“Because you told him to?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
Frankie crossed the room and sat down on the floor beside me. She didn’t say anything at first, just sat there, her shoulder pressed against mine, her head on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered finally.
“For what?”
“For not telling you.” Her voice was so small. “About Derek. About remembering him.”
I turned to look at her. Even in the darkness, I could see the tears on her cheeks, the way her hands twisted together in her lap.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice gentle even though my heart was breaking. “Why did you keep it a secret?”
Frankie wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Because I was scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“That you’d say no.” She looked down at her hands. “That you’d keep us apart. That you’d...” Her voice broke. “That you’d make us move again.”
The words cut deeper than I expected.
“Frankie—”
“I remembered him, Mom.” Her voice cracked. “I remembered his voice.” She pulled her knees to her chest, mirroring my position. “When he came to fix the sink, I knew. I knew it was him. His eyes were the same. His voice was the same. And I just… I wanted to know him. I wanted him to stay.”
My throat tightened. “So you didn’t tell me.”
“You were already talking about leaving,” she said quietly. “You didn’t want to stay. And I thought if I told you he was my dad, that he was here, it would scare you. I thought if I just waited, if I gave you time to see how good he was, then maybe...” She broke off, her voice dissolving into tears.
I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight against my chest. She sobbed into my shoulder, and I felt my own tears start again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered over and over. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
“Shh.” I stroked her hair. “It’s okay. It’s okay, baby.”
We sat there on the floor in the dark, holding each other while we both cried. I didn’t know how long we stayed like that. Long enough for the tears to slow. Long enough for my breathingto steady. Long enough for the worst of the panic to recede, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.
Finally, Frankie pulled back and looked at me. Her face was blotchy and red, her eyes swollen.
“Why can’t you let him in?” she asked.
The question was so direct, so painfully honest, that I didn’t know how to answer.
“It’s complicated,” I said finally.
“Because he hurt someone?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Sam told you what happened, didn’t she?” Frankie asked. “About Derek and her?”
“She told me some of it.” I took a shaky breath. “That’s not something I can just—”
“But she forgave him,” Frankie interrupted. “She said he changed. She said he’s not that person anymore.”
“I know what she said.” My voice came out sharper than I intended. “But that doesn’t mean—”
