Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

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 can’t, then maybe the rest of them shouldn’t.”

The flash of temper flared in her cat-shaped eyes. “Like hell! I cannot believe he said what he said to you. As for your mother, she’s psychotic when it comes to you. I’m not saying that with bias. I am saying that as an emotionally mature human being. If Michael can’t deal with the past and move on, that’s his problem. You tried to mend the breach. You tried. That’s all anyone can ask.

“And your dad and your brothers and sister forgive you for leaving because they love you. As for the other thing, there is nothing to forgive, and if you don’t get that through that stubborn head of yours, I’m going to physically haul you back to therapy.”

I smirked at her no-nonsense attitude. “Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired.”

“You’re not sick, Dahlia. You’re sad. And you’re loaded with guilt. Yes, you could have come home sooner, and yes, you made your family worry about you. That is your fault. You know that. You’ve explained, you’ve apologized, and everyone but Michael is moving on. But Dillon is not your fault. None of them believe that—and my guess is that not even Michael believes that. You have to let it go.”