Things We Never Said: A Hart’s Boardwalk Novel

by Young, Samantha

  She gave me a tremulous smile. “I love you, kiddo.”

  I grinned. “I love you too.”

  Her smile widened, and she opened her mouth to say something else, but Bailey popped up by my side. “Sorry to interrupt but I need to tell you something.”

  “What are you doing?” Dermot appeared behind us.

  We all turned. My brother glared at Bailey.

  Bailey glowered back. “I’m not ambushing her.”

  “This was your idea.”

  “I didn’t think it would work and you gave me very little notice.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Davina scowled at the two of them.

  Bailey swallowed hard and gave me an apologetic look. “Michael is on his way here.”

  “What? Why?” Was the room spinning? Because I was all of a sudden very light-headed.

  “I do hate you.”

  I blinked away the sound of his voice ringing in my head as Bailey replied, “Dermot told me that Michael was there, watching you two leave the station that night and that he looked worried about you. Neither of us believes someone who didn’t care about you would follow you out of the station. Also, hate isn’t a bad thing in this case. The thing you have to worry about is indifference. And it’s clear that Michael is definitely not indifferent to you. So, long story short, I asked Dermot if he thought Michael would turn up for drinks with the family. One last chance at trying to mend the breach, you know.”

  Ugh. How had I forgotten Bailey’s second career as a matchmaker? She’d done this to Jessica and Cooper too. “Bailey …”

  “Thing is—”

  “Thing is”—Dermot ran a hand through his hair, an apology in his hazel eyes—“I didn’t exactly tell him you’d be here.”

  “But one would assume he’d know that you’re here,” Bailey interjected. She met my horrified gaze. “Still, I wanted to give you a heads-up.”

  I glared at my brother to cover the shipwreck of turmoil that was crashing and rolling in my stomach. “But you thought I should feel ambushed?”

  “No, I was just worried you’d leave.”

  I wasn’t going to lie—the instinct to leave was there.

  However, I wasn’t running anymore.

  I looked over at the table where Dad, Astrid, and Darragh were laughing together. “I’m not leaving. If Michael is unhappy with me being here, then he can leave.”

  Then, right on cue, as if we really were magnets drawn to each other, I felt it when he stepped inside the bar. My eyes moved past Dermot toward the door.

  There he was.

  Michael wore the same leather jacket I’d seen him in at my dad’s house, with dark jeans, a dark shirt, and black boots. The only thing different was that he’d shaved.

  Either way, he was so goddamn handsome, it killed me.

  Being at the station with him, in that interview room, so close I could smell his cologne, it had been the worst kind of torture. Until, of course, he’d opened his mouth and gutted me.

  Realizing he wasn’t walking into the bar alone, my already fast beating heart started pumping so hard, I thought it might knock itself out of my chest.

  He’d brought a date.

  She walked confidently at his side. A young, edgy blond with pixie-short hair.

  Why was it always a blond?

  “He brought a fuckin’ date?” my sister snapped under her breath.

  “She looks familiar.” Dermot narrowed his eyes.

  Michael’s gaze landed on us at the bar, and when ours met, his didn’t widen with surprise.

  He knew I’d be here.

  And he’d brought a date.

  Bailey’s hand slipped into mine and she squeezed, but her comfort did nothing to hold back the tide of memories. Of the last time he’d been with someone else instead of me. I doubt he regretted the blond the way he’d regretted it all back then. Memories flooded me, soaring me straight back into the past …

  Massachusetts College of Art & Design,

  Nine and a Half Years Ago

  The sound of hammering filled the workshop as me and my fellow metalsmiths worked on our projects for class. The room was warm from the blowtorches we used for the annealing process (heat treatment on the metals to soften them enough to make them workable), so despite the fall weather, I was in a summer dress and biker boots. Mom had given me a hard time about catching a cold, so I’d thrown my winter coat over the dress. Wearing tights while working for hours in a room where multiple blowtorches were in use might make me sweat to death, so I’d foregone them.

