“I see them both now, staying at Aunt Linda’s house. I’ll make sure to thank them,” I said. “Let them know I turned out all right.”

“More than all right,” Dad said. “And that son of theirs is one of the good ones, I don’t care what anybody says.”

I shifted back and forth on the vinyl. Dean was most assuredly one of the good ones.

Alexis tapped the album with her finger. “There isn’t a single picture of Mom in here, oddly enough. Did she turn her nose up at Aunt Linda’s disco-themed party?”

Dad looked a little nervous. “Uh, no. Your aunt threw away every picture of your mom after we split up.”

Alexis and I exchanged a glance. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or terrified,” I said.

“Your aunt is a ferocious woman that sticks to her guns.” From Kathleen’s tone, it was obvious she considered that a compliment.

“Well,” Eric said, “maybe the two of you will have to throw your own theme party. I bet you can rummage up some groovy seventies clothes at the thrift stores around town.”

Kathleen grabbed my arm, mouth open. “Like maybe before you leave?”

My mouth twisted to the side. “Probably not. I was just telling them about the contract I signed with a hotel in Austin.”

This time I was watching closely, caught the split second of sadness on Dad’s and Kathleen’s faces before they congratulated me.

“I think this calls for hot fudge sundaes to celebrate, yeah?” my dad said. “I can whip some up in the back.”

“Absolutely,” I chimed in, smile frozen on my face. We went back to eating and making jokes and enjoying too much ice cream with one another. But churning beneath was a tangle of feelings and memories only growing louder with every day I spent back home. I was beyond lucky to have a father and sister—plus a brother-in-law and stepmom—who loved me without question, who were willing to celebrate every part of my identity, every accomplishment and achievement.

My mother, on the other hand, used criticism as a form of control, held Alexis and me up to a level of expected perfection that was never, ever possible. And we’d disappointed her so badly that she’d gone ahead and gotten herself a brand-new family.

She’d involved me in her secrets and lies when I was much too young to comprehend what she was having me do—which was help her break my father’s heart so deeply that my aunt Linda threw away pictures of her.

I kept these secrets close and locked away because the idea of hurting my father and sister again was the worst thing I could imagine a person doing. My mother had already hurt them enough. Yet in the face of their honesty and support, lying gave me an icky, turbulent feeling in the pit of my stomach.