Meanwhile, I lived like royalty in the Gardner household. A proper little princess, doted on and spoiled absolutely rotten.
Whenever my hopelessly in love parents got too caught up in their dramatic, PDA-heavy love sessions, I'd quietly slip away to spend time with my true favorite: my obsessive, emotionally reformed foster brother.
Lance never minded. If anything, he seemed to look forward to it. He genuinely enjoyed how clingy I was, how I followed him like a shadow.
Back in our old life, he was invisible in this house and treated like a ghost. A polite, cold, unwanted ghost. But now? Now he had someone. He had me.
And I had him.
Unlike my sister, I never tried to isolate him. I didn't treat him like some lurking threat. No, I made sure everyone knew I adored him.
I followed him around nonstop, chirping things like, "My brother is so smart," and "My brother's the best!" like a broken record.
Honestly, I embarrassed him sometimes, but he never stopped me.
On stormy nights, I would sneak into his room, hugging a pillow to my chest and looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.
"Can I sleep with you tonight? Please?"