Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

An hour before my alarm was set to go off, I left Bailey sleeping in the other guest bed in my brothers’ old room and went downstairs to have my first coffee of the day. As soon as I walked down the last few stairs, I knew my dad was awake. Light filtered through from the kitchen. My dad had always been particular about switching off lights as we moved from room to room and he always made sure all the lights were off at night.

When I walked into the kitchen, he was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper with his hand tight around a coffee mug.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Dad gave me a tired smile. “I knew we had to get up soon. My body clock woke me up.”

“Thank you again for driving us to Logan. You know we could have called a cab.” I puttered around the kitchen, making myself coffee and grabbing some Scottish shortbread Dad had bought yesterday. He’d been buying it from the British import section in the supermarket ever since I sent him some after my trip to Scotland a few years ago. Over the years, as business had gotten better, I’d been able to afford vacations. I usually took one a year, either just before or after the summer season. A few times Bailey and I had vacationed together, but being alone for so long had made me independent. I didn’t mind traveling by myself, and I’d been to some wonderful places. I’d fallen in love with Scotland. And shortbread.

Now I knew Dad had too. We already had cookies like shortbread in Massachusetts but nothing as good as the imported stuff I munched on as I waited for the coffeemaker to beep.

“I want to take you to the airport.”

“Have you got work tonight?”

“You know I do.” He leaned back in his chair. “Who’s picking you up from Philadelphia?”

Our flight was a little over an hour between Boston and Philadelphia. There were no commercial flights into the small airport in Wilmington, but Philadelphia was pretty c

lose to Wilmington anyway. No matter what, we were looking at an almost two-hour drive to Hartwell from the airport.

“Vaughn.”

Dad nodded. “He a good guy? Does he deserve Bailey?”

I smiled, pleased that my whole family seemed so taken with my best friend. “I’m not sure any guy deserves someone as special as Bailey. I can tell you that Vaughn is usually taciturn, sarcastic, and aloof, but as soon as she walks into the room, he changes.” I shook my head in wonder. “He’s charming and affectionate, and he looks at her like he’s afraid she’ll disappear. Moreover, he wouldn’t drive two hours there and back for just anyone.”

Grinning, Dad nodded. “I’m pleased to hear it. She’s a good girl.”

Coffee in hand, I sat down at the table and shoved the plate of shortbread toward him.

Dad raised an eyebrow. “That’s not exactly a nutritional start to the morning.”

I shrugged and took the piece he didn’t want. He shook his head, but his smile was full of affection.

My prolonged study of him, however, caused him to frown. “What?”

Worry consumed me. It happened when you loved someone as much as I loved my dad. “I don’t want to leave until I know you’re okay. Bailey can go back. I could stay.”

Dad shook his head. “You depend on the income from that Thanksgiving festival, and I’m a grown man, Bluebell. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I don’t mean it like that, Dad.”

“I know you don’t. But it’s not your job to worry about me. It’s my job to worry about you.” His stare was pointed.

I sucked in a shaky breath. “Are you talking about Mom or Michael?”

“Both.”

Cupping my hands around my mug, I leaned forward, gazing straight into his eyes so he’d recognize my sincerity. “I’ve found more peace about Mom since coming home than I could have hoped for. Did we forgive each other? No. Is our relationship in tatters? Yes. It’s not a perfect outcome, and I’m not pretending to be nonchalant about it. Of course, it hurts. But I understand her better now and having everyone else back has made it easier to let go of that relationship. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to deal with it as well as I am if I didn’t have you. If I hadn’t always had you.” A happy shimmer brightened my eyes. “Have I ever told you how much I adore you?”

Dad’s own eyes shone. “You never have to. I feel it.” He reached over and wrapped his hand around my wrist and gave it a little squeeze. “You know I love you more than life, Bluebell.”

The tears splashed down my cheeks, and I gave an embarrassed laugh. “I swear the floodgates seemed to have opened and I can’t shut them off.”

Instead of smiling, Dad’s brow furrowed. “I’m still worried about you.”

I swiped at my tears with my free hand. “Because of Michael?”