“Only if they’re true,” she said with a grin.

“Even the one about the time you put peanut butter in Dad’s work boots?”

“Especially that one.”

For a moment laughter filled the kitchen as easily as it had before I found the photograph.

The secrets had wounded us, but they did not erase the warm, ordinary years.

Paige was learning that she could hold both realities without betraying either.

So was I.