Before He Finds Her Read Online Free Page A

the road where she lived, which was the whole point. There were a dozen homes, about half of them trailers. On any given day, fewer than ten cars might rumble by. Now, sitting on Phillip’s stoop, she imagined she was behind the wheel of each car that passed, on her way to somewhere. It didn’t need to be somewhere amazing. Just somewhere else. She thought about Dorothy, singing about wanting to go somewhere over the rainbow. It’d been on TV again the other night, that stupid movie. Why on earth would Dorothy want to go home at the end? She’s a hero, she has friends, everything is in beautiful color. What a tragedy, returning to Kansas.
    The high school let out at 2:30. Unless there was a faculty meeting, Phillip was usually home by three. He wasn’t expecting her today, though, and it wasn’t until 3:40 that he came walking along up the hill, carrying a stuffed-full paper shopping bag. He owned a thousand-year-old Mazda hatchback, but it had broken down twice on his drive to West Virginia last year, and the brakes made an awful metal-on-metal scrape. He preferred to leave it in the carport, which meant lugging his groceries a half mile from the store.
    Seeing Melanie, he smiled and set the bag down on the ground.
    “A sight for sore eyes,” he said. “An absolute vision.”
    The temperature had spiked since this morning, the humidity returning. Phillip still had on his coat and tie. His face glistened as if he had the flu.
    She got up from the stoop and went over to him.
    “Don’t,” he said. “I’m disgusting.”
    She moved in for an embrace. Phillip’s heart thudded against her, and she imagined that she, and not the walk in the heat, had caused it. They separated, and she picked up the grocery bag while Phillip fished in his pocket for his keys and opened the door. When they went inside, no cold blast of air greeted them—just some noisy overhead fans pushing around the oppressive air.
    “What’re you doing here?” he asked. “Your face is flushed—let me get you some water.”
    She was hot suddenly, and woozy. In Phillip’s bedroom window was an old air-conditioning unit, but it only half worked and it blocked out the room’s natural light. So she sat down on the sofa. The house was a one-bedroom shotgun shack, smaller than a single-wide, tidy, and decorated not so differently from her own home: everything bought cheaply or used.
    He set the groceries on the kitchen table, filled up a glass of water, and handed it to her. She took a long swallow despite the taste and passed the cup back to him. He downed the rest.
    “Your water tastes rusty,” she said.
    “Really?” He looked into the empty glass.
    If only she had that girl Raquel’s ability to put people at ease. But Melanie never had anyone to practice on. She knew it had to be frustrating for Phillip, trying to get close to someone who seemed capable of bluntness and secrecy and nothing in-between.
    “I’ve been meaning to buy a filter,” he said.
    “Why don’t you sit down.” She patted the sofa beside her, but he was eyeing the grocery bag. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing,” he said. “It’s just... I don’t want this stuff to spoil.”
    She knew what it was like when every dollar counted, each egg or ounce of milk something to take seriously. Her family had more money now that Kendra was freed up from tutoring Melanie and could work at the dollar store. But they’d never be a name-brand family. “Put everything away first. I’m sorry.”
    “Oh, don’t be—just hang out for two seconds. Can I get you something else? Juice? Glass of wine?”
    “No, nothing, thank you.”
    He stowed ground beef and yogurt and milk in the refrigerator—the other stuff he left in the bag—and sat on the sofa beside her.
    “I’ve never seen you move so fast,” she said.
    “I don’t like to keep my women waiting.”
    “How many do you have?”
    He smiled. “Dozens.”
    “I have something serious to tell you.”
    “Oh.” He sat up