Page 57 of First Love, Second Draft

Too bad if she was. He wasn’t leaving until he found out what was going on.

“Rachel.” He pounded the door. “I know you’re in there. I just... Are you okay? I heard you were sick, maybe.” Or roughed up. But his brain preferred to go with the sickness theory. “I brought some food. Open up. Please.”

Just when he didn’t think she was going to answer and he might have to knock another door off its hinges, the door cracked open.Rachel’s head, nearly at a ninety-degree angle on her left shoulder, peered back at him.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he said back.

He peered through the sliver of space, not wanting to shove the door open, but... yeah. Really wanting to shove the door open. Was she going to let him inside? Offer an explanation as to why she wasn’t letting him inside? Something?

He lifted the sack. “Are you hungry?”

“Sure. Just, um, leave it on the porch. Thanks.”

“Rachel, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just having a little bit of an issue.”

“What sort of issue?” He slid his foot in the door opening to keep her from closing it.

“Neck issue. But it’ll be fine. Thanks for the food.” The pressure against his foot increased.

“Wait. What’s wrong with your neck? Do you have meningitis? That’s what some of your coworkers are saying.”

She let out a soft laugh, then immediately winced and grabbed her neck. “No. Nothing like that. It’s just a stiff neck. I’m seeing a chiropractor tomorrow. Thanks again for the food.”

“Well, let me at least take it into the kitchen for you.”

“I’m not really suitable for company.”

“Rachel. It’s me. You don’t have to set out the fine china. Just let me in.” He brought his palm up to the door.

“I can’t.”

“You’re starting to freak me out. Are you sure you don’t have meningitis?”

“Do you even know what meningitis is?”

“No, but it sounds terrible. Possibly contagious. Why else won’t you let me inside?”

“Because I haven’t showered in days and I can’t straighten my head. I look terrible, I feel awful, and nobody should see me like this. Except for the chiropractor. I desperately want for him to see me like this.”

She tried for a light laugh, but it quickly turned into a whimper. When her face scrunched up and a tear ran down her cheek, Matt couldn’t stand still another second on the porch. “Hey,” he said, stepping inside and setting the sack on the floor inside her entry.

“Hey, Rachel, hey...” He wasn’t sure what else to say. He’d never seen Rachel cry before. Sure, cry from laughing too hard maybe. But nevercrycry.

More tears dripped sideways off her cheek. She gripped her neck. “I thought it’d be better by now. It hurts so bad, I can’t even move enough to change my clothes.”

She was wearing paint-speckled leggings and one of his button-down flannel shirts over a T-shirt undoubtedly covered in more paint. The flannel shirt must be the one he wore the other day to work on her porch, then took off when the afternoon sun got too warm. He forgot he’d left it behind. But boy, was he glad he did. That shirt had never looked so amazing.

Probably would look even better if the person currently wearing it wasn’t crying with her head stuck sideways on her shoulder.

He patted her arm. Seemed a safe place to touch her without causing more pain. “What happened?”

“It’s probably from redoing the popcorn ceilings and having my head tilted back at a weird angle for hours, then sleeping with the window cracked open to let out some of the fumes. I think the cold air froze my neck like this.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

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