Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk #3) - Samantha Young Page 0,37

me.”

“What?” I shook my head, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid, Dahlia. You’re the reason our marriage fell apart. You’re the reason my life turned to shit!”

Suddenly, I was twenty-two again, hurtling back in time. “You still blame me for Dillon?”

“No one is saying that.” Dermot stepped between us. “But you left when we needed to stick together, and it fucked us all up. You need to take responsibility for that.”

I agreed. “I do. I have. That’s why I’m here. But that’s not why she’s here.” I looked past him to my mom. “Dad confronted you about what you said and did to me before I left, didn’t he?”

That’s what he’d been stewing over for days.

“What?” Dermot looked at Mom. “What did you say? What did you do?”

She didn’t take her eyes off me. “The truth.”

I flinched like she’d slapped me. Again. “I’m sorry that he’s mad about that, but I needed them to know why I didn’t just leave.”

“You should have stayed gone.”

“Wait … I’m confused.” Dermot frowned. “What is she talking about?”

Mom’s gaze softened on him. “What we’ve always talked about. That’s she to blame, and she’s manipulative, and she should have stayed gone.”

Dermot shook his head. “That’s not what we talked about.” He turned, glaring at me. “What the fuck are you talking about? What did you tell Dad? More lies?”

I narrowed my eyes on my gullible brother who ran to take Mom’s side in every family argument growing up. Just like Dillon had. “I started to drink after Dillon … after Dillon died.”

He curled his lip. “We’re fully aware of how badly you handled Dillon’s death.”

I glared at him. “I didn’t start drinking just because of Dillon.”

“Oh, here we go.” Mom pushed past Dermot. “You’re going to lay that fuckin’ mistake at my feet too?”

Staring up at her in horror, I wondered how it was possible that this was my mother. How the woman who had given birth to me, raised me, comforted me when I was hurt, could hate me this much? Tears filled my eyes, and I despised myself for the weakness. “Everyone was out. It was just you and me in the house, and you found me in the bedroom. You attacked me.” The memory flashed over me, and I could still feel the burn of her slaps. “You started slapping me.”

Dermot pulled in a breath behind Mom.

“You kept telling me I was selfish. That it should have been me.” The tears scalded my cheeks. “It should have been me, you said. Why did God take the wrong kid, you said.”

“Jesus fuck,” my brother whispered.

I swiped angrily at my tears as I saw my mother’s eyes brighten with her own. “I didn’t know how to deal with that … to have my mom hate me so much … So yeah, I drank to cope. I’m not proud of myself. I’m not proud that Dad had to send me away from everything that happened here. And I’m not proud that I stayed away because I was so afraid to face you again. Not because of you”—I shook my head at her as I realized I would never get the reassurance I needed from her—“but because I hurt them. The family that still loved me.” I looked past her shoulder to Dermot, who had gone chalk white. “I’m sorry I abandoned you,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

A deathly silence filled the room.

Dermot stared at Mom in accusation.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Mom whispered.

“Is it true?” he grunted, like he could hardly get the words out. “Did you do that to her?”

My mom was quiet for a while and then she whispered tearfully, “She ruined your sister’s life.”

“Mom, you know that’s not true.”

“You all can’t see it, but it’s true. And Dill—” Mom sobbed. “She was my little girl. God took my little girl.”

“And what about Dahlia?” Dermot retorted. “She’s your kid too, Mom.”

“No. She was never mine. She was always his. God would take mine, wouldn’t he? Story of my fuckin’ life.”

“I can’t …”

I turned to see my brother glaring incredulously at her.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You made it seem like you were angry at her for leaving. Not for coming back!”

“Don’t.” Mom hurried over to him, cupping his face. “My whole life has fallen apart, and it’s her fault. Don’t let her take you too.”

Dermot shook his head, yanking her hands from his face. “Mom,” he said, “that’s so fucked up. That’s so fucked up. You need to see