Things We Never Said: A Hart’s Boardwalk Novel

by Young, Samantha

  This wasn’t some stupid fling.

  One day—and I knew it to be true—I’d be the mother of Michael Sullivan’s kids.

  “Hey!” Dillon picked up.

  “H-hey,” I stuttered, surprised because I’d been caught in my own Michael musings. “Where are you?”

  “Driving home.”

  I sighed. “You’re not supposed to answer your cell when you’re driving.”

  “I am a multitasker. You know this.”

  Hearing the sweet cheerfulness in her voice, I hated myself for what I was about to do. “Listen, Dill, we need to talk. Do you want to meet somewhere?” I didn’t want to do it at home where Mom could butt her nose in.

  “You sound serious. What is it?”

  “Let’s meet up face to face.”

  “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.

  Deathly silence.

  My heart stopped.

  “Dillon?” My heart started again, racing so hard I couldn’t catch my breath. “Dillon?”

  “What is it?” Michael’s eyes were round with worry.

  My face crumpled. “She … something happened.”

  “What happened?”

  “Michael, we have to go, we have to go. We have to find her. I think she was in an accident.”

  I could still feel the panic I’d felt when I realized Dillon was in a car crash. As I sat in Michael’s apartment, feeling his gaze on my face, that memory bled into another and then another …

  Being around Dillon almost transformed me into a kicked puppy. I hated that feeling. Guilt made me put up with it. My sister laid in her hospital bed, where she’d been in and out for eight weeks now, and stared balefully at the ceiling.

  “I could bring something different to read?” I waved the historical romance paperback in the air that she’d described as unrealistic smut. “What do you want me to read?”

  Her jaw clenched. “Something I can relate to. Like a girl whose sister betrays her and causes her to get into an accident that leaves her a fuckin’ paraplegic?”

  Hearing the bitterness, the hate, in my sister’s voice hurt but I held stoic. Dillon’s life had been irrevocably changed by the car accident two months ago. She wasn’t a paraplegic, but she had suffered severe damage to her spinal cord, and it would take months of brutal physical therapy to get her walking again. She’d never have the strength she had before. Not to mention she’d suffered a couple of broken ribs, a fractured collarbone, and a pretty severe concussion.

  I hated that I was the reason she wasn’t paying attention to the road, but it wasn’t my fault she was driving and talking on her phone at the same time. I didn’t make her answer, and she’d pushed me to keep talking.

  I did feel guilty about Michael.

  I blamed myself for Dillon’s subsequent depression, feeling sure if this had happened without her learning about Michael and me, her attitude would have been way better.

  My sister was mad and rightly so. But it was also like she’d given up.

  “When is your next therapy session?” I didn’t acknowledge her last comment.

  She blamed me.

  I got it.

  We’d get through it.

  “Tomorrow.” Her head turned on the pillow toward me. “You’ll be there, right?”

  Either because she needed me there or because she was attempting to keep me away from Michael, Dillon insisted on having me around at her beck and call as much as possible. The only time I couldn’t be with her was when I had class. However, I’d assigned a ringtone to Dillon, so I’d know it was her right away. My teachers were good about letting me take calls from her at school.

  Her constant demands were exhausting, but I saw them as part of my penance and hoped that eventually, once she was back on her feet, we’d get back to a good place again.

  Maybe when that happened, my mom would get off my back too.

  Dillon had told her everything, so Mom was blaming me as much as Dillon was. She couldn’t even look at Michael. I felt terrible because it was causing problems between her and Dad, and I knew things were already strained between them over money. We had insurance, but it didn’t cover all of Dillon’s medical bills. Even though she was talking on her phone and not paying attention, the truck that slammed into her had run a red light. Mom and Dad were talking with a lawyer about getting damages to pay for Dillon’s bills.

  My brothers and sister were fine with me, thankfully. And Dermot liked Michael, so they were getting along great.

  And Dad was always Dad. Supporting me. He tried to assure me none of this was my fault, but I couldn’t help how I felt.

  “You seeing Michael tonight?” Dillon asked.

  It enraged her that her car accident hadn’t caused me to break things off with Michael, even though she was sweet as pie to him when he was around.

  I got all her vitriol.

  But I could handle it, I reminded myself.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Have you had sex yet?”

  “Dillon!”

  She glared at me. “What? You told me when you had sex with Gary.”

  “You know this is different.”

  Tears shone in her eyes, and she looked away. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

  I sighed. “We haven’t had sex.” We hadn’t had time. Whenever we saw each other, we usually ended up talking in his car for hours. He hated his apartment in Southie and wouldn’t let me near it. And Michael didn’t want our first time to be in his car. I didn’t care where we did it. I just wanted him. And tonight was the night. I’d decided. I’d even bought sexy lingerie to surprise him.

  Guilt suffused me at my excitement.

  Dillon was lying in a hospital bed while I planned to seduce my boyfriend.

  “Good.” She harrumphed.

  “Are you mad that I’m with Michael or tha
t I’m not in that hospital bed instead of you?” I dared to ask.

  “I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy,” she replied.

  I winced. “Then, it’s still about Michael?”

  She was silent so long, I didn’t think she was going to speak. Then, “He’s the first guy I ever wanted to sleep with. I don’t know if I loved him … but I wanted him.” She rolled her head to look at me. “If I weren’t lying here, I could be out there, making his decision to choose you harder by reminding him how awesome I am. Instead, I’m a cripple who no guy will ever want again.”

