Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk #3) - Samantha Young Page 0,47

with Dahlia. It hurt too much.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be in tonight, Mike. Your head is somewhere else.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped.

“You’re not. If I were you, I’d sort your head out. Say you’re sick and come back to work tomorrow night.”

That was the problem, wasn’t it? Because it would take more than a goddamn night to sort his head out. It had been eleven years since he’d met Dahlia McGuire, and his head, his heart, had never been the same since.

Something broke inside me after my confrontation with Michael. With my mom, I’d always been able to convince myself that she was partly to blame for my behavior and that her vitriol was not my fault.

However, Michael was a different story. One of the reasons I’d fallen for him was because he was that guy who didn’t judge—he understood that people made mistakes. And he forgave. He forgave Gary for a lot of stuff he’d pulled over the years because he knew that Gary hadn’t had it easy growing up with an abusive single father.

He forgave his mom for never defending him against his dad because he knew it wasn’t in her nature to be confrontational or … brave, really. It hadn’t meant she didn’t love him and so he’d forgiven her.

That he couldn’t forgive me, that he hated me, made me realize the magnitude of what I’d done. How could everyone else forgive me? How could Darragh and Davina? Even Dermot, who had been kind to me when he saw how fucked up I was by the encounter with Michael? He’d taken me back to Dad’s where I’d promptly locked myself in his old room.

Because I couldn’t face Dad.

Out of everyone, my father should be the one who couldn’t forgive me. I’d made him promise he wouldn’t tell my family where I was, and I’d put him in the middle of that. I’d driven a wedge between him and my mother.

I’d … I was the catalyst in his youngest daughter’s death.

Why didn’t he hate me?

Like Michael.

“I do hate you.”

During the car ride home, all I kept thinking was that if I could just hear the voice of someone who loved me, someone I hadn’t hurt, I’d be okay. So I called Bailey. I couldn’t remember much about the conversation, only that she said she wanted to come to Boston and I’d told her no. My selfish crap wouldn’t disturb someone else’s life. Again.

Yet as I laid on the bed in my brothers’ old room, I felt like that twenty-two-year-old all over again. So goddamn lost, I could hardly breathe.

I didn’t know how many times my dad knocked on the bedroom door. The only way I knew hours had passed was by the light that began to break through the curtains.

It had been quiet for a while as I laid in the shadowed room trying to pull all the pieces of myself back together again.

I was stronger than this.

I could do this on my own!

A knock sounded at the door. “Dahlia, someone is here to see you.”

I turned my head, the whisper of my hair across the pillow sounding especially loud to my ears. “Tell them to come back later.”

“Dahlia, it’s me.”

I blinked, wondering if I’d misheard.

“Dahlia?”

Bailey?

I lurched out of bed, dashed across the room, and yanked open the door. Bailey Hartwell stood in the doorway, my dad behind her.

Relief flooded me, and I threw my arms around her, drinking in her unconditional, unafflicted love.

She closed her arms tight around me. “It’s okay,” she promised. “I’m here now.”

Bailey and I sat on the guest bed, the bedroom door wide open, but there was no Dad. I assumed he’d left to give us privacy.

Bailey’s eyes were brimming over with concern. “I think I’d feel better if you were crying. This scary quiet you’ve got going on is somehow more disturbing.”

I ignored that. “How did you get here?”

“Well, I have your keys, so I snooped in your apartment until I found a number for your dad. He gave me the address and told me I was welcome to stay here. Aydan and Vaughn are watching the inn for me, so I’m here as long as you need me.”

I wanted to cry, but the tears had all dried up. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And I’m seriously worried about you.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“He went downstairs. Do you want me to get him?”

“I can’t face him.” I shook my head. “Bailey, why does he forgive me? Why do any of them? If Michael and my mom