Page 3 of First Love, Second Draft

And now that she was giving it some thought, Noah really should have gotten around to fixing the porch step railing before she kickedhim out of the house five years ago. She’d probably topple right off into the hydrangea bush the moment she put any weight on it.

“Ready to do this?” Mona dropped her phone into her purse with one hand, backhanding a leaf from her shoulder with the other.

If Gracie weren’t so terrified about whether she wasready to do this, she’d tease her sister for going all Chuck Norris on a defenseless leaf.

The fact that Gracie didn’t, must not have escaped Mona’s notice. Her pencil-thin brows dipped in concern. “This is too much for you, isn’t it? I knew it would be. We don’t even have a walker. There’s no way you’re going to make it into the house. That’s it. You leave me no other option...” Mona sighed and dug out her phone.

“Put that phone away. You arenotcalling the boys at the firehouse.” For as long as Gracie could remember, probably ever since her sister heard firefighters were rumored to rescue kittens from trees, Mona believed all of life’s difficulties could be handled by calling “the boys at the firehouse.”

One of these days her sister really needed to acknowledge that firefighters weren’t all boys. But that was a battle for another day. “Mona, I mean it. Put that phone away.”

“Why? Wombat can toss you over his shoulder and carry you inside likethat.” Mona snapped her fingers.

Gracie whimpered. The thought of her bruised ribs coming into contact with anything, especially Wombat’s beefy shoulder, tested her bladder control. “The last thing I need is a bunch of people showing up thinking they need to help me. Next thing you know, they’ll be popping in and out of the house all week. I can’t have that. Not when I need to be completely focused on finishing my story.Alone.”

“Uh-huh, and how are you going to do anythingalonewhen you can’t put any weight on your right leg? Or was it your left leg?” Mona began rummaging through Gracie’s white patient belongings bag. “What did we do with your discharge instructions?”

“I’m weight-bearing as tolerated on both legs.”

“Which would be great if you could actually tolerate any weight.Here we go.” Mona dug out a stack of papers, ran her finger down a page, frowned, and flipped to the next page. “So far it just keeps talking about how pain medicine can cause constipation.”

Well, hurrah. One thing Gracie didn’t have to worry about then, since she didn’t plan on taking a single pill. Pain medicine had always made her nauseous. The only reason she’d asked Mona to swing through Alda to pick up her prescription on their way home from the hospital was to delay getting out of the car for a few extra minutes.

Sure, Gracie was anxious to get into the house, but that didn’t mean she was anxious to experience the pain of getting into the house. But she’d certainly delayed long enough. Pain or no pain, it was time to finish her story. And she’d finish it on her own two feet.

Okay, her own two feet plus her sister’s two feet. But no more feet than that. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

No sooner had the words left Gracie’s mouth than the loud rumble of a vehicle approached from behind, drawing Mona’s attention a brief second before she dropped her gaze back to the discharge papers. “Who’s that?” Gracie asked.

Mona didn’t answer. Gravel crunched and popped beneath tires as the vehicle drew closer on the long driveway leading up to Gracie’s house. Too heavy to be a car. Sounded more like a tank. Or a...

No.

Gracie glared at her sister, who was still pretending to be enthralled by the discharge papers. “Mona, that giant truck I hear better be a FedEx delivery because I specifically told younotto call the boys at the firehouse.”

Mona flung her hands, losing half of the discharge papers in the process. “Well, what else was I supposed to do? They insisted. You know how much those boys love you. And besides, we need the help. It’s been thirty-two minutes, and you haven’t even made it out of the car.”

“It’s been twenty-eight minutes, and I’m practically inside the house.”

“Stop being so stubborn.” Mona’s phone began ringing.

“I’ll stop being stubborn when I’m not on a deadline. Don’t youdare reach for your phone. You are not taking that call until you tell them to leave. Did you hear me? I said you arenot—”

“Mona speaking.” Mona side-stepped Gracie’s reach, answering with her professional Realtor voice, a voice that didn’t betray the slightest hint her younger sister was currently hissing out ways she planned to murder her with pie.

“Hey, Miss Gracie.” Wombat sauntered over, interrupting her pie tirade. He was wearing his volunteer fireman T-shirt, which Gracie was pretty sure he’d ordered online in bulk, along with tactical pants and red suspenders. It was his ensemble whether he was working as a tow truck driver, volunteering as a firefighter, shopping for groceries, or sitting in a pew at church. Should he ever get married, Gracie imagined he’d forego a tuxedo for his current attire.

He stooped down to gather her discharge papers. “Glad you’re home. We hung the banner earlier, then figured we’d swing back by to see if you needed extra help with”—his eyes dropped to the papers—“constipation?”

Gracie snatched the papers and tossed them behind her. “I don’t need help.”

“She does. Can you get her into the house?” Mona spoke over Gracie, then pressed her phone back to her ear. “Not you.I told you the house wasn’t ready. Now, you listen here, you little...” Mona marched off, leaving Gracie alone.

Well,alonenot counting the four firefighters she used to babysit every summer when they were toddlers, and now fed at least once a month at the fire station, currently crowding around her, cracking their backs and rotating their necks.

“So how do you want to do this?” Wombat asked the other three. “I’ll grab one thigh. You grab the other. You steady the head. Sound good?”

No. Being discussed like a turkey at Thanksgiving dinner did not sound good. Especially since Leo, the one she’d always had to hide the scissors from as a toddler, had an axe propped over his shoulder.

---