“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?”
“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.”