Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)
Page 120
“Okay.” She drew the word out, and there was a bite to her tone. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like whatever it is you have to say to me?”
“Dillon—”
“Is it bad news?”
“Um … yes and no. It’s … complicated.”
“What’s it about?”
“Dillon, let’s meet, okay?”
“No,” she said. “I hate these dramatics, Dahlia. Just fuckin’ tell me what it is. You have me worried now.”
“I promise this is not something I want to tell you over the phone.”
“Is Mom okay? Is Dad okay?”
“Of course, everyone is okay.”
“Let tell me!” she yelled.
“Dillon—”
“Fuck’s sake, Dahlia, if everyone is okay, whatever you have to say cannot be that bad. Just say it.”
“I’m dating Michael,” I blurted out.
Michael squeezed my hand and I looked up at him. He wore an expression of surprise and confusion and I shrugged helplessly.
Dillon had gone quiet.
Shit.
“Dill?”
“My Michael?”
A flare of indignation momentarily quelled my guilt. “Technically, he’s my Michael. We were friends before you and he dated.”
“Bitch!” she screeched, and I flinched. “You know how I feel about him!”
Just like that, my remorse flew out the window as I let go of all my hurt and suspicions. “No, you knew how I felt about him, and you asked him out anyway!”
Michael let go of my hand and fell back against the driver’s seat with a groan.
“Ugh!” she growled. “Not true! I wouldn’t do that!”
“Yes, you would. And you did!”
“How can you be yelling at me when you’re in the wrong?” she sobbed, and my remorse came flooding back.
“Dillon—”
“No!” She was back to yelling. “Did he break up with me for you? I swear—”
Her strangled, high-pitched scream filled my ear, followed by a harsh squeal, a sickening bang like a gun going off, but louder, and then a shattering sound, like glass exploding.
Then nothing.