Spencer looked and staggered, his mouth dropping open.
“How old are you?” he asked hoarsely, and that stubborn jaw tilted even higher while her expression remained mutinous.
“He wanted me to find you and tell you what happened. And I have, so I’ll be leaving in the morning.”
“Over my dead body.” Spencer bristled.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” she fumed.
“I fucking can and I fucking will,” Spencer dictated. “I’m the head of this family, and as the youngest member, you will do what I say!”
He sensed Mason gaping at him and Daff turned to stare as well, her head swiveling from Spencer to Charlie and back again. He heard her swear shakily as she finally took in the resemblance.
The girl—his sister—leapt to her feet, looking ready to flee, but she had nowhere to go, not with Mason and Spencer blocking the door.
“Take it down a notch, lord and master,” Mason said drily before moving toward the girl. She watched him approach, her eyes wary, her thin body tense. She looked like a cornered animal. “Hey, Charlie . . . so Malcolm was your dad, yeah?”
A hesitant nod.
“And where’s your mother?”
“S-she died of an overdose four years ago. When I was ten.” So Malcolm’s taste in women hadn’t changed. He did have a thing for addicts.
“And Malcolm took care of you since then?” Mason asked.
“When he remembered I was there.” She shrugged and Mason snorted.
“That sounds like dear old Dad, all right,” Spencer said scathingly.
“We’d really like it if you stuck around a bit, Charlie,” Mason continued. “I’ve always wanted a sister.”
“How’d you know—” She looked startled that they’d seen through her thin disguise, and Spencer barely kept himself from rolling his eyes.
“The girl thing?” Mason asked, a smile on his lips. “I knew immediately. It took big bro over there a minute to figure it out. If we could see it, others can, too. It’s not safe for you out there, Charlie. Let us help you. Please.”
The girl hesitated, obviously confused, but Spencer could also see the yearning in her eyes, the desire to be warm and safe . . . to belong. He knew that feeling. Had experienced it often in his youth, and if the bastard weren’t already dead, he could have killed Malcolm for making all the same mistakes with this fragile child. For letting her to grow up in an unsafe environment, for allowing her to know fear and hunger, and then for fucking abandoning her.
At least the bastard had done one thing right—he’d sent her to Spencer and Mason. But he should have sent her sooner. The thought of this girl, their sister, for Christ’s sake, growing up the way he and Mason had was just horrifying. And even though this situation had completely thrown him, Spencer was going to make damned sure that she never knew such deprivations again.
He wasn’t aware of Daff coming up to stand beside him until her arm crept around his waist. He was grateful for her tacit support, because he was still reeling. He was desperate to make this child stay and not sure how to keep her from bolting the moment they let her out of sight. Mason’s approach was clearly working more than Spencer’s instinctively autocratic one had. So he let his brother do the talking and tried his best to keep his expression neutral, not wanting to terrify her.
“What do you say, Charlie? Will you come with us? Give us a chance to be your big brothers?”
“I don’t need any big brothers. I don’t need anyone. I can take care of myself,” Charlie stated belligerently, folding her arms over her flat chest. “But . . . I’ll go with you for tonight only.”
“Thank you,” Mason said and looked at Spencer, who—surprise, surprise—found himself incapable of saying anything at all. He nodded curtly and turned away. Daff gave him a brief squeeze and left his side to approach Charlie.
“I’ll help you pack. You love reading, huh? I’m sure you’ll want to pack these,” she said brightly, gesturing toward the paperbacks. “My sister Lia has quite a stash of romance novels as well. I’m sure she’ll be happy to swap with you. Or lend you some. My other sister, Daisy, has also been trying to find a home for some of her books. So if you’re interested—”
“Books are heavy. I keep my favorites, but I can’t collect more. They’re difficult to carry.”
She was very well-spoken and evidently well educated. Spencer wondered when she had dropped out of school, because clearly she was no longer going, since she was fucking squatting in a derelict building. They’d have to look into guardianship and start thinking about putting her back in school. He knew he was getting ahead of himself, but he felt . . . purposeful. Important. Needed. Even if she would never admit to needing him.
He’d come out here tonight, looking to help a stranger, and had found family. And she for damned sure was going to get his help whether she wanted it or not.
The drive back was silent as Mason drove straight to the McGregor farm, even though Spencer was having second thoughts about leaving Charlie there. What if she bolted during the night? He wanted to turn and talk to her, engage her in conversation, encourage her to speak about herself and ask questions about Mason and him, but his tongue felt thick and the words wouldn’t come. It was weird. Spencer never had problems speaking to the kids in the youth program. He’d been proud of his ability to draw them out and befriend them. Now, when it mattered most, he couldn’t find a single word to say.
