“I always have been,” he admits. “Obviously. In my family, that wasn’t allowed. In fact”—he presses his hands to his thighs—“it was basically the worst thing you could be. Next to a murderer. And you could be forgiven for murder,” he jokes weakly.

“Does Mom know?”

He gives a small smile. “She’s always known. She was my best friend. We knew all each other’s secrets. We also knew our families and our church. We knew exactly what our secrets could do to us if they got out. So, I offered to marry her and raise you as my own.”

“Why would you give up everything? I don’t understand. You had your entire lives ahead of you.”

His grin is sardonic. “Did we, though? Your mom was eighteen and pregnant with a stranger’s baby. A stranger who she found out had died. I was a gay kid in a conservative family. I couldn’t have fallen in love for real. Back then, gay marriage was illegal, so even if I had managed to fall in love with a man, I couldn’t marry him and start a family. It didn’t feel like such a sacrifice, honestly. It was more like an answer to a prayer for two kids in a jam. A chance at happiness, even if it wasn’t what we dreamed of.”

I shake my head. “But you weren’t happy,” I said. “You can’t lie to me. I saw it. Everyone saw it. For years, you two have been strangers in the same house. I thought it was because of me. Because I quit skating.”

Declan straightens. “Meg, no. Absolutely not. Nothing like that. I was sad when you quit, but only because figure skating was our thing. It was what we had in common. Maybe the only thing. And when you stepped down, I wasn’t sure if it was because of church or because of your mom or because you truly wanted out. Not knowing for sure? That bothered me more than I can say. Your mother and I let church dictate our lives. I didn’t want the same for you. I wanted you to have your chance. But there you were, as perfect as could be. So joyful in your love of Jesus, singing in the worship band, attending youth group lock-ins. And your mom had you dressing so modestly …

“Meg, it was like you wilted when you got your first period.”

Oh God.

He laughs at the look of horror on my face. “Sorry, but it’s true. You were barely thirteen, and all of a sudden, you were covering up and staying away from the rink and boys and homeschooling double time, and it just … felt like you were repeating our mistakes. It made me sick inside.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”