Things We Never Said: A Hart's Boardwalk Novel by Young Samantha

Author:Young, Samantha [Young, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Published: 2019-05-06T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

Sometime later, with my head hurting a little, I sat on Michael’s couch with a fresh cup of coffee and a used tissue crumpled in my hand.

I tried not to notice Michael’s proximity on the couch or the way he kept looking at me like he was ready to take a bullet for me. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time to see how my story had transformed him back into my old Michael.

“So that’s when you started drinking?” His voice was soft, coaxing.

Nodding, I took a sip of coffee before responding. “That night I wanted to disappear. I was too ashamed to tell anyone, and I thought if I told my dad, I’d only make my mom hate me more. I convinced myself she was grieving, that she didn’t mean it, but in truth what she said festered. So to get to sleep that night, I stole the gin in my parents’ liquor cabinet. When I realized everything hurt less when I was numbed by alcohol, I kept drinking.”

“I remember.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I was so fuckin’ scared. Didn’t know how to help you.”

Flinching as I remembered everything I’d put him through, I turned away. “Dad was scared too. Like you, he thought it was only about Dillon. That’s when his sister, who lived in Hartwell, reached out to him. She owned the gift shop on the boardwalk, and he convinced her to let me rent it. I said I’d go because I couldn’t bear to be around my mother, but I promised him he couldn’t tell anyone where I was.”

“That’s the part I don’t get.”

Meeting his gaze, seeing the betrayal in his eyes, was difficult. “I hated myself, Michael. I was responsible for my little sister’s death, my mom hated me, I was drinking so I could sleep at night, and I’d pushed everyone I loved away. You deserved better.”

“I deserved the truth.”

I shook my head. “I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. I thought leaving you was the best thing for you.”

Seeing that I wasn’t getting through to him, I realized I’d have to tell him everything. How low I’d gotten.

“I’d hoped the pain would stop once I was out of Boston. It didn’t. It got worse, and so did my drinking. I wasn’t there long when one night I was drunk and took a walk on the beach with my bottle of gin.” Stray tears leaked out of my eyes. Annoyed that there could be any left in me, I swiped them angrily away. “My memories of that night are fuzzy. I vaguely remember walking into the ocean.”

Michael stiffened.

“I … I remember the cold. I remember a momentary fear as I went under. But I also remember the relief.” The tears fell faster, these ones with shame. “I don’t remember Bailey pulling me out. I don’t remember her giving me CPR. And I don’t remember telling her she should have left me to die. But she told me all of it.

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