The ten minutes it takes for my phone to reach five percent are probably the slowest of my life so far. Each one is torture, my hands restless, my heart racing at at least a hundred and twenty beats per minute. I've been a lowkey anxious person ever since I turned eighteen and real life slapped me in the face, but this is something else. I think I might be having an actual panic attack: I'm hot and my chest hurts, such an acute pain that at first I think it's a heart attack, and my head throbs, my breaths short and shallow. I curl my hands into fists and try to fill my lungs; I take a counterintuitive sip of my latte and close my eyes, my knuckles kneading my temples.

My cell phone eventually comes to life. As it connects to the network, missed calls and voicemails and texts flood in. I bypass them all to call Mom for the first time in weeks, my hand trembling as I hold the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Mom? It's me."

"Charlie! Thank god." Her voice explodes out of the phone, loud enough to deafen. "Oh my god, you're okay. What the hell is going on, Charlie? I've spent half the morning on the phone with hotel staff and the police in Fisher. I told them they must be mistaken because you're in Austin, but then I spoke to Cole and Taelin and apparently you're not."

"No, I'm not. I'm in Fisher. Last minute vacation," I say, picking at the hem of my shorts. Mom is loud enough that people around me in the cafe can hear her through the phone and they're looking my way. "I'm sorry if you got scared — there was a storm and my hotel room kind of got ruined by a tree and my phone died and no-one could reach me so they called you but, yeah, I, uh, I never told you that I'm here."

"No, you didn't." Mom sighs. "You're okay, though, aren't you? You're not hurt?"

"I'm fine, I promise."

"Where were you, then? Whoever I spoke to said the hotel was evacuated at four thirty this morning and they couldn't find you."

"Remember Lou? From the cabin next door?"

"Of course."

"I had dinner with her and her friends last night, ended up staying over."

"Thank god for that. I need to send that woman flowers or cookies or something." Her laugh comes out strangled. It takes me a moment to realize she's crying. Oh god. I don't know what to do when people cry. Especially my mom. "You had me terrified. You know how awful it is to get a call from the police in another state about your daughter being missing in a storm?"

I pull one heel onto the chair and wrap my arm around my knee, leaning against the wall. "I'm so sorry, Mom."

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not blaming you. I'm just glad you're all right. God, Charlie, it's been one hell of a stressful morning. I was this close to driving to the airport and getting on the first flight to Boise."

"You probably would've ended up spending half the day in Denver." I try to make it come out lighthearted but it doesn't land. There's a long pause.

"What're you doing in Fisher, hon?" Mom's voice is soft and low. The one she uses when she's trying to coax the truth out of one of us. It does the trick. The whole story pours out of me as I chew my thumbnail and drink my coffee. I'm vulnerable right now, my emotions a raw layer above my skin, and I don't have the energy for subterfuge.

"Charlie, baby, I'm sorry if I haven't been clear with you — to be honest, there's still a lot of stuff I'm working on — but you are always welcome with me. I know it isn't home and I know you hate that I'm in Rapid City and everything's weird at the moment, but I have space for any of you who need to come be with me."

It's an odd relief to hear Mom's admission that things are weird at the moment. That she's got stuff to figure out too. I don't want to have to go to South Dakota but there is a sense of security in knowing that she would welcome me into her new home. Her new life.

We talk for several more minutes, until I feel less like a glass ball of anxiety on the cusp of shattering and Mom is reassured that I'm definitely okay, definitely not buried under hotel rubble, definitely considering coming to live with her. She puts my mind at ease when she asks what I've lost, what was in my room, and when I think it through, all I had in there was clothes and my charger. Everything else is in my car.

"Clothes can be replaced, honey. Don't worry about it. Listen, I'm going to send you some money. You don't need to stress. The hotel will reimburse you for the nights of your booking that they can't fulfill. Do you want me to book you a plane ticket? There's a flight at six p.m. from Boise, you could be here in Rapid City for ten."

I'm torn. I'm not sure how much of a choice I have but I don't want to leave Fisher so soon. Ashley and Connor will be here next week. I can't miss them. It's been way too long already and now we have a chance to hang out here again.

"No, it's okay," I say. "Thank you, though. I'll be all right."

"Charlie..."

"Maybe another day? I'm supposed to be here for two weeks."

"But you don't have anywhere to stay."

"The cop said the hotel will make alternative arrangements," I say. It's only partly a lie. He did say they'd try. He also said I probably won't get anything. But I can't leave now. I will find somewhere else. I'm only one person. There has to be a spare room somewhere else.

Except I was also the last person the hotel located. Bottom of the list.

"Honey, please—"

"I'll let you know what happens, okay?"

Mom sighs. I know that sigh so well. I can only picture her in the house I grew up in, sitting at the kitchen table with her phone clutched to her ear, her forehead resting in her palm, fingers scrunched in her hair, eyes closed. The face she makes when she knows she's fighting a losing battle and there's no point standing her ground. "Okay. If you're sure."

I'm not. "I am."

"Stay safe, hon."

"I love you," I blurt out. I haven't said it in a while. Everything's been so muddy and I haven't been able to sift through the shit to figure out my emotions and I haven't been nice. But I do love my mom.

I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, "I love you more, Charlie. And if you change your mind, let me know and I'll book your flight."

"Thanks, Mom."

