her nightgown, gripping her ratty teddy bear, praying that her dad would come home.

Mack’s forehead scrunched. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. You must’ve been so scared. What did you do?”

“I don’t even remember. But the next morning, he gave me his unlimited pancake and syrup apology and took me to get my first ‘coffee.’ It was probably a mocha or something, but I remember it being a glorious cup of sweet and bitter, and I was hooked immediately.” She didn’t know if her love of coffee was born that day from the effects of the caffeine and sugar or if it was because she saw the remorse and love in her father’s eyes during his blip of sobriety.