Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

He pushed off the bench and wandered around in a way he knew would piss me off. “Why does the whole place smell like coconut?”

I swear I growled.

“Well?”

“Because I sometimes oxidize metal and it smells like sulfur, so I use coconut diffusers,” I replied through clenched teeth.

He nodded, trailing his fingers over my cabinets. “This is amazing, Dahlia.”

Stop trying to soften me!

“Michael.” I stepped toward him, hoping he’d hear the genuine alarm in my voice.

He did. Michael turned to me, his expression carefully neutral. “Dahlia.”

“Please tell me you did not quit a job with Boston PD and come to ‘nothing-ever-happens-here-Hartwell’ because of me.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh my God.” I ran my hands through my hair, turning away in vexation. What was he thinking? With all the crap already between us, now he would end up resenting me even more. “This place may technically be a city, but it’s tiny.” I whipped around, wide-eyed, feeling frantic, desperate, panicked for him. “It has a small-town mentality, and nothing happens here. You cannot give up a career as a detective in Boston to be here for me. And not because that’s crazy doing that for anyone but because we are a mess!”

Michael’s face hardened, and he took a step toward me. “One: I’m working for the sheriff’s department, so it covers the entire county, not just Hartwell. Two: three months. For three months, I’

ve laid awake in bed at night missing every fuckin’ inch of you.”

I sucked in a breath, feeling a complicated mix of exultation and desolation.

“Our night together three months ago was the first time in nine years I have been truly happy. Until you walked away again.”

“But you agreed. You didn’t say anything, so I assumed you agreed there’s too much hurt, too much history, between us.”

“No. I realized there was nothing I could say to make you believe I wouldn’t make the same mistakes I made all those years ago. I had to do something that would make you believe.”

Shaking my head, I backed away from him. “You don’t give up everything. That’s insane.”

“What was I giving up? Boston was wearing on me long before you came back, Dahlia. Working nights, coming home to that empty apartment, hardly ever seeing my mom now that my dad’s retired. I’d lost most of the friends I had because most of them found themselves on the wrong side of the law and thought I was a sellout. My closest friends are your family. And I only got close to them because they were your family.

“When you left, I got in contact with the sheriff’s office here, and I spoke with Jeff King. I considered it fate that he needed a detective with experience.” He thankfully halted when there was still enough space between us to allow me to breathe. “I don’t consider moving here giving up on something. For the first time, I am not giving up on what matters.”

No, no, no! Him being here was … no!

Every day Michael would tempt me with his mere goddamn presence. How could I fight my feelings for him when he was there all the time? And I had to fight my emotions. I had to.

“Tell me you love me,” he said.

My eyes jerked up from the floor to stare into his. They were filled with love and desire and everything I’d ever wanted him to look at me with. When I was younger. Before everything turned to shit. Tears shone in my eyes because I couldn’t say those words. Those words would change everything.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Fine.” He bit out. “I’ll leave. If you tell me you don’t love me.”

Horror filled me.

No.

I tried to coerce the words to materialize out of nothing. To let the lie trip off my tongue. However, even knowing what was at stake, I couldn’t physically force out the words. They were like sandpaper against the inside of my throat.

The ire in Michael’s eyes dissipated at whatever he saw in me. Confusion and affection replaced his disappointment, and I froze as he crossed the distance between us. Holding still, my breath caught and my belly fluttered as Michael bent his head toward mine. His heat and spicy dark cologne wrapped around me, and I closed my eyes against his impact.

A shiver caused the hairs on the back of my neck to rise as he whispered in my ear, “And that’s why I’m staying.”