The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(66)

Mindy let herself in, tripping over all the stuff. Her stuff. Linc’s stuff. Kid stuff. Pool stuff. Brooke had tried to tell her this place wasn’t a guesthouse of any sort, but she’d ignored it because she hadn’t had the brainpower to devote to one more thing. She’d just shoved her sister in here with no thoughts to her comfort. Mindy had managed to make her feel unwelcome without even trying, in her own childhood home, no less.

Brooke didn’t acknowledge her, not when she opened the door and not when she walked to the bed. “I’m sorry,” Mindy said quietly. “I know I’ve been . . . difficult.”

No reaction from Brooke, of course.

With a sigh, Mindy kicked off her shoes, set the child monitors on the coffee table, and got onto the futon. In the past, she’d read to Brooke long into the night because her sister had always wanted to know more about the world beyond Wildstone. Sometimes Mindy would change the characters’ names to Mindy and Brooke Lemon, or she’d make up a Lemon Sisters Adventure. “I should’ve brought a book for old times’ sake, yeah?”

Brooke maintained her silence.

Tough crowd. Exhausted, and worried she was never going to find her way back to her sister—or any other part of her life—Mindy settled in and closed her eyes. Which was when Brooke finally spoke. Her voice was quiet. Distant. “We’re grown-ups now, Min. We don’t need each other like we used to. Your words, remember?”

Mindy froze and felt her face heat, even though those had been her words. She just hadn’t realized how harsh they were until she heard them hurtled back at her. Sliding out of the bed, she slunk back to her own, tiptoeing past Linc, who’d apparently gotten home and had fallen asleep on the couch. She went to her room, feeling even worse about her life than she’d felt that morning, which was saying something.





Chapter 15


“Don’t look down, and whatever you do, don’t let go.”

Early the next morning, Brooke headed out with her camera and a huge to-go cup of tea in tow. She didn’t mess around with her caffeine. She liked it hot and by the gallon. Halfway to her car, she stopped in surprise.

Garrett was leaning against the passenger door, casual as you please.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I know you’ve been taking the early mornings to go hike or climb. Thought maybe I’d go with.”

The morning part was true. She’d been going out on her own before helping Mindy with the kids or working on the photo gig. She’d been trying to reacquaint herself with . . . well, herself. “The point of going out alone is to be alone.”

“Once upon a time we used to go together.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, we ‘used to’ do a whole lot of things.” Such as love each other . . . She unlocked her car. “And you’ve got work.”

“That’s the perk of being my own boss. I set my hours.”

To be honest, that was what she loved about the new photo gig, too. No set hours, and no one telling her what to do. “Trust me, you’ll be bored. Because FYI, I walk. Not hike. Not climb.”

Without responding, he took her hand and steered her to his truck.

“What’s wrong with my car?” she asked.

“It’s not a truck.”

She rolled her eyes again. At this rate, if she kept it up, they’d roll right out of her head before she got back to LA.

He waited until they were both buckled in before he took off his sunglasses and turned to her.

“What?” she asked. “You just realized how dumb this is?”

“No. I just want to talk to you first.”

“Oh boy.” Nothing good ever came from a statement like that. “Look, we really don’t need to talk about what happened. You made it clear what you think of me, and I get it, so—”

“You have no idea what I think. But I said something to you that I shouldn’t have, and I can’t let it stand.”

She let out a breath. It was too early for emotions. She didn’t have enough caffeine in her for it yet. “You’re going to have to be more clear, since you said lots of things. Like . . . ‘Oh yeah, babe, just like that,’ and ‘Brooke, you feel hot as f—”’

“I meant the next morning,” he said, sliding her a look.

Right. “Well, as much fun as this talk would be, I’m going to take a hard pass . . .” She started to open the door, but he put a hand over hers.

“I said you were a mistake.” He spoke quietly. “You’re not. You never were.”

Every muscle had clenched when he’d started this conversation, braced for something bad. So she felt unprepared for how his words went straight to her heart and squeezed so hard it took her a moment to speak. “It’s okay if I am. I’d get it.”

“You’re not,” he said with a quiet intensity that made her chest squeeze again.

Since he was still looking at her, seeming to be waiting for a response of some kind, she swallowed the lump in her throat and gave him a small but real smile and a nod. “Okay, thanks.”

He nodded and matched her small smile, looking relieved. Realizing he didn’t expect additional uncomfortable deep talk, or for her to spill her guts, her smile spread a little with a whole lot of relief. “So . . . we’re okay?”