“And because you’re a minor and you don’t have a license,” Mick went on, speaking kindly but not sugar-coating it, “and because she signed those papers, you’re her responsibility. And that includes legally. She could be in trouble for you driving underage and without a license, and be held liable for all damages.”
And still, Quinn’s first and only concern had been for Tilly. About getting to her. Seeing her with her own eyes. “But it wasn’t her fault,” Tilly whispered past a throat that felt like she’d swallowed shards of glass. “Isn’t there anything that can be done?”
“Yes,” Mick said, not pulling punches. “To soften the blow for herself, Quinn could have you charged with stealing her car.”
Tilly was pretty sure she was going to pass out. She gripped the counter and stared at the spilled flour.
Mick gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “But we both know that Quinn would never in a million years do anything like that to you. Or at least I’m hoping you know that.”
Tilly nodded. Because she did know it.
“Do you know why?” Mick asked.
“Because she loves me,” Tilly whispered.
“She does.” There was a smile in his voice. “Although once the dust settles, she might be a little pissed about not having a car to sell. She’d planned on using the money from it to update this house and the café.”
Oh, God. She covered her face and felt Mick turn her to him and pull her in for a hug. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said. “But I’m not going to stand around and let you use her for a punching bag when she’s trying so hard either.”
Tilly nodded and sniffed.
“Did you just wipe your nose on my shirt?”
She choked out a laugh. “No!” When she pulled back, she saw that he was teasing her and realized it had worked. He was a really good guy. Maybe as good as Dylan. “Mick?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not the only one all screwed up, you know. My sister has trust issues.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“She’d never put this into words, but she’d been hurt, big time. By her adoptive parents. By my mom. By that Brock guy.” She paused. “By me.” She shook her head. “I don’t think she believes in love.”
“I know that too,” he said. “And until she came along and changed my mind, I’d have said she wasn’t the only one.”
She stared at him.
He let her, seemingly unbothered by her scrutiny.
“I broke her heart,” she said quietly. “I’m going to fix it and then I’m never going to do it again.”
“Good.”
“But now I need you to look me in the eyes and give me your word that you’re not going to ever do it either,” she said.
He held eye contact and nodded with the solemnness the moment called for. “You have my word.”
“Okay.” She nodded back. “Now there’s something I have to do.” She went back to her room and pulled out the box she’d been hiding under her bed. She set it in the hallway next to Quinn’s shut door. She hesitated, wanting to knock, but she was afraid to make things any worse.
Mostly she just felt like crap. She’d known Quinn wanted to go back to L.A. and she’d assumed the worst. That she’d stay in L.A. and Tilly would have to go back to living with Chuck.
Chuck had been good to her. He’d done the best he could, but his place had never been home.
This was home.
And she’d blown it.
Chapter 36
My mom used to say that the fastest land mammal on earth is the teenager who sees Mom pulling into the driveway and realizes they forgot to do some chores.
—From “The Mixed-Up Files of Tilly Adams’s Journal”
Quinn got up the next morning not letting herself think too much or she’d lose it. When Mick had finally joined her in bed last night, they hadn’t talked. She hadn’t the brain power for it. Instead, he’d done his best to distract her from her stress and anxiety, and he was a most excellent distractor. It had proved all but impossible to think of anything past her desperate need for him when he had her in bed.
Or in the shower.
Or up against a wall.
He wasn’t in the bed now, but given that his side of the mattress was still warm and that Coop was still snoozing in the corner, he hadn’t gone far. On a run, maybe.
She got up and nearly tripped over Tink.
“Mew,” she said in a tone that suggested she was close to starving to death.
Just beyond the cat, just outside Quinn’s bedroom door, was a small chest she’d never seen before. She picked it up and moved into the kitchen with Tink on her heels, finding the place clean of her baking mess.
Tilly stood at the stovetop making breakfast. She’d even made coffee, cast on her arm and all. The teen nudged a mug toward her, gave a tentative smile and . . . burst into tears, sobbing out words like “sorry” and “I don’t know what I was thinking” and “please don’t hate me . . .”
Quinn set the small chest down and moved in close. She took the spatula out of Tilly’s hand, turned off the flames, and then pulled her in for a hug. “Of course I don’t hate you.”
But apparently it was Tilly’s turn to lose her collective shit. She was crying so hard she was shaking and still talking nonsense, something about their deal and how she’d messed everything up.
“It’s okay,” Quinn told her, stroking her back, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re safe, and the rest will fall into place. It’s going to be okay.”
Tilly managed to subside into hiccups. “How?” she asked soggily. “How will it fall into place? I’ve ruined your car and your life. You’ll un-sign the papers and go back to L.A.”
Quinn pulled back just enough to look into Tilly’s face. “Is that what you think? That I’d just walk away from you?” But she could see by Tilly’s expression that she truly feared exactly that.
And why wouldn’t she? Her dad had walked away. Her mom had left her too, albeit very unwillingly . . . So why shouldn’t Quinn? “Tilly,” she said quietly but with utter steel, as she meant every single word. “I would never leave you. You’re my sister. You’re stuck with me, okay? Through thick and thin. That’s what family means.”
Tilly stared at her, eyes searching so desperately that Quinn could scarcely breathe. “You really want to stay?”
“Yes.”
“With me.”
“Yes.”
“In Wildstone.”
Quinn laughed. “Yes! Especially now that I know you’ve got cleaning skills.” She looked around. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
“You’re choosing Wildstone over L.A.,” Tilly repeated, refusing to be drawn into a good mood.
Quinn let her smile fade. “I’m choosing you.”
“But—”
“No buts. It’s you and me,” Quinn said. “It’s also your choice. If you wanted to go to L.A., we’d do that. We’d live in my condo or figure something else out. But if you want to stay here, that’s fine too. And actually . . .” She met Tilly’s gaze. “So do I.”
“For reals?”
“For reals,” Quinn said with a smile.
“What if you change your mind?”
“I won’t.”
“Dad did.”
“His loss,” Quinn said quietly. “But neither of us is built that way. We don’t walk away from those we love. Ever. And I do love you, Tilly.”
Tilly eyes spilled over again, but this time Quinn was pretty sure it was relief, not worry or anxiety.
“I have something for you,” Tilly whispered.
“A promise to never scare me again?” Quinn asked.