“Because Violet might have asked me to tell you,” he said.

“And because if I kept all the stories separate, I could pretend nobody would be hurt.”

I thought about the sentence written on the photograph: She can’t know.

The words no longer sounded mysterious.

They sounded like someone choosing avoidance and calling it protection.

Our counselor helped us understand another habit: Gregory offered acts of service whenever he feared rejection.

He could repair a sink, drive across the state, or cover a bill, but saying “I’m ashamed” seemed nearly impossible.