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Matt turned off his truck and grabbed the paper sack filled with a container of chicken noodle soup and a gourmet grilled cheese sandwich. He hadn’t texted Rachel that he was coming over. Mostly because he didn’t want to give her the chance to stop him this time. Not until she at least answered the question Do you have mono or meningitis?

Matt climbed the porch stairs, much sturdier since he’d repaired them, and knocked. A flash of movement behind the living room window caught his eye. The curtain rustled back in place.

He waited for her to come to the door. After a minute, he took a deep breath, and waited another minute for her to come to the door. Another minute later, he knocked again. Louder.

Why wasn’t she coming to the door? Was she avoiding him?

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 never cry cry.

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?”

“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 got a 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 said not 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.