“I thought . . . I thought you wouldn’t . . . respect me. That you’d think I’m taking a step back.” “I wouldn’t think that.” “I didn’t want things to fall apart again,” I whisper. Dad wipes at his eyes roughly. “Honey,” he says, “I thought you trusted me. I thought we’d moved on.” “We did! And I didn’t want to ruin that!” “And yet you’re keeping things from me again. Big things.”