  Thankfully. Otherwise, I’d be like my classmate, Shauna, who had stripped down to the tank top underneath her sweater because she’d been melting in her knit top and jeans. She still was, I noted, seeing the shimmer of sweat above her top lip.

  The heat was worth it to see my jewelry come together. My favorite metal was silver, and I was using it to make a collection for a theater production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It was part of my final project.

  As I hammered the silver frame of the necklace that Titania would wear, I was careful around the inserts where I’d place my peridot gemstones. As a poor student, I couldn’t afford emeralds. Even the much cheaper alternative of peridot was a lot out of my budget, but I was happy with how the stones were turning out for the fairy queen’s jewelry.

  Our teacher, Rita, was pretty relaxed. She wandered around the room giving advice, critique, and praise, but ultimately, we could work in our own space at our own pace.

  Something made the hair on my neck stand on end like someone was watching me. Slowly, I lifted my head and turned toward the doorway.

  The sight of Michael Sullivan standing there in his cop uniform caused a little flip in my belly.

  He jerked his head in a “c’mere” motion.

  Shit.

  Since our confrontation at the diner, Michael had broken up with Dillon. She had been a moody, petulant mess about it, and I was feeling all kinds of contrition. I’d consequently been ignoring Michael’s calls and texts for the last six weeks since their breakup.

  “Can I help?” Rita asked from the front of the room, her eyes on Michael.

  Michael stepped inside the doorway. “I need to speak with Dahlia McGuire.”

  “Oh. Dahlia?”

  I glanced at her.

  If Michael was tracking me down at school while he was clearly on the job, then I guessed he wouldn’t stop hounding me until I spoke with him. As much as I wasn’t ready for it, I knew I needed to get this over with. “Is that okay?”

  “Sure.”

  I got off my stool. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  Rita nodded and turned to another student.

  My legs shaking a little, I ambled toward Michael. His intense regard made me flush.

  Halting in front of him, I was more than a little annoyed about being ambushed. And about how hot he looked in his cop’s uniform. “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

  He scowled. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

  I nodded and brushed past him, hating the tingle of awareness that shot through me as I did. Leading him down the hall, we strode in silence until we came to the photography department. There was a row of lockable darkrooms here. A few were already locked but the second to last opened and although photographs were being processed, the room was empty. I ushered Michael in and closed the door, locking it behind me.

  In the back of my mind, I knew it was a bad idea.

  A horrible idea.

  But it didn’t stop me.

  “A darkroom?” His handsome face was awash in the low red hues of the safelight.

  “No one will disturb us in here. Now, what do you want? And why are you in uniform? Rita probably thinks I’m in trouble, thanks to that getup.”

  Michael’s expression turned incredulous. “I’m in uniform because I’m working. I’m on break, I was in the area, and I thought to myself, ‘I’m going to go see Dahlia to ask her why she’s avoiding my texts and calls
after I broke up with Dillon.’ Six weeks, Dahlia. Six weeks. You want to tell me why you’ve left me hanging for six fuckin’ weeks?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, unable to look at him. “Michael, you know why.”

  “No, I don’t. I dated Dillon for less than three months, and we never had sex.”

  Jealousy and anger at the mere thought of him touching her curdled inside me. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Dahlia …” He stepped toward me, and I stumbled against the door, trying to maintain distance. I heard his exasperated huff. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking dating your little sister, and I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorrier than I can say.”

  That was all well and good, but he’d completely screwed us over. My sister would hate me if I dated him after this and it would be more ammunition for my mom. It would support her opinion that I was selfish and spoiled.

  “Yeah. Me too.” I scrambled for the lock and the door handle.

  “Don’t.”

  His hard body pinned me to the door, chest to chest, as his hand curled around mine to stop my escape. Heat flushed through me, and I forced my whimper of need back down my throat when he pressed his forehead to my temple.

