Every family before us had shown interest in four-year-old Josie—until they discovered that adopting her also meant taking in her sixteen-year-old brother, Jace.
My husband, Daniel, and I agreed to welcome them both.
After five years of unsuccessful fertility treatments, we had finally chosen adoption.
Eight months later, we met Josie at the agency.
She had curly brown hair, enormous dark eyes, and was busy coloring a purple wolf.
Daniel knelt beside her.
“That’s a really nice dog.”
“It’s a wolf,” she corrected him.
“Well, then that’s an amazing wolf.”
Josie giggled, and something inside me immediately softened.
A little later, our caseworker, Rebecca, asked us to speak privately.
She explained that Josie had an older brother named Jace and that the siblings would only be placed together.
Several families had been eager to adopt Josie, but once they heard about Jace, they changed their minds.
“Teenagers are much harder to place,” Rebecca said.
When Jace walked into the room, he was tall, skinny, and visibly cautious.
He hardly said a word, while Josie seemed determined to fill every silence.
Daniel asked whether he was into sports.
“Basketball sometimes.”
Daniel told him he had played guard in high school, and for the first time, Jace’s expression showed genuine interest.
Later, I asked Josie what kind of food she liked.
“Mac and cheese.”
Then I looked at Jace.
“How about you?”
He seemed caught off guard.
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
At the time, I didn’t think that simple question meant anything.
A few weeks later, both kids moved into our home.
Josie had a hard time sleeping at first and frequently woke up screaming for Jace.
He always managed to reach her before Daniel or I did.
Slowly, though, she began feeling safer.
One morning, she crawled into our bed instead of running to Jace’s room.
A little while later, he appeared in the doorway, noticed her asleep between us, and quietly turned around and left.
Jace remained respectful and cautious.
Almost too cautious.
After about a week, I realized he still hadn’t unpacked.
His clothes remained inside two duffel bags, his books stayed in his backpack, and his shoes were lined up beside his suitcase.
I told him he was welcome to use the dresser and closet.
“Okay.”
But he never emptied the bags.
Even so, little signs that he lived there started appearing around the house.
A basketball sat near the front door.
His favorite cereal appeared in the pantry.
His phone charger stayed plugged in on the kitchen counter.
A month later, he was laughing with us over dinner and grabbing garlic bread straight from Daniel’s plate.
For the first time, he seemed like an ordinary teenager who believed he would still be living there the next day.
The following afternoon, their former foster mother, Marlene, called.
After I told her how well everything was going, she suddenly asked me something unexpected.
“They still haven’t told you why they chose you?”
I went still.
“They chose us?”
Marlene suggested I speak with Rebecca.
Rebecca confirmed that after our first meeting, Jace had specifically asked to be placed with our family.
That evening, Daniel and I asked him why.
Jace stared down at the table.
“Because Josie picked you.”
Josie?
“She’s four,” I said.
“Exactly,” Jace replied.
“Nobody listens to her when it comes to important stuff.
So when she said she wanted you, I made sure Rebecca paid attention.”
Josie walked over after hearing her name.
“Why did you choose us?” I asked her.
She pointed directly at Jace.
“You talked to him.”
She explained that other prospective families had always focused on her.
They played with her, brought her snacks, and asked her questions.
“But they don’t talk TO Jace,” she said.
“They talk ABOUT Jace.”
They would ask whether he caused problems, whether he had anger issues, or whether he could be placed somewhere else.
“One lady wanted me,” Josie explained, “but she said her house wasn’t big enough for Jace.”
After experiences like that, Josie stopped caring about whether adults were kind to her.
“What did matter to you?” Daniel asked.
“If they were nice to Jace.”
She remembered that I had asked Jace what he liked to eat, and that Daniel had included him in the conversation by talking about basketball.
“Everybody wanted me,” she said as she wrapped her arms around her brother.
“But I only wanted somebody who wanted him just as much.”
Then I finally asked Jace the question that had been bothering me.
“If you picked us, why are your bags still packed?”
His entire expression shifted.
“Because people change their minds.”
He explained that families always became interested because of Josie.
Sometimes they convinced themselves they could take him too, but eventually, they decided he was too difficult or too much responsibility.
“So I thought I should wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“For the day you decided you didn’t want me anymore.”
Suddenly, I understood.
Those packed bags had nothing to do with laziness.
They were his way of protecting himself.
I wanted to promise him that we would never send him away, but I knew Jace had probably heard promises like that before.
So instead, I simply told him that the dresser and closet belonged to him whenever he felt ready to use them.
For several days, nothing changed.
Then, about a week later, I walked past his bedroom and stopped.
The duffel bags were empty.
His books had been arranged on the shelf.
His shoes were tossed beneath the bed.
A hoodie hung carelessly over the back of his chair.
Jace suddenly appeared behind me holding a bowl of cereal.
“You unpacked,” I said.
His ears immediately turned red.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“You look like you’re going to cry.”
I quickly wiped my cheek.
“Go eat your cereal.”
He smiled and headed downstairs.
For the first time since Jace had entered our home, there wasn’t a packed bag sitting in his bedroom, ready for the moment someone changed their mind.
