Eventually, I turned and headed out last. On the sidewalk, I looked through the glass. Hazel stood near the back, away from everyone, eyes closed, exhaling slowly.
I pursed my lips together, unsure what the hell was bothering me so much. Her smile returned, this time rehearsed, as she stepped back behind the counter. I crossed the street, catching up with the others.
5
Hazel
My shift ended two hours ago, but I decided to stay longer so Laney and I could go together. She needed help anyway. The coffee shop was packed, and the kitchen was a mess. I finished up there before the next shift took over while Laney counted the cash.
“All done here,” she said, closing the register, and disappeared into the back to get changed.
“Here you go,” Thomas said, handing me a to-go cup. Thomas was my colleague and trainer here at O’Riley’s when I first started. Cool dude.
“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile to hide my exhaustion.
“I heard you had a visitor today.” Thomas raised his eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Jackson has a habit of showing up when I don’t need him here lately. No worries.” But Iwasworried, even though it was much easier to convince myself it was no big deal.
“Just say the word, and I’ll add him to the Do Not Serve and Get the Hell Out list if he gives you more trouble.”
I laughed, picturing that scenario playing out.
“It’s fine. Really.” I sipped the caramel-infused liquid, its warmth instantly calming me.
“Thank you for covering for Laney last week, by the way. We’re so short-staffed lately, thanks to all the allergy-prone Gen Zers calling in sick this spring.”
“Well, spring is a tough time for everyone,” I chuckled, just as Laney stepped out of the staff room, tossing her bag over her shoulder.
We stepped into the fresh spring air, and I instinctively scanned the street. We were headed downtown. Laney had errands there, and my apartment was on the way. It was a bit of a walk, but I didn’t mind.
I loved spring. Actually, I loved all the seasons. Well, not really the seasons themselves, more the moments between them. If you do the math, it checks out: four beautiful seasons. By the end of each, you’ve fully adjusted to the new one, and it starts to feel repetitive. Then, the next one shows up and suddenly becomes my new favorite. I mean, who doesn’t love winter—snowfall, hot cocoa, and Christmas tree fresheners? But by the time late February hits, it’s just gray, freezing, and draining. That’s when spring arrives, bringing warmth, while I repot my plants and get lost in the weeds. By May, you’re ready for beach days. Or, in my case, the strawberry tarts from The Bakehouse. And don’t even get me started on fall—it’s a season I’d gladly ink into my skin, if only I could do it justice. And so it goes. Whenever the season turns, that exact moment becomes my favorite—the fifth season, as I call it. But since explaining all this was a hassle, I just avoided the topic altogether.
After chatting about new book releases and our weirdest recent customers, we finally made it to my place. I wasn’t expecting Mady for another couple of hours, so I slipped into a bath to unwind, put on some good old Taylor Swift, and tried to space out for a moment surrounded by pine-scented candles. After “Cardigan” had played for the sixth time, I figured I should probably get out.
Half an hour later, I was curled up on the couch, brushing through damp hair and scrolling through Craigslist apartment listings, when the doorbell rang.
“Sushi?” Mady said and lifted the takeaway bags like a trophy, smiling so brightly it lit up the entire hall.
“You already know the answer to that,” I said, letting her breeze past me into the apartment.
Before long, we were tipsy, lying on the floor, laughing about the time she lost a dare in college and had to deliver an entire group presentation in a fake British accent, barely able to keep our composure together.
“The professor thought you were an exchange student until the last slide,” I said between gasps of laughter. “Thank God no one recorded it. If a video of that surfaces, someone’s 100% slipping it into your wedding reception.”
“Oh, please. You will have to do more than that to embarrass me at my wedding,” Mady laughed.
“How’s the planning going anyway?”
“Oh, it’s coming along. We have a date and, possibly, John doing card tricks as I walk down the aisle,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“What?” I sputtered, nearly spilling my wine.
“Yeah. He found this wild YouTube video on ‘unique wedding ideas’. I walked in halfway, and now I have to stage an intervention before it becomes a real possibility.”
John had always been an interesting person, though I sometimes sensed a hint of darkness in him. It was usually harmless, like when we were at a restaurant and the waiter messed up our order. John wouldn’t be rude, but he’d mutter under his breath, calling him adegenerate.
But he was good to Mady, and they seemed to balance each other out.
