Page 48 of No Greater Love
I looked at Paige, whose expression was a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. "Were you roughhousing?"
She shook her head. "We were playing a game. Taking turns."
"She pushed my Jason," Deanna insisted, gesturing to her four-year-old son—my stepbrother—who was indeed crying nearby. "He could have been hurt."
"I didn't push him," Paige said quietly. "He fell when he was trying to do a flip. I tried to catch him."
I believed her instantly. Paige wasn't the type to push smaller kids—if anything, she was too careful, too conscious of others.
"I'm sure it was an accident," I said, keeping my voice level. "Right, Jason? Did Paige push you, or were you trying to do a flip?"
The little boy, momentarily distracted from his tears, looked up. "Flip," he admitted. "But I fell."
Deanna's perfect features hardened. "Well, regardless, I think the big kids should let the little ones have a turn now."
"That's fine," I said smoothly. "Paige, why don't you come meet my grandmother? She's been asking about you."
As we walked away, Paige leaned close. "I really didn't push him, Tasha."
"I know you didn't, kiddo," I assured her, squeezing her shoulder. "Deanna just likes to make everything a bigger deal than it is."
"Who is she?"
"My father's new wife."
Paige processed this. "She's really young."
I laughed, unable to help myself. "Yes, she is."
"Why doesn't she like me? She doesn't even know me."
The innocent question pierced me. "It's not about you, Paige. Some people just... need to feel important by controlling situations. It doesn't reflect on you at all."
She nodded, seeming to accept this. "Your family is really big. And loud."
"Too much?"
"No," she said thoughtfully. "It's kind of nice. Different, but nice. Dad's so quiet all the time. Sometimes our house feels too... empty."
The observation, so simple yet profound, hit me hard. I'd never thought about what it might be like for Paige, growing up in that orderly, often silent house with just Nate. How different from this—the noise, the chaos, the overwhelming presence of family everywhere you turned.
"Well, if you ever need some noise, you know where to find us," I said lightly.
"Could we come back sometime? For a regular visit, not just a special occasion?"
A feeling like a slow sunrise spread through my chest. "I'd like that. I think Grandma Rose would too."
By the time we reached Grandma's shaded spot, Nate had found his way there too. He was sitting beside her, listening intently as she showed him what appeared to be old family photos. The sight of them together—his head bent respectfully toward hers, her gnarled hand gesturing animatedly—made my throat tighten unexpectedly.
"There you are," Nate said, looking up with evident relief. "Your grandmother has been showing me pictures of you as a teenager. The braces phase was particularly enlightening."
"Grandma!" I protested.
She cackled. "Every young man should know what he's getting into. Besides, I only showed him the nice ones. Not the ones where you shaved half your head."
"You shaved your head?" Paige asked, eyes wide.
"Just half. It was a phase."
