Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk #3) - Samantha Young Page 0,9
belonged there. “Mike, who is this?”
Mike? My family called him Mike too, but I hated shortening such a beautiful name to something as ordinary as Mike.
“Uh, Kiersten, this is Dahlia. She’s Dermot’s little sister.”
Dermot’s little sister? Really? What a joke.
The blond replied, “I thought she died.”
Pain lashed through my chest, and Bailey grasped for my hand under the table. The words made me look at the blond now. She was small, slender. Petite. And she would have been pretty if she wasn’t wearing such a pinched expression on her face. My eyes flew to Michael. He’d told this person about Dillon. Who was she that she was important enough to know about Dillon but not important enough to know about me? Or was it that I was no longer important enough?
His grim expression caused the emotion in my throat to tighten. “That was Dillon.”
The name cracked around the room like a gunshot, and I could feel my chest compress with panic. Little black dots covered my eyes, and I knew I was going to freak out in front of him.
No way.
I couldn’t.
I might as well rip open my chest and ask everyone to look at all the little missing pieces of my heart.
“I need to go.” I stood, leaving Bailey no choice but to release my hand. Eyes down, terrified to meet his, I marched by Michael Sullivan and his blond faster than I’d ever moved in my life.
“Dahlia!” he called out as I hurried down the steps. The exit seemed so far away.
I heard Bailey’s voice and then the deep rumble of Michael’s, but I yanked open the door without paying too much attention to them.
I was out.
The salty ocean air filled my lungs as I hurried down the boards. Fear of him chasing after me made my heart pound and I ran. I ran through the light summer crowd of tourists, the soles of my tennis shoes gathering small granules of wayward sand that always made its way onto the boards from the beach.
The light, warm breeze blew through my long hair, and I ran as if the devil himself were chasing me all the way to my store.
That panic, that terror, didn’t leave me until I’d locked the door behind me. I didn’t flip the “Open” sign from “Closed for Lunch.” I didn’t turn on the lights. Instead, I scurried into the back of the store to my workshop where the demons of the past tried to overwhelm me for the first time in years.
The truth was they’d never left me.
Michael’s sudden appearance had merely woken them up.
My hands shook as silent, dry sobs wracked my body. I looked around my workshop, searching for relief, for something that would dull the pain. Shaking, I fumbled for my apron and pulled it on. Then I connected my phone to the speaker in my workshop, hit Spotify, and The Vaccines blasted into the room.
Sitting down at my bench, I stared at the silver-and-amethyst earrings I was in the middle of making. They were elongated silver cats with amethysts for eyes. Bending over, I worked, trying to drown out my thoughts.
I could hide from Michael until he left Hartwell. Simple.
His reappearance had been a shock.
Life had kicked me in the gut that day, but I knew I’d be okay as soon as he was gone.
After all, time and distance had worked before. They would work again.
Hartwell, Delaware
Present Day
A fire crackled in the fireplace in Emery’s bookstore, a delicious reprieve from the cold October day outside. By mid-October, the overcast days brought low temperatures to the boardwalk, and although we were open all year round, this was the beginning of our quiet season.
Thankfully, my shop brought in enough profit (as all of our businesses did) during the spring and summer to keep me going through the quiet season. I also made and sold my jewelry to boutiques around the country, so that supplemented my income. The good thing about the quiet season was more opportunities for my friends and me to grab coffees at Emery’s and catch up on our lives. The bookstore/coffeehouse was empty except for me, Emery, Bailey, and Jessica.
Jess checked her watch.
Emery put a plate of cookies on the table in front of us, the many silver bangles on her wrist jingling with the action, and then settled in the armchair closest to the fire.
“Got somewhere to be?” I asked Jess.
“Ach, it’s a habit.” She sighed. “I’m constantly checking my watch during the week. I forget this is