Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk #3) - Samantha Young Page 0,106

have a good dad to talk with. I’m here when he needs that.”

Emotion clogged my throat. God, I loved my father. “I’m glad he has you.”

“Yeah, well, I think he needs something a bit closer to home right now.”

Concern filled me. “What’s going on?”

“He’s frustrated, and he’s exhausted. I thought you might want to check on him.”

I chewed my bottom lip, staring at the drawing of me that Levi had sent. I’d framed and hung it on my workshop wall. He’d put me in a superhero costume. Darragh said Levi had recently gotten into comics.

If Michael needed to talk to someone and I ignored that to protect myself, then what kind of a superhero did that make me? “A pretty shitastic one,” I murmured.

“What?”

I blinked out of my thoughts. “Nothing. Sorry, Dad. Of course, I’ll go check on him.”

“Good. Now, how are you doing?”

“We’re all a little tense around here. I guess we didn’t expect things with the Devlins to escalate to murder.”

“It made national news,” Dad said. “Popular tourist town like Hartwell? Murder of one of its wealthy sons is newsworthy.”

“Which can only add pressure on Michael and Jeff.” I glanced at the clock. It was six o’clock and time for me to close up shop anyway. “When you called him, where was he?”

“At the station from what I could tell.”

“Okay. I’ll head over there now. Thanks for calling and giving me a heads-up.”

“No problem, Bluebell. I’ll check in later.”

We said goodbye, and I quickly tidied my tools and locked up. It was early March and the days were still short. The sun had set as I hurried toward my old Mini. The drive to city hall was a short one, but it was long enough to get my heart pounding in anticipation of seeing Michael.

When would that feeling ever stop?

Parking in the lot at the side of the building, I took the side entrance that led to the main reception of the sheriff’s department. There was no receptionist at the desk, so I walked up the stairs into the open-plan office. Jeff was standing talking to Wendy by the water cooler, and they both looked over at me. Jeff made his way over, and his blue eyes drank me in from head to toe. “Everything okay, Dahlia?”

I nodded, distracted by the busy office behind us. “Everyone’s working long hours these days, huh?”

“We’ve got a killer to catch, and Ian Devlin and his press monkeys constantly on our fucking asses.” Jeff’s response was full of exasperation. He winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re doing great.”

He studied me carefully. “You’re here for Mike.”

Someone should have warned me how awkward it would be talking to an ex-lover about my … well … my other ex-lover. “I wanted to check on him.”

“I sent him home,” Jeff said. “He wasn’t happy about it, but he’s no good to me tired.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure I should go to Michael’s apartment under normal circumstances. I definitely shouldn’t go when he was exhausted.

“As much as it kills me to say this …” Jeff’s lips flattened into a thin line. “You should go to him. He’s taking this a little too personally for my liking.”

I nodded, biting my lip in worry. “And we know it was Freddie who shot Stu?”

Jeff just gave me a look.

I pulled a face. “Right. Civilian. None of my business.”

“You know where Mike lives?”

“I didn’t say I’d go to him.”

“We both know you’re going to him.” Then he relayed Michael’s full address.

“Thanks, Jeff.”

He nodded and then took a step toward me, bending his head to mine. “He’s a good guy, Dahlia. I’m sorry it couldn’t be me, sorrier than I can say, so if it has to be anyone, I’m glad it’s Mike. You deserve that.”

Too many feelings overwhelmed me. I didn’t want Jeff’s blessing, and that’s what he was giving! I didn’t want anyone’s blessing. I wanted to check on Michael, make sure he was okay, and scurry into my cowardly hidey-hole again.

The cartons in my hand contained falafel wraps packed with hummus, salad, and spicy sauce. I had no idea if Michael liked falafel but the deli across from his apartment building sold them, and they smelled amazing.

If he was tired, he was probably hungry too.

I took a deep breath as I stared at his crisp, white-painted front door. “You can do this,” I whispered to myself. “Friends check on each other.” I knocked before I could talk myself out of it.

A few seconds later, I heard his footsteps as he approached the