forgot to breathe.
Then Luke said the words.
“Daniel was my father.”
I turned toward Monica.
Twenty-seven years of resentment suddenly made sense.
But one question remained.
“The apples.”
Monica blinked.
“What about them?”
I glanced toward her open garage.
Every missing basket of fruit was there.
All of it.
“You never planned to sell them.”
The anger slowly disappeared from her face.
“When I inherited this house nine years ago, I told myself I would tell Daniel about Luke.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because then I saw him with Ben.