  “I can’t bear it,” he said, his voice gruff. “I can’t bear it if I lose you. I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much. It’s like walking around without an arm.”

  Willing to say anything that would cease the touching, the torture, the temptation, I whispered, “I suppose we could try to be friends again.”

  “Is that why you’re avoiding me? Because you want to be just friends?”

  “Michael, that’s not fair.”

  He turned his head so his cheek was pressed to my cheek, his lips touching my ear. “I love when you say my name. I dream about it. I dream about being with you as you whisper my name.”

  Every part of my body came alive in a flare of ardor like someone had struck several matches across my skin. My breasts seemed to swell against his chest, the nipples tightening into little buds that were probably obvious through my cotton dress.

  And I couldn’t even bear to acknowledge the slick, sudden heat between my legs.

  Why did it have to be him?

  “Michael … we can’t. What about Gary?”

  He lifted his head and our eyes connected. I knew that whatever was between us was more than physical. It was so much more, it hurt. And it had the torturous side effect of making our physical attraction feverish. “He cheated on you. He’s my boy but … This is so much more than what I thought it was, Dahlia. Now he doesn’t get a say in this. He fucked up. I want a chance to do better than him. So much better you’ll never want to let me go.”

  He dipped his head, his lips hovering near mine as his hand traveled up my arm. “I miss you,” he repeated. “You’re all I think about.”

  My eyes burned with tears because I’d never dreamed that I’d feel this way about someone and have him feel the same way. Why did he have to screw it up before we even got a chance? “You hurt Dillon, and she’s my sister.”

  “I’m sorry,” he groaned. “Fuck, I’ve never been sorrier for anything in my whole life. But we’re not talking about some quick fuck here. What we have is worth whatever shit we have to deal with to hold onto it.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t do that to her.”

  Michael pushed off the door and away from me. He glowered, his face taut with frustration. “This isn’t about upsetting Dillon. What she and I did hardly qualified as dating, and you know it. You’re pissed at me for going there in the first place, and now you’re punishing me!”

  Rage flooded me. “Of course, I’m pissed! You pulled my kid sister into our shit!”

  “Our shit? Our shit! This is our lives, our future, we’re talking about, Dahlia.”

  “I just want to know why! Why her? When you knew how I felt about you?”

  “Knew how you felt?” His voice got scarily soft.

  I pressed further against the door, hoping I’d melt into it.

  “That night you called me, and we nearly kissed in the parking lot, who was it that pulled away and said she couldn’t do it? I didn’t pull away and say I couldn’t. I was seconds away from betraying my best friend, and at that moment I didn’t fuckin’ care, if it meant I got to be with you. I took it to mean that even if you were attracted to me, you wanted Gary more. I dated Dillon before I found out about your breakup. She reminded me of you a little. It was fucked up, I know that, but I’ve been fucked up over you for a long time.”

  That heat, the wet, between my legs increased and I could hear how short and shallow my breathing had gotten. “I pulled away that night because of you. Not because of me. I knew what your friendship with Gary meant to you, and I didn’t want to come between you. I didn’t want you to feel that guilt.”

  He was silent a moment. Brooding. Intense. Too sexy for his own good. “And that’s why I feel how I feel for you. But you should know I’ve felt guilty from the moment I realized you were Gary’s girlfriend. Guilty because I resented him for meeting you first. And I tried to make my feelings for you go away.” He shrugged. “But they won’t go away, Dahlia.”

  How was I supposed to resist that?

  How?

  But Dillon, my mom …

  Jesus Christ.

  “Do you want me or not?” he asked.

  I should lie.

  I should send him away.

  But this mindless haze of longing and need was tormenting me past the point of being able to cope. “I’ve always wanted you.”

  A second later, he was on me, his lips crashing down on mine.

  I gasped and lifted my hands to push him away but the taste and feel of him overwhelmed my senses, and I clung to him instead.

