"You knew we were going over to fix the graffiti."
She tried to escape the conversation by retreating to the living room, but the kids had run upstairs, and Iris followed her. Callum was visible through the window, standing on the front porch on a phone call.
Jilly busied herself picking up the ripped wrapping paper strewn across the floor.
"You told me he was a grumpy recluse who didn't want you over there. That's not what it looked like when you were cuddling out in the yard."
"He tackled me!"
But Iris shot her a look that said just what she thought about that excuse, and Jilly stuffed more paper in her trash bag, face hot.
When they'd been tangled together on the ground, she'd thought things about Noah that she had no business thinking.
Things like how she wanted to kiss him again.
"Noah needs a friend," she muttered. This time she punched the trash into the bag.
"Says who?" Iris asked. "Seems to me like you being his friend means you stay isolated out here. I haven't seen you in two weeks."
She turned away from Iris to fetch a ball of paper caught in the branches of the overloaded Christmas tree. "We've been busy." Busy painting Noah's house and going to visit Honey Bear. Guilt slashed through Jilly. She’d been avoiding her sister because she didn't want her to know about the doctor's visit.
But Iris had been worrying over her baby since she'd learned she was pregnant. Jilly was her best friend. She'd probably needed a listening ear, and Jilly hadn't been there for her.
She stood up, trash bag in hand, ready to apologize.
But Iris's cheeks were flushed with temper, her mouth set in a stubborn line. "I'm trying to warn you, Jilly. This isn't like you."
Jilly's own temper sparked in response. Like Iris hadn't been distracted when Callum had come back to Sutter's Hollow and they'd fallen in love all over again? What right did she have to say that to Jilly?
"What isn't like me? Having compassion on someone who needs a friend?" Okay, that might be taking it a tad too far. She'd sort of barged in on Noah from the start. "Being a mom when I can barely remember having one?"
Iris's expression softened slightly, but Jilly wasn't done.
"Maybe the reason you think I'm changing or keeping secrets is because you've never wanted to see the real me. You've been too wrapped up in your own life. I'm doing this by myself. Those kids aren't easy."
Iris went pale, the color in her cheeks standing out. She looked devastated, but Jilly turned away.
And saw PJ at the top of the stairs, eyes wide and hurt.
"PJ—"
Before she could even start up the stairs after him, Lindsey and her friends thundered down the hall and then the stairs.
"Can we have more ice cream?" Lindsey asked.
When Jilly looked up the stairs, PJ was gone.
Crap.
She did not need another meltdown right now. This one would be all her fault.
"Let me go check on your brother," she told Lindsey.
There was a chorus of "aw!" and Lindsey's lower lip was suddenly trembling.
"But I didn't have any with my cake," she whispered.
And Iris was there, tight-lipped. "I'll dish out some ice cream."
