Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

My heart wanted to burst. “They know who I am?”

“Christ, Dahlia, of course they do.”

Anticipation and trepidation filled me in equal measure. “I can’t wait to see them. Dad sent me pictures. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I gave him the pictures to give to you.”

This information caused an unexpected sob to burst forth.

For years I’d been so afraid to come home.

Now I couldn’t think why.

My family was fuckin’ awesome!

“If I” — I hiccupped — “if I don’t … if I don’t stop crying … I’m going to … I’ll be so … dehydrated!”

My brother and sister burst out laughing, and I glared at their inappropriateness.

Davina threw her arm around my shoulders and hugged me to her side. “It’s nice to know the old Dahlia is still under this bawling mess.”

“I look like shit, don’t I?”

“Pretty much.”

That made me cry even harder, which only made my siblings laugh harder.

Bastards.

God, I loved them.

After a while, Dad came out of hiding, seeming to have gathered himself. We knew him well enough to know that you let Dad bring up a subject. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings on what he learned, and as much as I wanted to discuss it with him, I let it be.

I’d like to say everything was hunky-dory with Darragh, Davina, and me, but that would be too easy. Darragh had forgiven me the moment he saw me. That was my big brother. He was so like Dad in nature that I shouldn’t have been surprised by his reception.

And I knew Davina understood things better now and would try. But there were nine years of missing out on each other’s lives, and as we sat around the table talking, awkwardness fell when we mentioned things about our past that left the other clueless.

“I can’t believe you’ve had Aunt Cecilia’s shop this whole time,” Davina grumbled.

When I’d hit the bottle back in Boston after Dillon’s death, Dad decided the only way to pull me out of that dark place was to get me out of the city. His little sister Cecilia inherited the shop on the boardwalk from her first husband. He’d left her a widow with a nice, hefty bank account. Dad knew Cecilia was thinking about selling the store and he convinced her to let me rent it instead.

She’d passed away two years ago while traveling across Europe, and that beautiful woman had gifted me the shop in her will. It was now all mine.

“You said Aunt Cecilia sold it.” My sister narrowed her eyes on Dad.

“She rented it to Dahlia.”

“And then she gave it to me in her will.”

Davina’s eyes widened. “Nice.”

“She was kind. Really kind.” Thoughts of Aunt Cecilia made me sad. She wrote me letters, sending me one every time she made it to a new city. Since I never knew when she would move on, I sent my replies via email. Still, Cecilia preferred the old-fashioned method. I’d loved that about her.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Darragh said. “Krista and I would love to vacation there with the kids this summer. Spend some time with you.”

“Wait, you’re going back?” Davina’s brows pulled together.

Just like that, all the old hurt flared between us. Tentatively, I nodded. “I live there.”