…
“I do keep a photo close. Just not this one.” He huffed. giving a light nudge to the photo of his parents upon the wall. “It’s inside the frame. Right when you remove the back.” He knew the old photo was there. One of him and his mother that he had gotten from a photobooth somewhere on one of their adventures when he was in high school. It was always there. Always tucked away and out of sight.
Looking over to the wall, she knew exactly which photo he was referring to. What about this other photo, why didn’t he like having this one around? Megan shoved the questions aside, it was simply not in her right.
“Adam? I worry about you sometimes, the way you hide stuff, your nightmares…your past. I just don’t want you to go through that all alone–you can talk to me."