“Rosie! Are you okay?” Charlie raced toward me as I lay stunned and assessed the damage.

Painting: At an angle but successfully hung on the wall.

The rest of me: “Owww.”

“Max, help her to the couch,” Charlie said.

He hesitated, taking in the fallen books as though I had done him a personal slight by scattering them around his store. “I don’t think we’re supposed to move someone who’s injured …”

“I’ll help her,” Mr. Willingham said gallantly. He stepped forward with this stooped back and willing heart.

Gene held out a hand to stop him. “I thought your doctor said you’re not supposed to lift more than ten pounds after your fall last month.”

Sheesh. We were falling left and right.

“I’ve got this,” I said, but Charlie put a hand on my shoulder and gently squeezed.

“You remember what happened toour friend Janeafter her injury. Or maybe she wassick.” Charlie winked. My confusion went to understanding in an instant—Jane Bennet. Charlie may not have been on board with the plan or the man, but she always had my back. “Max, can you help her? I think you’ll need to carry her.”

Max rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “Okay …” He wrapped an arm around my back to help me sit up, which didn’t feel great, I’ll say that much. But he smelled fresh, like deodorant, and up close, I could see a five-o’clock shadow coming in. It helped distract me from the pain. A little.

“Link one arm under her leg and the other behind her back, then pick her up,” Gene instructed as Max hesitated.

“Like carrying her over the threshold,” Mrs. Mabel added helpfully. Her two students were still sitting in the circle of chairs, on their phones. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn they didn’t even notice me lying on the ground. One of them held up their phone, took a picture of me, and smiled as she began typing away. Well, there went that hope.

“Wrap your arm around his neck, hon,” Mrs. Mabel continued, way too enthusiastically.

I did as Mrs. Mabel instructed, and Max did as Gene instructed.

“Okay, lift her on the count of three,” Gene said. “One, two—”

I felt Max’s muscles contract around me as he lifted me an inch, then another. His arms shook, and I tried to revel in being so close to him, but pain was really ruining the experience. The tendons in his neck tightened. “I didn’t realize you were so heavy,” he said between gasps.

Charlie scoffed.

“Max!” Mrs. Mabel admonished.

Max’s face was red. “I just mean—” But before I could figure out what he meant, he dropped me right on my tailbone again. I gasped and rolled to my side.

“I’m sorry, I—” Max shook out his arms and stepped back.

Mrs. Mabel fished some ibuprofen from her purse for me, and Charlie and Gene went to either side of me to help me stand and make it to the couch. Not too heavy for their help, at least.

“Do you need to sleep here tonight?” Charlie asked.

I saw Max’s eyes widen, but I shook my head, too miserable to scheme. All I wanted was my bed—no wait. I didn’t even have that. Dylan had it. Charlie’s mouth turned down in true concern. “Gene? Can you drive us back to Rosie’s place?”

Gene nodded. “Mrs. Mabel, I’ll drop you off too.”

“But the book,” Max said, disappointed. “We hardly got to talk about it.” His voice drifted off as everyone glared at him. I softened though. He looked forward to this book club every month, and I’d ruined it. But there was still time to enact the next step of my plan: get to his heart through his books.

“Next month we should doShrubs of Fog,” I said.

Everyone but Max groaned. It was a thousand-page, stream-of-consciousness book Max had been trying to convince us to read for a year. Apparently the entire book was one long sentence told in second person.

But it was all worth it for the grin he gave me. “It’s a deal. Hope you feel better, Jos.”

We had a nickname! It was for the wrong name, but a step in the right direction.