I pulled my phone out and dialed Caz, putting him on speaker while I worked. Mama and Dani quieted their whispers.
“What’s up, Dizzy?”
I resisted the urge to remind him to stop calling me that. He clearly wasn’t going to change for me. “So in order to avoid another miscommunication, what are you thinking we should wear for this challenge? I mean, are you coming in shorts and tee or your pajamas or…?”
“I don’t have pajamas.”
“Uh, then what do you sleep in?”
“Uh, they’re called boxers.”
“Dear Gouda.” I dropped the bottles, sending them careening across the kitchen floor. Mama and Dani sputtered with laughter and I motioned violently at them to be quiet. “Of all the things I didn’t need to know about you, Caz, that was pretty close to the top of the list.”
“Why? Are you picturing me in my boxers now?”
“No, but Mama and Dani probably are.”
“I knew I was on speaker,” Caz chuckled. “Hi, ladies.”
They both giggled back a greeting, which I promptly interrupted. “So, just regular clothes this time?”
“Yeah, unless you want to show up in some kind of fuzzy, lacy pajama thing. I doubt the viewers would mind—”
“Bye, Caz.” I hung up before Rocco finished whistling.
“That boy is enjoying this way too much,” Dani commented and Mama made a hum of agreement. Together we loaded up the back of the UTV with all of our supplies.
When Mama gave me a hug, I tried not to think about how much less of her filled my arms these days. “Stop by the Registration Station and take one of the hammocks to replace the other. Tell Caz that if my campground is gonna be all over the internet, y’all better make it look good.”
Once Dani and I nicked the new purple hammock from the Station store, we pulled up at Lovers Corner to find Caz and Rocco standing on the roof of Caz’s truck, changing out the bulb in the floodlight. Caz might be a turd most of the time, but he could fix things and usually did it without even being asked.
And he was practically an expert at hanging hammocks for me.
“Hammock is done!” Caz announced and dropped his tools into the metal box he kept in the back of his truck. “As always, you get the honor of trying it out first.”
I rested my stick against the stone pit and surveyed the new hammock stretching between two strong oaks. “Looks so much better,” I commented and then slowly lowered myself into the center of it. It held my weight until I relaxed all the way in and pushed off with my feet to swing.
Something about a hammock felt like home. I enjoyed the ebb and flow of air and space for a few moments before Caz said, “My turn to test it out now!”
“No, Caz! Wait—”
I tried to scramble back to my feet, knowing what was coming next, but I wasn’t fast enough. He launched himself into the hammock next to me and even though I tried to counteract his momentum, the entire thing turned upside down and dumped us on the ground.
“Why, Caz! Why...” I moaned, rolling over onto my back and grabbing my left arm. Good thing my shoulder had taken the brunt of the fall and not my head. Ugh!
“I’m sorry! I guess we’re not as little as we were the last time I did that.” He had landed on all fours next to me, but was quick to push the hammock away and help me into a sitting position.
“That’s gonna bruise...” I winced as I lifted the sleeve of my t-shirt to find a superficial scrape that was smarting as if my arm had just been cut off.
“Here, sit back down. I have something I can clean it with.” He reached for my hands to pull me off the ground but he didn’t let go until he had gently led me to sit in the middle of the hammock. I leaned over on my knees and tried to overcome my irritation with him and his impulsive choices. He dug around in his toolbox and came back with a package of disinfecting wipes.
“It’s gonna sting,” he warned. I bit my lip as the alcohol in the wipe burned against my raw skin. But then he blew on it, and, while it tamed the sting, it sent a shiver down my spine for other reasons.
“Sorry, Dais,” he said again.
“Sometimes I wish you would think before you do things,” I muttered.
He didn’t really have a response, but when he stood up, I noticed blood trickling down his leg.
“Your knee!” I pointed and he glanced down in surprise. I scooted over a little so he could sit. He was more careful this time, but the basic laws of hammock design meant that our sides pressed against each other.
Which also meant that, while he cleaned his knee, I could smell him again. In a good way. Always fresh and tinged with something earthy, something that indicated Caz spent most of his time outdoors. His shoulder was at the perfect height for my head to rest against and it just remained there, as if offering itself to me. But I hadn’t leaned on him—physically or emotionally—all year long and I wasn’t about to start now.
When he was done, he dropped the wipe on the ground and turned his face toward mine. I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of those brown eyes so close to my face. Their focus seemed to rest on my lips for a moment.
“You okay?” Those soft tones in his voice were back and I made myself lean away with a nod.
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