Completely melted, she lifted her one good arm and set her hand on his biceps. “Dylan—”
“So maybe you can try to be as kind and sweet and patient with Quinn,” he said. “Because she’s going to barrel in here any second now, frightened, freaked, and half out of her mind.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s how I felt when you called me.”
Guilt swamped Tilly. Guilt and remorse, because she hadn’t even called Quinn herself, she’d let the cop do it.
They were still staring at each other when Quinn came running into the room looking just like Dylan had said—frightened, freaked, and half out of her mind.
“Oh my God,” Quinn said, tears in her voice as she rushed to the bed.
Dylan backed away, making room for her. She cupped Tilly’s face, staring at the butterfly bandage over her eye, taking in the cast on her arm. “Oh my God.”
“You already said that,” Tilly said.
Chuck had come in behind Quinn. Probably he’d given her a ride.
Tilly met Chuck’s gaze and he gave her a very small, relieved smile.
Quinn expelled a breath of air like she’d been holding her breath for too long. And then to Tilly’s horror, Quinn’s eyes filled with tears.
“No,” Tilly said. “No, no, no . . . there’s no crying allowed in the hospital. It’s a rule, I swear it!”
“Are you okay?” Quinn demanded.
“Yeah.” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about your car.”
“Forget the car,” Quinn said and hugged her tight.
So tight she couldn’t draw in air. “Um, you’re squeezing me pretty tight—”
Quinn’s arms tightened even more.
“Okay,” Tilly squeaked out and patted Quinn awkwardly on the back. “Okay, but I. Can’t. Breathe—”
“I was worried sick about you!”
Over Quinn’s shoulder, Tilly met Dylan’s gaze, the one that said I told you so. She tried to sigh but couldn’t draw a breath. “No, really, I don’t need any air or anything—”
“Do you have any idea what could have happened?” Quinn demanded, voice quivering. “You could’ve—” When she broke off, clearly unable to speak, the reality of the situation hit Tilly.
Quinn had lost Beth in a car accident. The loss had devastated her, and now Tilly’s stupidity and selfishness had brought back all the pain and horror and shock.
She was the biggest jerk on the planet, and knowing it, wrapped her arms around Quinn and returned the hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry for . . .” Well, everything. But before she could say it, a nurse bustled in, doing her nurse thing.
After checking Tilly for what felt like the thousandth time, she said, “I’m getting your release papers ready. We’ve got some paperwork to go over.”
It was an hour and a half before they actually got to leave. Then they spent another half an hour at the pharmacy.
The car ride home was tense.
Quinn had said very little after hugging Tilly tight enough to crack her ribs. She was vibrating with tension and emotions though, and Tilly wished she’d just let them loose but had no idea how to make that happen.
Chuck dropped them off at the house, where they found Mick waiting for them on the porch. Mick hugged both Quinn and Tilly, and they went inside, Mick moving to the kitchen to give them some privacy.
Quinn stood in the living room and tossed her purse to the coffee table before putting her hands on her hips and staring down at her shoes.
Tilly stood there uncertainly. She wanted to sneak away to her bedroom, pull the covers over her head, and wait for her mom to come bring her hot chocolate.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
Quinn finally seemed to find her words. “Running away is never the answer, Tilly.”
Tilly was smart enough to know that already, but she wasn’t smart enough to keep her mouth shut. “You ran away from L.A. and your parents.”
Quinn gaped at her like a fish for a moment. “I didn’t run away! I ran to something. To someone, as a matter of fact. A someone who doesn’t seem to give a shit.”
Tilly’s stomach hit her toes. “I—”
“Oh, no. You had your chance to speak and you chose to open a can of worms, so let’s do this,” Quinn said. Actually, yelled. She was totally yelling. And also crying, which made Tilly feel like the biggest asshat on the planet.
“Maybe you don’t realize it,” Tilly said. “But you’re talking in all caps.”
“Do you think this has been easy for me?” Quinn pressed a hand to her own chest. Or at least that’s what Tilly thought she said, but Quinn was an open-mouthed crier and it was getting harder and harder to understand her.
“I know nothing about raising someone! But I’m trying, okay? And I get that I fail a lot, but I’m not going anywhere. You hear me, Tilly? I get that I’m not Carolyn, not even close, but you know what? I’m willing to try for second best because sometimes that’s just how life works. But you have to meet me halfway.”
Tilly opened her mouth but Quinn jabbed a finger at her and kept talking. “I never got to ask Carolyn questions, and I have questions, Tilly. I mean, did she also have one foot that was half a size bigger than the other? Or get murderous urges during PMS? And how about love, huh? Did she suck at it as badly as I do, because . . .”
The rest of that sentence was lost behind the crying, but it sounded like “and now I can’t even afford to fix that damn shower and I really need more hot water!”
Okay, she’d totally sent her sister over the edge. Completely over the edge. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Quinn stopped talking and crying to blow her nose, and then she . . . walked away. She went down the hallway and a minute later her bedroom door slammed shut.
Which was shocking because Quinn never slammed doors. She never lost her shit at all and Tilly was standing there wondering what the hell to do when Mick appeared at her side.
“Come to the kitchen,” he said.
“But Quinn—”
“—needs a moment.” Without another word he moved back to the kitchen.
With a sigh, Tilly followed him.
Mick pushed a mug across the counter toward her.
Hot chocolate.
She blinked away tears and that’s when she saw the ingredients . . . everywhere. Bowls, mixer, eggs, milk . . . Flour was tipped over and spilled out across the counter and floor, like someone had knocked it over in a rush.
“That was Quinn,” Mick said quietly. “She dropped everything to get to the hospital the second she got the call.”
She lifted her shocked gaze to his. “Why was she baking? She cooks all day. Baking is the last thing she’d want to do.”
“She signed your guardianship papers,” Mick said. “She wanted to surprise you with a cake.”
“But she hates to bake.”
He just looked at her.
She closed her eyes. “She said she was going to L.A.”
“Yes. To tell her parents she was moving to Wildstone. To stay.”
Tilly was stunned.