A Wedding on Lilac Lane Hope Ramsay (general ebook reader TXT) 📖

Dylan hadn’t asked Ella to keep it a secret, and when she’d refused to join him in the plan, he’d fully expected her to go off and tattle to her mom. But she hadn’t. Why?

And why on earth would Brenda ever think that her daughter had purposefully clocked him with that breakfast tray?

In a cogent instant, he understood. With a mother like that, Ella had probably spent her whole life being careful about the things she said out loud.

“I give up,” Dad said under his breath, as if to confirm Dylan’s worst fear. He hated the idea of his father having to run interference between Ella and Brenda all the time.

But someone had to do it, because blaming Ella for the breakfast tray mishap was unfair. He stood there for a moment to see if anyone would follow Ella, but Dad just shook his head and wandered back into the bedroom.

Well, hell. Someone needed to go after her, so he headed toward the condo’s front door. He wasn’t able to easily slip between the appliance guys, like Ella had done. She was small and agile and had moves like a star running back.

He had to wait a minute before he could slip past the delivery guys. By then Dad and Brenda were fussing at each other in the bedroom. He was glad to get away from that scene. All this drama was making his bruised head ache.

Luckily, Ella hadn’t gone far. He found her not more than half a block away, leaning up against Bayview Vistas’ front facade, sobbing.

Dammit. Tears undid him. They made him itchy and uncomfortable.

He fought against the burn in his throat. “Hey,” he said, taking a tentative step forward.

“Oh my god,” she replied when she turned toward him. She straightened, her shoulders going rigid. “You.”

Her red nose and puffy eyes made him want to head for the hills. He didn’t want to get emotionally involved, but then again, he’d still followed after her to make sure she was okay.

He needed to man up and face the fact that he bore some responsibility for the devastation written on her face. The woman needed a brotherly hug.

“Come on,” he said gently, reaching out to take her shoulders.

She whirled away from him. “What the hell, Dylan. Did you tell them I hit you on purpose?”

“Of course not. I told you on Thursday when you apologized for the fifteenth time that I didn’t blame you.”

“Great, then you could do me a favor and go tell your dad the truth. The whole truth. Because he seems to think I injured you on purpose, and no one believes you really want to break them up.” Her voice got thin, and water streamed out of her eyes. “And, by the way, I didn’t know I gave you a concussion. I feel so bad about that. I…crap.” She hid her face in her hands.

He was seriously allergic to crying people, so the urge to hug her came as a total surprise. This time when he moved in to provide comfort, she didn’t pull away. “I accept your apology. I accept all of them. It was an accident, and I’m fine.” He pulled her into his arms.

She leaned against him, hiccuping and getting snot all over his old T-shirt. He stood there being her human snot rag while half a dozen Bayview Vista residents passed by. Most of them scowled at him, and he accepted their censure with equanimity.

On the other hand, he didn’t quite know what to make of the people who beamed at him. What was up with that?

Ella finally stopped bawling and pulled away, dashing tears from her red cheeks. “Thanks,” she muttered, staring at her feet.

“It wasn’t anything.”

She looked up. “No?”

He jammed his hands into his pockets. He should go now, but he didn’t want to go. He wanted to solve the problem that was Ella McMillan. “Why do you take all the world’s troubles on your shoulders?” he asked.

“What are you talking about?”

He didn’t exactly know how to explain the thought that had wormed its way into his slightly shaken brain. “You apologize for stuff that’s not your fault.”

“But dropping the tray was my fault. I mean, I shouldn’t have put that many plates on it, and I shouldn’t have let that jerk at the table rattle me and make me walk too fast, and I—”

“I’m not talking about the tray. I’m talking about everything. I heard what you just said about tiptoeing around. That’s what you do. You didn’t tell your mother about my plans to break them up because you didn’t want to rock the boat. You didn’t want to make her angry. You didn’t want—”

“Stop, okay? Look, thanks for the shoulder, but I’m not going to dish dirt on my mother, even if she ticked me off a minute ago. And just because I got angry with her doesn’t mean you should use my anger to your advantage. I’m not going to help you break them up. Mom loves your father. And I’m kind of ashamed that I yelled at him. I should apologize.”

“For what? Speaking the truth?”

“No, for getting so angry. It wasn’t his fault.” She sighed and glanced back toward the condo’s entrance. “I just don’t feel like facing them right now.”

“Then don’t.”

“I don’t need your approval.”

“I wasn’t giving approval. I was validating your feelings.”

She cocked her head. They might as well have been speaking two different languages.

“Look, can you do me two favors?” she asked.

“I’m at your service,” he said, trying not to show any amusement. A few days ago, she wouldn’t have asked anything of him. Maybe they did have a future as stepsiblings.

“First, you can tell them that I didn’t hurt you on purpose. They will believe you. And second, you can give my apologies to Granny. I’m going back to the inn, and I’m taking a long bath and maybe a short nap. And then I’ve got a gig.”

“You have a gig?”

“Yeah. At the inn. I’m playing at the afternoon