Emma rolled her eyes.
“You’re both annoying.”
Then she pointed at me.
“Fine. Ask your mom. See if I care.”
Your mom.
Luke blinked.
Emma had said it like it was nothing.
Not a betrayal.
Not a competition.
Just a fact.
And suddenly Luke laughed.
A real, surprised laugh.
The sound of someone realizing the disaster he had feared his entire life wasn’t coming.
Seconds later, he and Emma were arguing about the hammer again.
Like siblings who had never been separated at all.
I stood on the porch holding a tray of lemonade and listened.
The house wasn’t silent anymore.
For three years, I had walked through empty rooms carrying grief no one could see.
I had learned to live with silence.
Then everyone warned me not to adopt Luke.
Too old.
Too difficult.
Too many placements.
Too complicated.
A teenager carrying problems no one could fix.
