The Good Luck Sister (Wildstone #1.5)(18)

“Nothing,” Quinn sniffed.

“You’re crying. There’s no crying in here! There’s no crying in school!”

“I know.” Quinn lifted the hem of her shirt and swiped at her eyes.

Tilly sighed.

“Well, sue me, I’m pregnant, okay? I cry at the drop of a hat! Or at the sight of my beautiful baby sister looking happy for once.”

Tilly searched her pockets for tissues and came up with a napkin.

Quinn blew her nose noisily. “And it’s not just the teaching making you look like that either.”

“Stop trying to make my life a romance novel,” Tilly said. “Romance does not make the world go round.”

“No, but it makes it a better place. Tell me the truth. You still care about him.”

Tilly opened her mouth but Quinn held up a finger. “Look me in the eyes when you attempt to deny it because you’ve never been able to look me in the eyes and lie.”

Tilly looked her in the eyes. “Dammit.”

Quinn smiled. “I thought you were over him?”

“Shut up,” Tilly said without heat. “Now go be pregnant.”

Quinn laughed. “You’re not over him. You like him.”

Yeah. Yeah, she did, and she peered in the narrow window on her classroom door to catch sight of him. His head was bent in concentration with a handful of the students around him working in tandem on their projects.

It was terrifying how easily he fit back into her life and at the thought, her breath quickened. “I’m going to hyperventilate.”

Quinn popped open the tin and shoved a cookie at her. “Here, eat this. It’s impossible to eat one of my perfect cookies and hyperventilate.”

Tilly shoved half a cookie into her mouth.

“See?”

Tilly shook her head. “I’m too broken for this,” she said around a mouthful.

Quinn’s smile faded and she hugged Tilly tight, nearly suffocating her. “Last I checked,” she whispered against Tilly’s jaw, “we’re all a little broken.” She pulled back to look into Tilly’s eyes. “And yet we still live and breathe. And love.”



The sun was just thinking of setting when Tilly watched Dylan pilot the helicopter in for a landing. She sipped from a specialty mug of tea that Ric had made for her and watched through the wall of windows of the hangar as Dylan helped his clients from the chopper, who surprised her by being two kids and their families.

“They’re Make-A-Wish kids,” Penn said, coming up beside her, looking out the window. “Dylan made it happen.”

She watched as he ruffled one of the kids’ hair. The kid lifted his arms and Dylan obliged, picking him up, swinging him up onto his shoulders as they walked around the helicopter. Dylan pointed out some things and then the next kid got the exact same treatment.

“He’s showing them his post-flight check,” Penn said. “He’s got this thing, especially after his injury and losing his dream.” Penn met her gaze in the reflection of the window. “He likes to show kids you can come back from that and still fly, or whatever the hell it is you dream of.”

The clients came in and Penn moved to greet them, effortlessly working his charismatic, charming host gig while Tilly watched Dylan conduct another post-flight check.

By the time he came in, hair tousled and cheeks reddened from the wind chill, dark aviator sunglasses covering his eyes, leather jacket stretched taut over broad shoulders, she’d forgotten what she’d come to say to him. All she wanted to do was get his mouth back on hers.

At the sight of her standing there, he pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, his gaze surprised. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He eyed her mug of tea and his gaze flicked to the hallway of the offices, where Ric stood. “For such a hardened war hero, you’re an old lady, you know that?”

Ric just toasted him with his own mug of tea. “Takes one to know one, man.” And then he was gone.

Dylan turned the full force of his attention on Tilly. “It’s nice to see you,” he said. “But what are you doing here?”

She pulled her lower lip in between her teeth and contemplated him. “Truth?”

“Always.”

She drew a deep breath. “I came to discuss . . . what happened between us.”

“Okay.” His brown eyes were warm and curious. He was willing to listen to her.

Which was more than she could say for herself. At the thought, and against her own better sense, she felt herself soften. “I have questions,” she said.

“Ask,” he said easily. “I’ll answer anything you’ve got.”

She set down her tea and took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were leaving and why. You knew I’d understand.”

He hesitated.

“You said anything,” she reminded him.

“I’m trying, but the truth is—and was—that you couldn’t possibly have understood. I didn’t, not even when it was happening to me.”

She crossed her arms. “You didn’t even try me,” she said tightly.

He blew out a breath. “I wanted to make something of myself, and the sole reason I wanted that was because of you. You made me believe in myself enough to go for the astronaut dream. I didn’t get there though.”