  As our tongues touched, he groaned, the sound rumbling down my throat and straight between my legs. My fingers curled tight into his hair, pulling him closer, and his restraint fled. His hands were everywhere like he was frantic to touch every inch of me. When he cupped my breasts and kneaded them, I whimpered as pleasure swirled low in my belly. Michael ground his hips into mine. He was hard.

  A moan of realization was lost in his throat as his kisses grew hungrier and wetter. My body shuddered with need as his hold on me became the only thing that mattered. My hands pulled at his shirt while his slid down my hips. It was the spine-tingling touch of his calloused fingertips on my inner thigh beneath my dress that jolted me. Enough to hear the voice in the back of my head screaming at me to stop him before it was too late. I wanted to push the voice back, desperate for the feel of him inside me but—

  “Michael, stop,” I panted, pushing against his chest.

  He tensed. “Dahlia?”

  All my nerve endings screamed to let him keep going, to let him slide his hand between my legs. I needed that more than I’d ever needed anything.

  However, my sister’s face kept flashing in my head and what I wanted had to supersede my need. It had to. And I wanted to be up-front and honest with my sister about Michael. If I had sex with him and she found out I’d done that before talking to her, I knew she wouldn’t forgive me.

  This way, at least if I were honest and honorable as I could be, maybe she and I would be able to figure things out.

  “Fuck, Dahlia, don’t tell me to stop,” he pleaded.

  I stroked his hair in comfort, maybe more for me than him. Tears of sexual frustration burned in my eyes. I didn’t know until then the horrible sting of unfulfilled lust. If Michael felt half as bad as I did, I was sorry. “We have to.”

  He braced his hands on the wall beside me, his face buried in my neck. Then he kissed me. A soft, sweet kiss to my throat. With a low grunt, he pushed off the wall and rolled away from me.

  A shiver rippled through me as I turned to look at him. He was so handsome.

  Feeling my regard, he looked toward me but without meeting my eyes. “I better go.”

  Hearing the bitterness in his voice, I realized he didn’t know why I
’d stopped. He thought I was pushing him away.

  I moved to him, pressing my body against his, and cupped his cheek in my hand. I loved the way he automatically wrapped his arm around me to pull me close.

  “I’m not sending you away,” I explained. “I just … if I’m going to date my kid sister’s ex-boyfriend, I have to go about it the best way I can. That means not letting anything happen between us until I’ve had the chance to tell Dillon.”

  Michael’s whole body relaxed. “You mean, you’re giving us a shot?”

  I nodded.

  He broke out into a wide grin that was so wholly infectious, I laughed.

  “Fuck, I want to kiss you again but apparently kissing you gets out of control pretty quickly.”

  Feeling cocky that a few kisses with me had turned him into a ravisher, I tilted my head and grinned. “You saying I’m the only woman who makes you lose your mind like that?”

  He pressed his forehead to mine. “I nearly made love to you in public wearing my uniform. What do you think?”

  Made love to me.

  Gary always called it “screwing.”

  Michael turned serious. “I want to be there to tell Dillon. It’s not fair to put it all on you.”

  I liked that too but … “If we both do it, she’ll feel ambushed. Humiliated, even. I think it’s kinder if I do it.”

  Michael’s hands flexed on my waist. “Okay. But I’m here if you need me.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  He pressed a sweet kiss to my nose. “It’ll all work out, dahlin’. We’ll get through this.”

  To say the night took an awkward turn was a goddamn understatement. Michael wouldn’t acknowledge me, but I didn’t want to be rude to his date. Her name was Nina, and she looked a little younger than me.

  That didn’t hurt at all.

  Nope.

  My stomach roiled as we sat around the table with our drinks. My family and Bailey were great and chitchatted through the awkwardness, despite Michael’s less than loquacious terseness. Nina seemed not at all concerned by his attitude and tried to make conversation with Bailey a lot.

  It turned out she worked as a police sketch artist, and that’s why she looked familiar to Dermot. Also, Bailey asked what age she was, and the chatty blond declared she was twenty-five.