“Quinn—”
“Do you think I don’t want to come home? Because I do, badly. But I can’t, okay? Not yet. I’m not going to just leave her here.”
Tilly took a step back, and then another. No one was making any decisions for her, no one. Nor would she be dragged to L.A. Her heart was pounding so hard that at first she didn’t register the fact that Quinn had gotten out of her car and waved at her, clearly completely unaware that Tilly had just overheard her.
“Come on,” Quinn said, smiling like she was Tilly’s friend. “What took you so long?”
Tilly got into the car and stared out her passenger window.
“Well hi to you too,” Quinn said.
“Can you just drive?” Tilly knew she was being a complete bag of dicks but she couldn’t muster up the capacity to care.
Quinn sighed and started the car. Tilly didn’t pay any attention to where they were going until Quinn turned off the car and she realized they were at the beach.
Since it was dusk, cloudy, and barely seventy degrees, there wasn’t another person in sight. Quinn pulled out her keys, grabbed a bag, and got out of the car. Without looking back, she started walking down to the water.
Tilly let out a rude sound of disbelief. Who did she think she was, just walking away like that without a word? And why would she assume Tilly even wanted to come here? She sat there stewing in her own negativity for a few more minutes, amusing herself by making a list of everything she hated.
The beach.
Her sister.
Her mom.
Chuck.
Cliff.
Girls who selfied all day long.
Girls with perfect hair.
Science.
Cooking.
Mrs. Bazio.
After a few minutes she ran out of things to hate and she got bored. She could barely see Quinn now, she’d sat on the sand, close to the water. Which was dumb because the tide was going to start rising and she’d ruin her really cute sandals.
“Dammit,” Tilly said to the car and got out. She walked to where Quinn sat staring out at the water. “You’re going to get wet.”
Quinn shrugged.
She looked . . . sad. Like, really sad. Tilly sighed again and sat at her side. She played with the sand, running it through her fingers, letting the sound of the pounding surf ease her busy mind. “Do you miss L.A.?” she finally asked Quinn.
“Some.”
Tilly’s stomach hurt at that. As soon as Quinn decided she missed L.A. enough, she’d be gone. “What’s your life there like?”
Quinn looked surprised at the question. “Well . . . I work a lot.”
“At the fancy restaurant.”
“It’s fancy on the outside, yeah,” Quinn said. “But on the inside, it’s not nearly as nice as the café.”
Tilly snorted. “Right.”
“I meant on the inside, inside,” Quinn said and put her hand to her heart. “The feeling you get standing in the kitchen there is very different from the feeling you get standing inside Caro’s Café.”
“Probably because there’s no Greta yelling at you.”
Quinn laughed at that. Laughed until she snorted and then laughed some more. The kind of laugh that might really be crying, and Tilly’s heart felt tight. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I’m sorry that my mom gave you away.” She shook her head. “I don’t get it, to be honest. She wasn’t like that.”
Quinn nodded but didn’t say anything.
After sitting in silence for several minutes, listening and watching the waves, Tilly admitted something else that had been bothering her. “I’m mad at her too.”
Quinn turned her head and met her gaze. “For what?”
“Dying.”
Quinn let out a breath and reached for Tilly’s hand.
“And for not telling me as soon as she knew she was sick,” Tilly added. “For not telling me about you.” She shrugged. “For a lot of things, I guess.” She put her free hand to her chest. “I’m so angry it hurts.”
Quinn squeezed her fingers gently. “She really had planned to tell you about me. Cliff told me that, and he seems like a man who values the truth.”
Tilly swiped angrily at the few tears that had leaked out. “Or a man who just wants to smooth things over.”
Quinn turned back to the water. “And Chuck? He’s really a good guy?”
“Yeah.” Tilly shrugged. “He’s not my dad or anything but . . . well, he’s been more of a dad than anyone else, I guess.”
They stared at each other.
“Did you know him?” Quinn asked. “Our dad?”
Tilly felt an unwanted but undeniable tug of affection for this person she’d thought she hated, who was in the same boat she was. “I saw him once. He came to visit Mom. When he realized I was there, he took off.”
“Maybe it was your sunny sweet nature,” Quinn said.
Tilly, appreciating the dark humor, found a laugh. “No doubt.”
They fell silent again. Quinn went through her bag and came up with two wrapped sandwiches. Grilled turkey from the café.
“Wow, Greta’s getting better,” Tilly said, munching hers.
“They’re mine.” Quinn lifted a shoulder. “I bought avocados. Greta was horrified.”
Tilly laughed. “It’s a kick-ass sandwich. You should add it to the menu.”
Quinn looked pleased. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “I’m failing home ec. Specifically the baking part of home ec.”
Quinn blinked at her and then laughed.
“Not funny,” Tilly said. “If I fail, I have to take Mrs. Bazio for another whole semester and I’d rather—”
She broke off.
Because she’d been about to say she’d rather die.
But suddenly, that saying was no longer funny.
Quinn’s smile faded. “I can help you. Not fail. Even though I suck at baking too.”
Tilly met her gaze. “You do?”
“So much suckage, I can’t even tell you.”
Tilly laughed a little at this odd thing they had in common.
They were silent some more. No sounds other than the relentless waves crashing onto the sand and seagulls making sweeps to see if there were any leftovers.
“So can we put an end to this trial period?” Quinn asked after a long time. “Will you accept me as your guardian?”
Tilly hesitated. She didn’t hate Quinn anymore, but she was pretty certain her sister wouldn’t be sticking around Wildstone. The fact was, staying at Chuck’s wasn’t all that bad, and she had no rules there. Or very few.
She could tell Quinn would have a lot of rules.
The way Tilly figured it, she’d do better with Chuck until she turned eighteen, because if Quinn left, Tilly could get stuck in foster care and she didn’t want that. “I think Chuck needs the money. So I was thinking . . . maybe I could float back and forth.”
Quinn slid her a look. “So you can avoid any sort of real authority?”
Busted. “I wouldn’t stay with him every night or anything, but he needs me to help him cook and stuff sometimes.”
“Tilly,” Quinn said gently. “It’s his job to take care of you, not the other way around.”
“Yeah, well, not everyone is good at that.”
Quinn sighed. “Let’s see how it goes. You’ve got to stay honest with me, okay?”
“Okay, and on the subject of honesty, I’m going camping tomorrow night with my friend Katie and her parents.”
“Says who?”