Foster Sisters Novels & Stories

Things she can't go back to. I write back: You sound like you're healing. She replies: I sound like I'm learning. Same thing. --- Mireille and Hana's foster children arrive in July. Three siblings — two girls and a boy, ages four, seven, and nine. They've been in the system for years, shuffled from home to home. Mireille sends a photo: the five of them on their porch, smiling uncertainly. "We're doing it," Mireille says on a video call.

I needed to explain, to thank them, to tell them I was safe and that I loved them and that leaving them was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I grabbed my phone—the new one Aiden had given me since my old one was evidence in Theo’s murder case—and headed downstairs. I found my brothers in the war room, going over security arrangements for the festival. “I need Tom and Sarah here tomorrow,” I blurted out, before I could allow fear to stop me from speaking. My brothers looked up from whatever they were looking at, clearly startled. Aiden set down the map he’d been studying. “Tom and Sarah are your foster parents, yeah?”

He could not help but wonder how his sister ever fell for such a loser. Looking back, it was clear that Yessica had been sheltered too much by her family. They had kept her so safe and sound that she never learned to watch out for the darker sides of people. The Fosters were a family of many sons, and Yessica, their only daughter, was the apple of their eye. They pampered her and shielded her from any scrapes and bruises of the world. That was exactly why she did not see it coming when Andrew swept her off her feet with his charming lies.

I know things are going to be different now that I am sure of how I feel about her, and knowing my father won’t be around and breathing down our necks. And our baby. God, just the thought of it makes me smile like a madman. I never thought it would happen this soon. It never even seemed like a possibility. I know I liked the thought whenever I had them when we were together, thinking of her growing our child, now that it is happening. I can’t even find words to explain the feeling. The one thing I have to say we never got the bottom of was her sisters. They said they never knew their real parents and they grew up with their foster mother who passed away a few years back. Joel too said that w

"I have yet to understand this story though. Didn't you say Martha was your sister?" "Yes, my sister passed away. From what I can understand now, it seems Mary, my ex, who also happened to be my sister's friend, before passing away begged my sister to pretend June was hers so the kid would not pass through the horror of foster care or any of all those other bullshit. Martha, my sister, knew that people would begin to point fingers and ask questions that would leak the truth, so she took the child and fled to me." I slowed down my steps as the memory of my sister's scared face swam into view. She had seemed very inexperienced, just like I was, and I'd thought that was because she was a new mo

Isabel pipes up, looking at Beth, “but my home used to be haunted. My foster parents used to put this strange liquid on the walls of the house to keep whatever was haunting us at bay.” “Foster parents?” Beth looks taken aback. “I didn’t know you were in the system.” Isabel shrugs. “My parents abandoned me. I grew up with my foster parents.” “Were they nice to you?” Beth asks slowly. Isabel just stares ahead. “They fed me and gave me a bed to sleep in. That’s all I could ask for, really.” “Parents are supposed to love you,” Beth murmurs. “Not all of them,” Anderson mutters under his breath. Nobody else seems to overhear, but since he’s walking just behind me, his words reach my ears.

They either rode bicycles or e-bikes, rushing by. In the houses they rented, their families were waiting for them. Caroline envied them a little. No matter how tough or tired they were, they returned home to caring and loving family members and adorable children. She had money, but what awaited her when she got home? She had parents and siblings-in-law, but none of them genuinely cared for her. Her foster father was still in prison, and her foster family did not treat her with a pure heart; as if she was detestable.

When you force a relationship, nothing can ever exist between the individuals. Sydney was my friend from my foster home. She had been kidnapped and abandoned. Sister Mary, her caretaker in the orphanage had told her about it. She was a rebel and broke out of the foster home every single night to meet sister Mary. She took me along with her once and that is when sister Mary actually told her about her past. But two years later, her father found her and had come to our foster home, to take his daughter back. By the looks of it, he was rich. He came in a luxury car and an expensive suit, at that point, I didn’t know fashion. I still don’t.