Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk #3) - Samantha Young Page 0,42
mom had said tonight and everything that had come before. I swiped angrily at a tear that slipped by my defenses. “It wasn’t so bad when I was a kid. At least I didn’t notice it so much. But the older I got, the more she singled me out. I don’t remember her coming down on Darragh, Davina, or Dermot like this. I mean, as far as she’s concerned, Dar and Davi are the best. They both went to college, they’re both doing jobs that will eventually make them good money—hopefully. Dillon can do no wrong in my mom’s eyes, so the fact that my sister will probably struggle financially as a beautician for the rest of her life doesn’t even seem to register with Mom. It’s apparently a practical skill set to have.” I rolled my eyes. “And Dermot … my God, my brother has moved from job to job, before settling on the police academy. And we’re all holding our breaths on that one. But did my mom come down on him throughout all those years? No. It was all ‘Don’t worry about him, Cian, our boy will find his way.’
“While me …” I gave a snort of bitter laughter. “I’m wasting my life. MassArt is a waste of time. I’m not special enough to make a career out of my creativity.”
“She said that?” He glared at me.
I nodded. “She’s said that to me my whole life. When I wanted to try out for gymnastics, she told me there was no point, because I was too chubby as a kid. When I wanted to join the school choir, she laughed and told me I was tone deaf, so I didn’t bother. When my art teacher put my portfolio forward for a regional award, and I won …” I bit back more tears as I remembered. “She, uh … she looked at the award and said, ‘Wow, I guess they were short on talent this year.’” I know she said it to dissuade me from art and not because she meant it, but it stung.”
“Jesus fuck.” Michael looked disgusted.
I wiped away another tear. “My dad lost his shit with her and wouldn’t talk to her until she apologized. Which she did. But I knew underneath she was mad at me about that too.”
“What she said isn’t right, Dahlia.”
I nodded. “One night we were arguing about my boyfriend at the time. I was sixteen, and I stupidly left condoms in my bedside table. She found them and went off about me having sex. That, I don’t blame her for. I get it now, but I didn’t then. So we had this huge argument, and I asked her if I was even her kid. If Dad had cheated on her and I was the result, and she hated me for it? I have never seen her so pissed. I thought she was going to hit me, she was so fuckin’ mad. Instead, she grabbed my hairbrush and said she’d do a DNA test to prove that my worthless ass was unfortunately hers.” I exhaled shakily, the old confusion rolling over me when I told him. “Later that night I overheard her crying in her bedroom. My dad was comforting her because she wasn’t mad at me. She was mad at herself … that she had made me feel like I wasn’t her kid.
“So she knows.” More salty tears rolled down my cheeks. “She knows what she’s doing, Michael. She can’t seem to help herself, and I don’t get it.”
He’d not let go of my hand since he’d first taken it, and he squeezed it now. “Have you thought about asking your dad?”
“I’m afraid if I do, I’ll cause problems between them. My parents love each other. Like, so much. I want what they have. And I adore my dad, Michael. He’s the best guy ever. I don’t want to put him in the position where he feels like he’s in a war between his kid and his wife. I need to get out of there. I think once I have my own place, my relationship with her will get better.”
Michael nodded. “You could be right. My life is better now I’m out of my parents’ house.”
I knew from Gary that Michael had followed in his dad’s footsteps to be a cop, but I’d picked up on little things Michael had said over the last few months and I suspected his family life hadn’t been great. “You’re not close with your dad,