He sounded so uncharacteristically surprised and shocked that under any other circumstances, Piper would’ve laughed. As it was, it was all she could do not to cry. But she hadn’t cried in years. If she lost it now, she’d never recover.

“Man, you don’t have any sisters,” Gavin said. “Be grateful. They’re . . .” He circled a finger at the side of his head, the universal sign for loco. Then he reloaded his spoon with another scoop of mac and cheese and turned to Piper with a raised brow.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” she said. “You were an addict and you couldn’t tell me?”

“Not past tense. Once an addict, always an addict.” He gave her a knowing look. “Just like once a control freak, always a control freak.”

Piper blinked. “Are you referring to me?”

He pointed to her ever-present journal lying on the counter. “Yes, Ms. Has-to-Make-a-List-for-Everything, I am.”

She resisted the urge to hug the journal to her chest. Instead—and she had no idea what came over her; maybe it was the heavy weight of sorrow and rage and guilt—before she could think or stop herself, she grabbed a hot-dog bun and pitched it at him.

He ducked, and it hit Winnie in the nose.

“Hey!” Winnie shrieked. “I’m not the druggie. That’s Gavin and Daddy!”

In the act of reaching for another bun, Piper froze. “What?” she whispered, sure she’d heard wrong.

Winnie turned to Gavin. “Tell her.”

“Okay, but remember,” he said to Piper, “I warned you not to let me off the hook that easily and you forgave me anyway.” Gavin grimaced, and a piece of macaroni fell off his chin. “So, fun fact . . . I was going through Gram’s office earlier while you were working.”

Piper stared at him. “You had no right to do that.”

“I’ve got as much right as you.”

Piper blinked, but only one eye reopened, because the other was crusted shut with cheese.

“I found a file of medical stuff,” Gavin said. “Doctor visits, prescriptions, stuff like that. Turns out, Dad was addicted to Oxy too.” He gave a wan smile. “Apple and tree and all that, I guess. Who knew, huh?”

Piper, whose legs had lost all their bones, sank into a chair and swiped at the glued-shut eye. “Dad was addicted to drugs?”

“Prescription meds,” he said, and when she stared at him, he shrugged. “He was getting help for it, though. I actually thought you probably already knew. Winnie was too young, and I guess I was too.”

“Oh my God,” Piper whispered.

“Okay, so you definitely didn’t know.” With a sigh, he sat next to her. “Sucks, right? But I gotta admit, it’s nice to see you showing your feelings instead of hiding them and pretending they’re not there at all in some misguided attempt to be strong for us.”