Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

“Michael.”

“God, I love it when you say my name.” He pressed forward into my wet—

My cell rang, blasting the car with its loud music. We froze against each other.

It was Dillon’s ringtone.

And Michael knew it.

He made a throaty noise of frustration and hung his head.

Tears filled my eyes at being thwarted once again, and when the ringing stopped only to start up immediately, I whispered, “I have to.”

He lifted his head. “Does she know you’re with me?”

I nodded, those tears threatening to break loose.

“Then don’t you think her interruption might be deliberate?”

I nodded.

“Then maybe it’s okay to let this one go.”

I squeezed my eyes closed, and the tears slipped free. “I can’t.” As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t.

Michael’s lips touched my cheek, over the wet trail of my tears. “I know,” he whispered tenderly before sitting up.

I loved him so much. “I’m sorry.”

He rubbed my thigh in comfort, reassurance. “We got all the time in the world, dahlin’.”

Grateful, believing he was right, I quickly righte

d myself and reached through to the front seat for my purse. My cell was still ringing. I answered, hoping I didn’t sound too breathless.

It wasn’t Dillon.

It was my mom.

That call had changed my life forever. Dillon had unexpectedly caught an infection, and I was needed at the hospital. She deteriorated so quickly, it didn’t feel real. And she was too weak. Emotionally as well as physically. The infection fought her and won, and she went into organ failure.

Mom and Dad had to take her off life support a few days later.

Grief tightened its hold around my ribs and crushed me. Most days it was manageable, but lately, its viselike grip had returned.

I stared at Michael. He’d taken the armchair across from me and was waiting patiently for me to speak. After Dillon’s death, after my mom attacked me, blaming me, telling me it should have been me, I pushed everyone away. Including Michael.

“I blamed you.” The words tore out from the depths of buried shame. “When she died hating me, I blamed you. I blamed you for dating her. For setting off events between us.”

The stricken look on his face made me feel sick.

“I know you’re not to blame,” I hurried to say. “I don’t blame you now. But I did back then when I couldn’t see clearly, and that’s why I pushed you away too. You were perfect with me. I look back, and I wonder how anyone could be so lucky to have met someone like you. And I can’t believe that I blamed you and pushed you away.” I swiped angrily at my tears. “I don’t deserve you, Michael.”

He shook his head in denial. “Is that the reason why I’m here, and you’re still over there? Because you think you don’t deserve me?”

I lowered my eyes. “Not only that.”

“Then what? Tell me.”