She blows me a kiss. I hold the phone to my ear for a few seconds after the call ends. I lower it to the table, check the battery level. Still at five percent, even though it's plugged in, so I lock the screen and turn it face down. I fold my arms on the table top and clutch my elbows and lower my forehead, and I spend a couple minutes focusing on my lungs. I try the four seven eight method and square breathing and belly breathing but all it accomplishes is lightheadedness.

My phone is still buzzing away. My friends, probably, and my family. But I can't deal with them right now, even if only to reassure them that I'm okay. Mom will pass the message on to the family chat, I'm sure. I could fall asleep, overwhelmed by this morning, but I don't have a chance because I've only had my eyes closed for five minutes when I hear my name.

"Charlotte! There you are. I've been searching for you."

When I look up, Lou is on the other side of the table. She has changed since this morning; now she's in a rose pink maxi skirt and a cream fitted turtleneck, her glasses pink. I wonder how many pairs she owns, if she can match them to every outfit. She pulls out the chair and sits down, reaching across to wrap her hands around my wrists.

"You've been searching?"

"Okay, I went to the hotel and then I came straight here. Look at that, I already know how you think." She gives me a tilted smile. "Jules just texted me about the hotel and I know that's where you're staying so I wanted to check in with you, but I don't have your number."

"You saw the room with the tree in it?"

"What's left of it, yes," she says with a grimace.

"That was my room."

"Oh my god." Both hands cover her mouth, her eyes wide.

"A lovely cop made it pretty clear that I'd be dead if I'd been there last night." I inject false joviality into my voice. "So your dinner party gets even higher marks now."

Lou still looks shocked. Her hands slowly lower to the table. "I suppose it's a good thing you were too drunk for Jules to drive you back."

"Thank you, poorly measured vodka soda."

"What happens now?"

I lace my fingers together, eyes on my thumbs. "See if there's any space anywhere else. I spoke to my mom, too. She offered to fly me to Rapid City but, god, I really don't want to go there. A couple of my cousins are coming here next week and I don't want to miss them so I'll figure something out." I fill her in on what the cop said, scratching the back of my neck as my options tumble around in my head. I had my heart set on two weeks in Fisher and I can't bear to leave early. The sooner I'm out of here, the sooner I have to figure shit out real quick.

"Stay with me," Lou says with a shrug.

"What?"

"If you want to stay in Fisher, stay with me. I've got plenty of space and as much as I thought I'd bask in all the me-time with Issy at college, it's been nice having company."

"Are you serious?" I sit straighter, all my worries quiet for the moment.

"The spare room is all yours."

"Oh my god. Thank you. Are you really sure?"

Lou chuckles and waits until I meet her gaze. More blue than gray today. She smiles. A full smile, one I haven't seen much, though she still doesn't show her teeth. "I am one hundred percent sure, Charlotte. I'm not going to have you wandering around town searching for somewhere to take you in when I have a perfectly good spare room and I already know I enjoy your company."

I'm too overwhelmed for those last few words to do to me what they ordinarily would. My eyes well up. Lou scoots her chair back and comes round to my side, bending over me in a warm, perfumed hug. Her hair is in a scruffy bun that tickles my nose — the hug is a weird angle — and she doesn't let go after a few seconds so I don't either.

"Aside from the shock of all this, are you all right?" she asks, still holding me.

"I'm fine. Although I've lost all my clothes."

"You can wear whatever you want of mine, and the thrift stores here are excellent."

"Also I think I've had too much coffee so early in the day. I'm on the cusp of a major crash."

She laughs, her chest vibrating against mine, and pulls away at last to perch on the edge of the table, hands in her lap. "Do you want to come home and sleep it off?"

Home.

"Yes, please."

My heart and mind feel like Flight of the Bumblebee until I get into Lou's car and all the tension goes out of me. Like someone cut my strings. I sink into the leather seat and press a hand to my pulsing head and close my eyes. "I owe you so much," I say as she gets in next to me and starts the car.

"You don't. Friends help friends in need, right?"

"The hotel will reimburse me, I can pay y—"

Lou gives me a stern look. "Charlotte, in the nicest way possible, I neither want nor need your money. Okay? This is not a transaction. It's ... a favor."

"Are favors not transactional?"

"Not in my world. That kind of negates the meaning of the word, doesn't it? A favor is something you do out of the goodness of your own heart. If you expect something in return, it isn't a favor anymore. I'm not asking anything of you. I'm opening my home to someone I care about."

I roll my cheek against the seat to watch her as we drive back to the cabin. She's a smooth driver, which I'm only now learning is a turn-on for me, the way she rests one hand on the wheel, the other tucked between her thighs.

"You care about me?"

"Yes." She nods once.

"I care about you too."

"Then I don't see any problem with this arrangement. Everything's going to be all right." She glances from the road to me, just for a second. "Trust me."

"I trust you."

I do. I could carve out my heart and place it in her palms and know that it is in good hands. I'm still watching her when she returns her gaze to the road, and I catch it. That half smile. The one that's just for her, soft and self-satisfied. I want to reach out and trace the line of her lips with my fingertip. I want to pull her lip between my teeth and taste her—

"You stare a lot."

I look away, the hot blush returning to my cheeks. "Sorry."

"Just an observation," she remarks.

If you go to a gallery and see a piece of art that takes your breath away, is it staring to stand before it for minute after minute, to want to take in every minute details in order to be able to later recreate it in your mind? No. It's admiration. Appreciation. Reverence. That's the one. I revere her.

*

if i'm ever stuck in a disaster, i want a lou by my side!