The day they moved in, the silence in my house disappeared. Four pairs of shoes by the door. Four backpacks dropped in a heap.
The first few weeks were tough.
Ruby woke most nights crying for her mom. I’d sit on the floor beside her bed until she drifted back to sleep.
Cole pushed every boundary.
“You’re not my real dad,” he yelled once.
“I know,” I replied. “But it’s still no.”
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