The Good Luck Sister (Wildstone #1.5)(17)

His expression hardened at the thought. “And I’m never going to be.”

“Good.” She hesitated because he didn’t like to be told what to do. Hated it actually, because so many of his choices had been taken from him. And she didn’t want to make things worse, but she really wanted to say something. “And just as you don’t have to be the dick your dad is,” she said carefully, “you also don’t have to follow his chosen profession. You do whatever the hell you want to do. And you’ve got me at your back. You know I’ve been helping out at the café in the mornings and Quinn insists on paying me. I’m going to save every penny in case you need it. Do you hear me?”

A ghost of a smile twitched at his mouth. “I hear you. So do the people in China. But I’m not going to take your money, ever. I’m saving mine too, I’ll be okay.”

“So why would you go be a laborer when summer hits? Why wouldn’t you do something you love? Like work at the rec center and help coach the little kids in baseball?” He’d been a baseball superstar until he’d had to quit the team for his job. “Or you could be a lifeguard. Lots of kids are doing that this summer and they’re hiring.”

“The class to become a certified lifeguard is three hundred bucks,” he said. “The rec center won’t hire me because I had to have a recommendation from my coach and the principal, and though the coach said I would be great in the job, the principal said I had a bad attitude and a temper.”

This pissed her off. “That’s not fair.”

“I trashed his office when he accused me of stealing money from the cafeteria,” he reminded her.

“Wrongly accused.”

Dylan lifted a shoulder. Didn’t matter. The damage was done. And now he would be digging ditches for his macho, sadistic father all summer and she’d be worried for him every single second of every single day.



Halfway through Tilly’s next day of class, she had the students working quietly on their billboard design while she walked around the classroom, tentatively impressed at what she was seeing.

They’d voted on a theme for their submission and had come up with just about the opposite of what Tilly could have imagined.

Love.

Her idea had been to divide the billboard space into a grid. Everyone would take their block and do what they wanted, but then have it fit together with the others like a puzzle, making one whole cohesive piece.

She glanced up at a movement from the classroom door and found Quinn standing there, waving at her.

Tilly drew a deep breath. They hadn’t spoken in three days. Extremely unusual for them. Quinn had been butting into Tilly’s life since she’d first stepped into it all those years ago.

With a sigh, Tilly moved to the door. “What?”

“Brought you cookies.” Quinn handed her a tin. “Fresh baked. Double fudge. Soft and gooey.”

“Baked with guilt?”

Quinn sighed. “You’re still mad.”

“I’m still mad,” Tilly confirmed. She looked back at the class, relieved to find no one paying them any attention. Her voice lowered, she said, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Dylan, about why he left, why he stayed gone, what happened to him . . . None of it.”

Quinn’s eyes were solemn and apologetic. “I only knew for a few weeks, and only because I’m nosy as hell. I wanted to tell you, but Mick thought that Dylan would want to tell you everything himself, so I promised Mick—”

“You made a promise to me too—to be my sister—”

“I am your sister,” Quinn said. “If I’d told you back then, you’d have dropped out of school and run halfway across the world to be with him and he would’ve seen that as pity and shoved you away. I didn’t want you hurt, Tilly. You both needed to grow up, and now you have—” Quinn broke off, her eyes widening slightly as she caught sight of something in the classroom. Someone. She grinned. “He’s still in your class,” she whispered. “Dylan.”

Like there was any possibility of mistaking who she was talking about. Tilly glanced at Dylan, had a flashback to the other day in his office when he’d been buried deep inside her, and then got uncomfortably warm. She grabbed Quinn’s hand. “Excuse me a sec, class, I’ll be right back!” And then she tugged Quinn out into the hall and shut the classroom door.

“You didn’t kick him out,” Quinn said.

Ignoring her sister’s smug and annoying grin, she counted to five for patience. None came. “Look,” she said, reaching out to rub Quinn’s huge belly. “You’re ready to pop. What the hell are you doing here?”

“That’s not the right question,” Quinn said.

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

“Nope.” Quinn lifted her phone and snapped a pic of Tilly. “The right question is, why are you all flushed and bright-eyed?” She showed Tilly the pic of herself.

Dammit. She was indeed flushed and bright-eyed. “Maybe I’m enjoying teaching.” She paused. “A lot,” she admitted.

Quinn gasped, a hand to her heart as joy filled her expression. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tilly narrowed her eyes. “Wait—what are you doing?”