Page 122 of When You Were Mine

With his back against the bedframe, he sank to the floor. “Pretty noisy down there.”

“It’s all right.” She crossed her legs on the bed. “I like it.”

“Yeah? Grandma just set out a cocoa board.” He grinned. “Know what that is?”

She nodded. “I helped her make it. She was going to use whole candy canes, but I told her to crush some of them.”

“That’s a good idea. Do you like mint with your chocolate?”

Her gaze darted to the pillow. “Not really. I like my chocolate to taste like chocolate.”

“Pais, we’re like two peas in a pod. I couldn’t agree more.” They sat in silence for a moment. “You got something on your mind?” He got up to sit beside her. “I saw you hide something under your pillow.” He found the direct approach worked best with kids. Transparency made it easier for them to trust. “I don’t want to get into your business, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

Her hesitation worried him. He’d like to get closer to her, but he didn’t know how. Of course, she’d lost both her parents when she was six, and that had to affect her sense of well-being and safety in the world.

The past year, he’d spent lots of time with his family. He’d gotten close to all four of his granddaughters, but where the other three threw themselves headfirst into relationships, Paisley didn’t show much emotion.

Finally, though, she reached under the pillow and pulled out a framed photograph.

In his mind’s eye, he saw the empty space in Cole and Hailey’s picture-lined hallway.

So that’s where it went.

She didn’t hand it to him, so he waited patiently for her to speak.

“I remember some stuff.”

A chill swept across his skin. After Cole and Hailey became guardians to Paisley and Evvie, they’d taken the girls back to their home to collect as many mementos as they could. Those framed photos in the hallway were meant to keep their parents alive in the girls’ minds.

Where Evvie was only three when she’d lost them and didn’t have many memories, Paisley was six, so she probably did.

“What do you remember?” he asked quietly.

“My dad sang to me while I was in the bathtub.”

“Oh, yeah? What’d he sing?”

Gaze fixed on the comforter, she hunched a shoulder.

“What else do you remember?” he prodded.

“He made pancakes.”

“Oh, you love those. You’d eat them every morning if you could.”

“My dad made them for dinner. I remember because he played music and sang along to the songs. Me and Evvie danced in the kitchen.”

“That’s a great memory.”

When she caught his gaze, her eyes were guarded. Where was she going with this?

“And your mom?” he asked.

Tears glistened, and she sniffed. “She sang to me too. But it was different. She’d hold me like this.” She lifted both arms in a cradling gesture. “And she’d rock me and sing lullabies. Even when I was big.”

“Did you like that?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

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