The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(41)

He rubbed his hands over his face. His hair was standing on end. He was pale, and now that he mentioned it, he did smell vaguely of vomit.

“I’ve got no idea how Mindy does this day in and day out,” he said quietly, eyes closed. “No wonder she went nuts. She’s lucky to have you. Do you think she’s ever coming back?”

She’d better. “Maybe she just needs a few more naps and some carbs.”

He laughed, but went serious again. “I want to help her through this.”

“You tell her that?”

“Yes. I’ve been an idiot.”

“Yes. Now tell me you’ve got this.”

“I’ve got this.”

Dr. Linc wakes up, she thought.

She just wished she could.





Chapter 9


“I love my kids. They’re . . . amazing. But holy shit, they’re also the cutest little soul-suckers I’ve ever seen.”

A few days later, Mindy Lemon-Tennant pulled into Wildstone with a whole bunch of mixed emotions. She’d waited until dark to come home on purpose. She’d loved LA. She’d loved Brooke’s place, Tommy’s company, and how clearheaded she’d felt after catching up on her sleep. She’d also loved being away from the responsibility of the POP Smoothie Shop she’d once upon a time wanted to own with her whole heart.

But she also loved Wildstone, and felt her heart clutch as she pulled into her driveway. And as much as she loved this house she’d grown up in, she’d missed what was inside it even more. Missing her kids and Linc was an actual physical ache in her chest that no amount of food or wine or antacids had been able to ease.

But . . . she had no idea how to come home again. Especially to the sister who’d saved her life this past week, the same sister who’d pulled back so much emotionally that they were strangers.

It was eight thirty, past the kids’ bedtime. The house was quiet, but not dark. Someone was up. Brooke? Linc? On a normal workday, he never came home before nine, so she figured he was still at work. Taking a deep breath, she headed in, crossing through the dark living room to her favorite room in the house—her kitchen. She’d missed her kitchen. She’d missed her beloved appliances. She’d missed her oven. She’d missed baking . . .

Brooke was sitting on the countertop drinking out of Mindy’s favorite mug. It was one of those mugs you could write your own slogan on. She’d always worked hard at finding just the right uplifting message to use every day. She’d written the last one on the morning she’d left, and it had read, Find the Calm in the Chaos.

It now read, My sister went to LA and all I got was this lousy mug.

Fair.

“Hi, honey, I’m home,” she quipped.

“Good. And I especially liked the way you timed your homecoming to miss bedtime,” Brooke said.

Okay, not exactly a hug and kiss hello, but it was more than the usual silence she’d gotten from Brooke over the past few years. Mindy set her purse on the table. She wanted to see the kids more than anything, but she didn’t know where she and Brooke stood, and she wanted to. She’d been in freak-out mode when she’d showed up on Brooke’s LA doorstep, and though they’d texted multiple times a day since then, it had been all about the kids. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yep,” Brooke said, popping the P sound. She refilled the mug from a nearly empty wine bottle behind her, answering the mystery of what she was drinking. “Although I’ve been worried sick, and here you are, looking like a million damn bucks in new clothes and new hair and . . . wait—are those my shoes?”

Mindy felt a warm glow that Brooke had been worried about her and looked down at the fabulous wedges she’d liberated from her sister’s closet. “They felt neglected.”

Brooke looked her over. “New hair, new clothes, you’ve lost two pounds, and you’re wearing makeup. Tommy had the girls give you a makeover.”

Mindy preened a little bit; she couldn’t help it. It was a thrill to not look half dead. “I’ve been working out, too. Weights and treadmill.”

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my sister?” Brooke asked. “You hate running. You used to say that if you were ever found dead on a treadmill, we should know that you were murdered elsewhere and dumped there.”

“I still hate it. But two pounds! You could tell?” she asked, pleased.

“Tommy told me,” Brooke said. “He texts me a hundred times a day.”

“Oh,” Mindy said, feeling a little deflated.

“He’s my best friend, Min. Of course he kept me updated on your well-being. I was worried sick about you. He said you were doing good, looking happy while living my life.”

Brooke hadn’t said that with a single drop of sarcasm, but Mindy winced just the same. Because it was true. She’d just spent five days with Brooke’s things in Brooke’s world, which had been a kind of stolen intimacy she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much. Being in LA, living Brooke’s life with no Brooke, had made her ache for her sister more than she’d thought possible. “I appreciate what you did for me.” She paused, understanding that they were in a different place than they used to be, but wishing they could go back to when they’d been BFFs. “I miss you. And if I did something to make you stay away all this time—”