Marco, seventeen, played guitar at 11 p.m. and never closed his door. Sofia, fourteen, spoke in whispered phone calls and left cryptic sticky notes on the fridge ( "I see you" —was that for Lia or the leftover lasagna?). Ezra, eight, asked relentless questions: Why don't you call Carlos 'Dad'? Why is your real dad not here? Do you think our ghosts get along?
“Mom says when families blend, you bring the ghosts of the old ones with you,” Ezra said. “So I think my mom’s ghost is probably sitting on the couch, and your dad’s ghost is in the garage. They’re probably just staring at each other.” lia's big stepfamily #2
And she meant it.
Lia looked at the couch. Empty, of course. But for a moment, she could have sworn there was a dent in the cushion, as if someone had just stood up and left the room with a quiet smile. Marco, seventeen, played guitar at 11 p
“Goodnight, ghosts,” she whispered.