Page 58 of First Love, Second Draft

“I really thought it’d be better by now. Plus I didn’t want to bother you. I feel like all you do is help me.”

“What’s wrong with that? I’m your friend.”

“Yeah, but this just seems above and beyond the average call of friendship duty.”

“Well, who said anything about our friendship being average? Come on. You can’t stay here alone like this. Why don’t you at least stay the night at my place?” He gently grabbed her elbow. “I’ve gota heating pad that might help. Plus, I’ll be able to give you a ride to the chiropractor first thing tomorrow morning.”

“You really don’t have to do all this.”

“I know, but let me anyway.” After helping her pack a few things, he was soon helping her into his truck.

“You weren’t serious about the meningitis, were you,” she said as he leaned over to buckle her in.

“One nurse was placing bets on mono.”

“Where do they get this?”

“Oh, that’s not all,” Matt said, straightening and grabbing the edge of the truck door to close it. “Some girl with pink hair tried telling me you got beat up because you confronted your sister’s ex-boyfriend Ace for stealing a bunch of money from you.”

“Pssh. That’s crazy.”

“I know.”

“He didn’t even come close to beating me up.”

“I know.” Matt started to close the door, then opened it wide again. “Wait—what? Are you saying you did confront Ace?”

“If confronting means pouring a glass of beer over his head.”

Matt gripped the door harder to keep his knees from buckling. “You did what? When?”

“Weeks ago. That night I was driving home late and hit the deer. I was on my way back from his bar.”

“And you’ve just been living out here by yourself with zero security, broken-down doors, and... and...mice?”

“Can we save this discussion for a time when I can hold my head a little more perpendicular to my shoulders?”

“Rachel.I cannot believe you. If I hadn’t already packed a bag to bring you home with me, I’d be packing a bag right now to bring you home with me. Are you nuts? You can’t just go around dumping beer on people’s heads.”

“It wasn’t people. It was Ace.”

“That’s even worse. You’re coming home with me right now and I don’t want another word about it.”

“I’m in the truck, aren’t I?”

“I saidnot another word. You practically have a hit out on you, do you realize that? Picking a fight with Ace,” he muttered as he slammed the door shut. Good thing he was here to save her neck—in more ways than one.

32

“No. No way. Absolutely not. Never gonna happen.”

“Gracie, you didn’t even let me explain,” Simone pleaded through the phone.

Gracie slammed the refrigerator door shut. “What’s to explain? I’m a romance writer. I don’t write memoirs. Certainly not my ex-husband’s memoir. The answer is no. I can’t believe you thought I’d even consider the idea.”

“Hear me out.”

Gracie pressed her lips together, wanting to scream. Wanting to vomit. Wanting to swear. It took all of her willpower not to end the phone call. She limped to the kitchen table and yanked out a chair. “I don’t want to come across as ungrateful. Honestly, you’ve been incredibly patient with me and I’m so thankful for that. But—”

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