Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

If I was done being my mother’s punching bag, I was definitely done being his.

Outrage emanated around the table, and I sensed Bailey was going to be the first to speak, so I put my hand on her arm to stop her. Trembling with indignation, I got up out of my seat, grabbing my purse.

Michael watched me like a man defeated.

I was done with that too.

Just because he felt remorse for saying horrible things to me didn’t mean it was okay.

The truth was I’d said worse over the years with my negative self-talk. But I was trying to be kinder to myself, which meant not allowing others to fill me up with their poison anymore.

I never thought Michael would be one of them.

“Thank you,” I told him.

He flinched ever so slightly. “What?”

“For killing it.” I nodded. “Yeah, for finally killing it. The way I feel about you. The guilt. All of it. The Michael I knew would never have treated me the way you’ve treated me since I came home, no matter what I’d done. You hate me?” I remembered Bailey’s words earlier and shrugged with an ambivalence I wished I felt. “I don’t hate you. I don’t feel anything for you anymore.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked as he glared at me.

Breaking eye contact, I looked down the table to my dad. “I’ll call a cab and see you all at home.”

Thankfully, no one protested. They let me walk out of there with dignity.

He watched her make her way out of the bar, and his knees shook.

“I don’t feel anything for you anymore.”

Fuck.

Cold sweat beaded under his arms and above his lip as he watched her leave. What he’d said …

What had he been thinking? As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to shove them back in. She made him crazy. He said shit he shouldn’t. All because of the anger in the pit of his stomach. All because he’d assumed all these years he’d loved her more than she’d ever loved him, and he’d resented her for it.

But what if he’d been wrong?

“I don’t feel anything for you anymore.”

Panic suffused him, and he looked across the table at Cian. A man he respected. Cared about. A man who was looking at him in disappointment.

“I don’t feel anything for you anymore.”

That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Not when he felt so fuckin’ much.

They weren’t done.

She couldn’t walk away again.

We’re not done.

He whipped his head around and looked down at Nina. What the hell had he been thinking bringing her here? Why did he keep screwin’ up like this? “Thanks for coming but I’m sorry,” he said. “I gotta go. One of the guys will see you home.” He knew the McGuires would give her a ride. He knew it didn’t make bailing on her after she’d done him a favor any less shitty, but right now all he could think about was getting to Dahlia.

None of them stopped him going after her.

They knew like he knew, they weren’t done.

Apparently, they never had been.