Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

I smiled wearily at my sister, still feeling sick about the whole thing. I hated confrontation. I was good at it, especially with people I didn’t really care about. However, confrontation with loved ones was hell on the heart.

“Speaking of deserving good things …” Dillon gave me a wide-eyed, excited grin. “I’m going to ask Mike out.”

What?

I shook my head, sure I’d heard wrong. “You’re what?”

“I’m going to ask Michael out.” She pulled on her pajama shorts and a tank, before getting into bed. So casual. Like she hadn’t just rocked my entire world.

“Why?” I whispered.

Dillon chuckled. “Why? Uh … because he’s gorgeous and funny and nice. And I’m pretty sure he likes me back.”

No. No. NO! NO WAY!

Michael didn’t like Dillon.

No.

What the hell?

“Isn’t … Isn’t he a little old for you?”

My sister huffed, “Dahlia, he’s twenty-three.”

“He’ll be twenty-four in June.” June 26 to be exact. “You’ve only turned nineteen.”

“That’s not a big age gap. And you know I’m mature

for my age.”

No, I knew she thought she was mature for her age.

Panic seized my chest, and I couldn’t move.

“Don’t worry, this won’t affect you breaking up with Gary. In fact, I think Mike thinks you should break up with him. He was so pissed on your behalf tonight. I mean, Gary passed out on your birthday night, and his best friend had to drive you home. So wrong.”

No, what was so wrong was my little sister having a crush on the man I was in love with.

As Dillon’s snores abruptly filled the bedroom, I got up, feeling like a Mack Truck had hit me, and slowly changed into my pajamas. Once in bed, I stared at my ceiling for hours, desperately trying to fall asleep. Sleep only claimed me when I convinced myself that there was no way Michael Sullivan would date my sister.

No way.

“Bluebell, wake up.”

I groaned, coming out of a deep sleep at the sound of my dad’s voice. Blinking into the dim darkness, I turned my head and saw my dad standing over me.

“Daddy?”

Sadness filled his eyes. “What are you doing in here?”

“Huh?”

Realizing where I was, that I wasn’t dreaming and that I’d fallen asleep in my old room, I sat up too fast, and the room spun.

“Come on, Bluebell. Let’s get you to bed.”

I hugged into my dad’s side, still lost in that halfway place between sleep and consciousness, and I let him lead me into the boys’ old room. He pulled back the duvet on Darragh’s old bed and helped me in, drawing the covers up to my neck. He kissed my forehead and whispered good night.