  There was so much in that to hate, and I had to remind myself that Dillon wasn’t herself right now. “You’re not a cripple. You will walk again, and it’ll happen faster once you fight. Not me. Not the doctors. But fight for you.” I sucked in a breath and stood up. She followed my movement. “And once you’re out of here and you’re walking again, I can’t stop you from pursuing Michael if you want to. But I’ll tell you something I haven’t even told him … I love him, Dillon. Like, can’t breathe without him kind of love.” Tears blurred my eyes. “You have to know that because you have to know I would never let a guy come between us otherwise. I met him before I knew who he was to Gary, and he and I have had a connection ever since. He never meant to hurt you. We were both pretty mixed up about it, and I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire.”

  I approached her bed as I saw her chin wobble with emotion. “I adore you. I’m so sorry that I’ve hurt you and I will do almost anything to make that up to you. But giving up Michael would be like cutting off my arm.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks and hope filled me.

  I reached for her, and that hope deflated when she turned her head away. “I’m tired.”

  Dropping my arm, I nodded. With a heavy heart, I slipped out of her hospital room.

  * * *

  Hours later, the need to disappear in Michael was greater than ever. As soon as he pulled his car to a stop in the dark, empty lot by the woods, I jumped him.

  He laughed against my mouth, his hands firm on my waist, and he broke the kiss with a breathless chuckle. “No ‘Hi, dahlin’, how was your day’?”

  I shook my head, my whole body buzzing with need. Frantic, almost. “I want you.”

  Michael groaned. “Fuck, you know I want you too, but not in the car.”

  “Your apartment, then.”

  “I told you that place is a shithole. I’m not taking you there. My lease is up soon, I’ll get a nicer place, and then we’re good to go.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Do you not want me?”

  His expression was incredulous. “Do you know how many cold showers I’ve taken these past two months? In fact, longer than that.” He lifted his right hand. “I’ve grown more acquainted with this hand than I ever fuckin’ did as a horny, blue-balled teenager.”

  I bit my lip to halt my laugh but was unsuccessful. “Then let’s have sex.” I peppered his face with kisses.

  “Dahlia.”

  “Fuck me,” I whispered against his mouth.

  His grip on my hips turned bruising, his face dark with desire. “I don’t want to fuck you the first time,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I want to make love to you. And not in my car but in a nice bed in a nice place because that’s what you deserve.”

  My God, could he be any more perfect?

  I kissed him with all the love inside me that I hadn’t vocalized yet. I was going to tell him tonight. After we made love in his car, I was going to whisper those three little words in his ear.

  “Dahlia …” Michael broke the kiss. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  I knew I was. I could feel his erection digging into my ass, and I deliberately rubbed myself against it. He hissed, his fingers biting into my waist.

  Despite the pleasure, the need, saturating his features, I could still sense his resistance. There was something very hot about seducing Michael Sullivan. We kissed—slow, sexy kisses that seemed to go on forever. But it wasn’t enough to break his will. Deciding to bring out the big guns, I released my hold on him, grabbed the hem of my sweater, and yanked it up over my head.

  My heavy breasts bounced with the movement and Michael froze beneath me.

  His hot eyes locked onto my breasts, somewhat concealed in an emerald-green satin bra that was made to tantalize way more than it was made to support.

  “You like?” I whispered. “I bought it for you.”

  Michael’s answer was to cup my breasts. They spilled over his hands, and he grew harder beneath me. “I like. I love. Love your tits,” he muttered, spellbound by them.

  I grinned. “Yeah?”

  His eyes flew to mine, and he kneaded them, making me whimper as pleasure shot straight between my legs. “I’ve thought about doing a lot of dirty things to your tits.”

  I covered his hands with mine and squeezed again, rolling my hips against his lips. “Tell me.”

  So he did. In lurid detail. Until I was burning hot and losing my mind.

  “Do it,” I demanded against his lips. “Michael.”

  His mouth covered mine, swallowing my pleas in his voracious, deep, wet kisses that took my skin from hot to combustible. His fingers fumbled for the buttons on my jeans.

  Yes!

  “Get in the back,” he growled against my mouth.

  No need to tell me twice.

  I clambered off him, and less than gracefully fell into the back of the car. Michael was too big to get between the seats so as I scrambled out of my jeans, he got out and opened the back door. I let out a laugh of breathless excitement as he got in and slammed the door behind him.

  Then I was wrapped around him, my arms, my legs, as he kissed me passionately, hungrily, his hands searching for my bra clasp. It snapped open, and we broke our kiss to pull it away. Then his mouth and tongue were on my breasts, and he pushed beneath my underwear to rub at my clit.

  “Oh, God.” I clawed at his T-shirt, wanting to feel his skin.

  He got the message and whipped it off. Seeing his determination to torment me, I reached between us and unzipped him. “Now, Michael. I’m ready. You can feel I’m ready.” Pushing beneath his jeans to his boxer briefs, I slipped my hands down over his hard ass, taking the clothes with him, so his cock sprang free.

  “I need you.” I looked deep into his eyes. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean. Are you?”

  He swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Then come inside me.”

  His expression was fierce with passion as he gripped my thigh in one hand. He braced himself over me with the other. He was hot and throbbing against me, and I was thrown back to that day in the darkroom. We’d been so frantic to have each other, it was a miracle we’d made it this long without doing it!

  “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.”

  I saw my sister in her room before the accident. Sitting at her vanity table putting on her makeup, laughing with me about everything and nothing. Sliding the rose brooch I’d made onto the lapel of her blazer, and throwing me a sweet smile. So young and alive. Her whole life ahead of her. One stupid phone call changed that forever.

  “You are everything that makes me happy,” I confessed.