The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(79)

“Like how you no longer want the POP Smoothie Shop,” Brooke said.

Mindy turned her head to look at her. “I had no idea that bothered you.”

“It doesn’t bother me, but it bothers you, so I’d have liked to have known about it.”

Mindy felt . . . stunned. Brooke had wanted to be close, and what had she done? She’d let her vanish from her life without even a fight.

“And there’s something else,” Brooke said. “I was pregnant when the crash happened. I’d just found out.”

Mindy gasped. “You were pregnant? With . . . Garrett?” At the truth in Brooke’s eyes, a wave of anguish hit her. “Oh, Brooke, I’m so sorry. I hate that you couldn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“It wasn’t about trust,” she said softly. “It was about being stupid enough to get pregnant in the first place, and being terrified about it. And then it was about losing the baby in the crash.”

With a low sound of regret, Mindy began to struggle to get up.

“What are you doing?” Brooke asked. “What part of ‘stay still’ don’t you understand?”

“Shit, I really need to do some damn sit-ups. I’m like a beached whale over here.” She finally managed to get off her cot.

Brooke sighed loudly, but scooted over on her own and lifted up the hospital blanket.

It felt like a white flag, and Mindy was going to take it. She crawled into the bed with her sister and felt her heart swell. She didn’t dare speak for fear of ruining the moment. So they sat in quiet. A nice quiet, for once. And then Brooke was back to her puzzle. “Hey,” she said. “What’s a seven-letter word for someone who’s been a jerk?”

“Asshole?” Mindy asked.

Brooke touched her own nose and smiled.

And Mindy nearly choked on her own regrets. “I’m so sorry you didn’t feel you could tell me.”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t tell. But, Min, I didn’t talk to anyone about it except Garrett. And almost as soon as I told him, it was over. And . . .” She closed her eyes. “That’s not all of it.”

Mindy’s heart tightened. “What? Tell me. Please tell me.”

“I didn’t just miscarry after the helicopter crash. During the surgery, things . . . happened.”

“I know, Bee. You lost your spleen, some of your lower intestines, got an infection and almost died.” Her eyes filled again. “We were all devastated for you. I wanted to crawl into your hospital bed and take care of you. I’m your big sister—I’m supposed to nurture you so hard that you get annoyed.”

“Mission accomplished.”

They both gave a watery laugh, but Brooke’s faded. “I . . . can’t get pregnant anymore.”

Mindy stared at her, heart pounding at the reality of what her sister had gone through, alone. “What?”

“Please don’t make me repeat it. But most of all, please don’t cry anymore, you’re probably already dehydrated. You break out when you’re dehydrated. I don’t want that on my head.”

Mindy swallowed hard, not willing to let Brooke tease this away. “You can’t have babies.”

“No,” Brooke whispered.

God. She couldn’t imagine. “Do you want one of mine?”

Brooke choked out a low laugh. “Stop.”

“No, I’m serious,” Mindy said. “Take one. But not the good one. Not Millie.”

And at that, the infallible Brooke Lemon burst into tears.

“No, oh, honey, no, I’m just kidding, you can totally have Millie,” Mindy whispered frantically, and pulled Brooke into her arms, feeling her own heart break for her. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Brooke sniffed and wiped her nose on Mindy’s sleeve. “Are we?”

Mindy nodded. “Yes, even though if I was as OCD as you, I’d have to kill you for the snot.” She sighed and hugged Brooke tight. “But we really are okay.”

Brooke choked out a laugh and they hugged some more, and Mindy felt her heart begin to mend itself. She hoped Brooke’s might do the same. They weren’t perfect—they never had been. But they were sisters, blood, and they belonged together.

Suddenly, their curtain was yanked back, and Linc and Garrett stood there wearing mirroring expressions of stress and worry.

Linc strode straight to Mindy, cupped her face and tilted it up. “You okay?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He dropped his hands and shoved them in his pockets. “Now maybe you can explain to me what the hell you guys were doing brawling at a kids’ birthday party.”

“Hey, the clown was attacking her,” Brooke said.

“You mean Michelle? Who Mindy’s hated since elementary school?”

“She used to spit in my lunch!” Mindy said. Maybe yelled.

“Yes, because you”—he used finger quotes here—“‘accidentally’ stuck your gum in her hair.”

Mindy stared into the sexy, wonderful face of the man she loved and adored beyond all imagination, but she didn’t see love and adoration in return. Instead, she saw frustration. She bit her lower lip, then winced as she split it open again. “You’re mad at me.”