Heartland (True North #7) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,71

before hurrying toward Ellie, who looks about ready to pass out again.

The truck doesn’t move yet, though. Dylan will wait and watch and make sure we get inside. He’ll be my friend and my algebra tutor and he’ll spring me out of jail.

But he won’t be my boyfriend. And that’s just the way it is.

Twenty-Six

Dylan

It rips me up to watch Chastity walk away from me, and I don’t know why. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve broken something precious.

Life is full of little moments that don’t matter a whole lot, peppered by a few moments when everything is on the line. Like when your best friend gets a little carried away and asks you to tutor her in sex.

Or when your father asks you to come straight home from school and help him wrestle a tire off the tractor. And when you don’t, he dies.

Some mistakes can never be fixed. But when it comes to Chastity, at least I have a shot. So I drive back to the catering kitchen, park my truck, and go back inside.

“Dyllie!” Keith shouts. “Look at this fucking beautiful caramel! Who knew I was a candy genius!” He points to a tray of cooling caramel, and I hurry over to see how he’s done.

There’s one crystallized bit near the corner, but otherwise it looks fantastic. “Dude, yes! Thank you. Where are we?” I pull the hairnet out of my pocket.

“We got two more on the burners, and the earliest batch is in the fridge.” He yawns. “Can we call it quits after that? You’re down to two quarts of milk, anyway.”

“Sure,” I say, wondering if that first batch is cool enough to cut yet. I might be here all night, but after the last batches come off the stove, I can let everyone else go home. “You want to wash up the measuring stuff and then bounce?” I offer. “You’ve been a big help to me.”

“I’ll stay,” he says with a shrug. “It’s too late to find a party, anyway.”

“Thanks, man.”

“You’ll play another gig with me sometime, right?” he asks. “I’m kinda counting on it.”

“I totally will,” I promise. Because Keith is one of the cool people, too.

By three a.m. it’s just me and Daphne, sitting at a table and tucking caramels into candy cups, and candy cups into boxes.

“How are you going to get all of these home?” she asks.

“Plastic bins from K-Mart,” I tell her. “They’re in the back of my truck.”

“Impressive,” she says, although it sounds grudging. Daphne doesn’t like to show me any praise. She’s the tiger, and I’m the slacker, and it’s been this way since the day we were born.

I came out first, but that was literally the last time I outperformed Daphne at anything.

“So why are you here this weekend?” I ask now, because I promised Griffin I would. “Do you have a secret boyfriend?”

Daphne snorts. “No. I’m just here to visit with someone in my field.”

That’s how she speaks—like a career academic. I haven’t even chosen a major yet. “Like, a professor?”

“A PhD candidate in public health,” she says. “She used to be at Harkness, but she left last year.”

“Oh.” I tuck the last caramel into a box and then close the lid and reach for the next box. “What else is going on with you, then?”

“Nothing.” She grabs another box and sighs. “Did Griffin tell you to ask?”

I laugh out loud. “Maybe.”

“You’d think he’d have enough to worry about without digging around in my business.”

“You’d think,” I agree. “But he thinks something is up with you. Why is that?”

My sister shrugs. “It’s nothing either of you can solve. But thank you for asking.”

“Okay,” I say quietly. “But if you change your mind, I wouldn’t tattle to Griffin.”

“Noted,” she says. “So what’s up with you and Chastity?”

“Oh, so you don’t share the shitty things you do, but I’m supposed to?”

“Who says I did anything shitty?” She eyes me over the box she’s folding. “Did you?”

“Well, sure. Just the usual, though—having fun without stopping to think of the consequences.”

“And what are the consequences?” she asks. “You’re not dumb enough to get her pregnant, right?”

“No!” I yelp. “Jesus. Bite your tongue.”

“Sorry,” she says, plunking caramels into the box. “So what’s the problem?”

“It’s…” I hesitate, because I’m not willing to violate Chastity’s privacy. “She doesn’t deserve a random hookup. And that’s the only kind I ever have. So now it’s just really awkward.”

“She wants a boyfriend?” my sister asks, studying me.

“Possibly,” I hedge. “We didn’t, uh, actually have that