“No,” Tilly said. “No, no, no . . . there’s no crying allowed in the hospital. It’s a rule, I swear it!”

“Are you okay?” Quinn demanded.

“Yeah.” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about your car.”

“Forget the car,” Quinn said and hugged her tight.

So tight she couldn’t draw in air. “Um, you’re squeezing me pretty tight—”

Quinn’s arms tightened even more.

“Okay,” Tilly squeaked out and patted Quinn awkwardly on the back. “Okay, but I. Can’t. Breathe—”

“I was worried sick about you!”

Over Quinn’s shoulder, Tilly met Dylan’s gaze, the one that said I told you so. She tried to sigh but couldn’t draw a breath. “No, really, I don’t need any air or anything—”

“Do you have any idea what could have happened?” Quinn demanded, voice quivering. “You could’ve—” When she broke off, clearly unable to speak, the reality of the situation hit Tilly.

Quinn had lost Beth in a car accident. The loss had devastated her, and now Tilly’s stupidity and selfishness had brought back all the pain and horror and shock.

She was the biggest jerk on the planet, and knowing it, wrapped her arms around Quinn and returned the hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry for . . .” Well, everything. But before she could say it, a nurse bustled in, doing her nurse thing.

After checking Tilly for what felt like the thousandth time, she said, “I’m getting your release papers ready. We’ve got some paperwork to go over.”

It was an hour and a half before they actually got to leave. Then they spent another half an hour at the pharmacy.

The car ride home was tense.

Quinn had said very little after hugging Tilly tight enough to crack her ribs. She was vibrating with tension and emotions though, and Tilly wished she’d just let them loose but had no idea how to make that happen.

Chuck dropped them off at the house, where they found Mick waiting for them on the porch. Mick hugged both Quinn and Tilly, and they went inside, Mick moving to the kitchen to give them some privacy.

Quinn stood in the living room and tossed her purse to the coffee table before putting her hands on her hips and staring down at her shoes.

Tilly stood there uncertainly. She wanted to sneak away to her bedroom, pull the covers over her head, and wait for her mom to come bring her hot chocolate.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

Quinn finally seemed to find her words. “Running away is never the answer, Tilly.”

Tilly was smart enough to know that already, but she wasn’t smart enough to keep her mouth shut. “You ran away from L.A. and your parents.”

Quinn gaped at her like a fish for a moment. “I didn’t run away! I ran to something. To someone, as a matter of fact. A someone who doesn’t seem to give a shit.”

Tilly’s stomach hit her toes. “I—”

“Oh, no. You had your chance to speak and you chose to open a can of worms, so let’s do this,” Quinn said. Actually, yelled. She was totally yelling. And also crying, which made Tilly feel like the biggest asshat on the planet.

“Maybe you don’t realize it,” Tilly said. “But you’re talking in all caps.”

“Do you think this has been easy for me?” Quinn pressed a hand to her own chest. Or at least that’s what Tilly thought she said, but Quinn was an open-mouthed crier and it was getting harder and harder to understand her.

“I know nothing about raising someone! But I’m trying, okay? And I get that I fail a lot, but I’m not going anywhere. You hear me, Tilly? I get that I’m not Carolyn, not even close, but you know what? I’m willing to try for second best because sometimes that’s just how life works. But you have to meet me halfway.”

Tilly opened her mouth but Quinn jabbed a finger at her and kept talking. “I never got to ask Carolyn questions, and I have questions, Tilly. I mean, did she also have one foot that was half a size bigger than the other? Or get murderous urges during PMS? And how about love, huh? Did she suck at it as badly as I do, because . . .”

The rest of that sentence was lost behind the crying, but it sounded like “and now I can’t even afford to fix that damn shower and I really need more hot water!”

Okay, she’d totally sent her sister over the edge. Completely over the edge. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Quinn stopped talking and crying to blow her nose, and then she . . . walked away. She went down the hallway and a minute later her bedroom door slammed shut.

Which was shocking because Quinn never slammed doors. She never lost her shit at all and Tilly was standing there wondering what the hell to do when Mick appeared at her side.

“Come to the kitchen,” he said.

“But Quinn—”

“—needs a moment.” Without another word he moved back to the kitchen.

With a sigh, Tilly followed him.

Mick pushed a mug across the counter toward her.

Hot chocolate.

She blinked away tears and that’s when she saw the ingredients . . . everywhere. Bowls, mixer, eggs, milk . . . Flour was tipped over and spilled out across the counter and floor, like someone had knocked it over in a rush.

“That was Quinn,” Mick said quietly. “She dropped everything to get to the hospital the second she got the call.”

She lifted her shocked gaze to his. “Why was she baking? She cooks all day. Baking is the last thing she’d want to do.”

“She signed your guardianship papers,” Mick said. “She wanted to surprise you with a cake.”

“But she hates to bake.”

He just looked at her.

She closed her eyes. “She said she was going to L.A.”

“Yes. To tell her parents she was moving to Wildstone. To stay.”

Tilly was stunned.

“And because you’re a minor and you don’t have a license,” Mick went on, speaking kindly but not sugar-coating it, “and because she signed those papers, you’re her responsibility. And that includes legally. She could be in trouble for you driving underage and without a license, and be held liable for all damages.”

And still, Quinn’s first and only concern had been for Tilly. About getting to her. Seeing her with her own eyes. “But it wasn’t her fault,” Tilly whispered past a throat that felt like she’d swallowed shards of glass. “Isn’t there anything that can be done?”

“Yes,” Mick said, not pulling punches. “To soften the blow for herself, Quinn could have you charged with stealing her car.”

Tilly was pretty sure she was going to pass out. She gripped the counter and stared at the spilled flour.

Mick gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “But we both know that Quinn would never in a million years do anything like that to you. Or at least I’m hoping you know that.”

Tilly nodded. Because she did know it.

“Do you know why?” Mick asked.

“Because she loves me,” Tilly whispered.

“She does.” There was a smile in his voice. “Although once the dust settles, she might be a little pissed about not having a car to sell. She’d planned on using the money from it to update this house and the café.”