Thank God for Daff, who kept up a running commentary in the back seat beside the girl. Telling tales of growing up on the farm, of her sisters, the ill, injured, or stray animals their father and Daisy had frequently adopted. More stories about her mother’s cooking, about the ridiculous fights she’d sometimes had with her sisters. Her childhood sounded idyllic. Spencer would have killed for a family life like that, and one quick check over his shoulder told him that Charlie had longed for the same.
He shifted his attention to Mason and, in the dim light, he could see the fond smile on his brother’s lips. Mason had obviously heard some of these stories before and didn’t find them as alienating as Spencer—and possibly Charlie—did. Maybe because he already felt a sense of belonging where the McGregors were concerned. It was a bizarre sensation to feel instant kinship with the girl, while at the same time feeling farther away from his brother than ever before.
The McGregor farm was fully lit when they drove up, and Dr. and Mrs. McGregor, along with Lia and Daisy—who had heard the news via a quick call from Mason—all spilled out onto the porch. They wore warm, welcoming smiles, and, as Spencer watched, his newly discovered sister was instantly engulfed in love and warmth. The girl looked tiny, lost, and overwhelmed as she stood in the center of the small cluster of people. Her thin arms clutched protectively around her ratty backpack. Mason was among the crowd, and Spencer felt a stark sense of loss and envy as both Mason and Charlie were claimed by the McGregors.
“The warm and fuzzies can get a little overwhelming, right?” Daff’s voice sounded from beside him, and, startled, his eyes dropped to hers. He hadn’t realized that she wasn’t among her family, and he instantly felt less isolated.
“Why aren’t you over there fawning?”
“The poor kid’s intimidated and overwhelmed, and my family can be a bit much sometimes. Figured it best to sit it out on the sidelines with you.”
With him.
“So . . . how much of a mind fuck is this for you?” she asked bluntly, and he shook his head.
“I can’t wrap my head around it yet. All I know is that she needs us and I’ll for damned sure make certain that we’re there for her.”
“And you’re sure she’s . . . you know? Related to you?”
“She has more than a passing resemblance to both Mason and me,” he pointed out.
“That’s true. That scowl is unmistakable. But are you going to get DNA tests or anything?”
“A birth certificate will do me,” he said easily. “If Malcolm’s name’s on it, she’s ours.
”
“Fair enough.” She was quiet for a moment before continuing. “But it seems irresponsible to just take someone in off the street.”
“I don’t think she’s been on the streets for too long, she doesn’t seem hardened enough. Which is all the more reason for us to take her in. She wouldn’t last much longer out there. She’s been lucky so far.” The thought of everything that could have happened to her on the streets sent a cold shudder down his spine.
“I just don’t want anyone to take advantage of you and Mason,” Daff explained. “You guys are wealthy and people know that. And they find ways to exploit generosity and kindness.”
“If that’s her plan, she’ll soon find it’s a crappy one, since it means having to go to school and then college and then working her ass off to pay part of her own tuition, because she needs to understand the value of hard work.”
She giggled, and he looked at her, surprised by the sound.
“You sound like a dad.”
He replayed the words in his head. The thought kind of pleased him. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
“Do I? I have no clue what a real dad sounds like,” he said with a perplexed shrug. The movement brought attention to the fact that her hand was in his again. It was starting to feel like it belonged there, and he tried to veer his thoughts off that dangerous path. He couldn’t think of Daff in those terms.
Friends didn’t hold hands, and if they kept touching like this, he’d lose sight of the true nature of his and Daff’s confusing relationship. He subtly moved his hand out of her hold and folded his arms over his chest while he continued to watch the touching tableau of developing kinship in front of him.
She didn’t say anything, just pushed her hands in her coat pockets.
“Come on in, everybody,” Mrs. McGregor invited them. “I have no idea why we’re all on the porch, it’s freezing out here. Let’s get in out of the cold.” She dropped an arm around Charlie’s shoulders, not acknowledging the girl’s tension. “Would you like some hot chocolate, sweetheart?”
“I’ve got to get going,” Spencer muttered as the larger group splintered and headed into the house.
“Well, you can’t. Your ride’s just gone inside for some of my mom’s awesome hot chocolate. Guess you’re stuck with us for a little while longer.”
This time Daff tucked a hand into the crook of his elbow and tugged him toward the house. He allowed her to pull him into the large, warm kitchen, where everyone had congregated. Mrs. McGregor was in her element, bustling around, making sure everyone had a cup of something. She beamed when she caught sight of Spencer.
“Hello, Spencer, would you like a cup of hot chocolate as well? Tea? Or something stronger?”
“The chocolate’s fine, ma’am,” he murmured and then remembered his manners. “Please. Thank you.”
“Please, call me Millicent,” she invited him, and he was appalled by that idea. It seemed disrespectful to just call her by her first name. He cleared his throat and threw her an awkward smile and a short nod.
His eyes drifted to the girl sitting at the kitchen table; she had her head down and looked completely overwhelmed. The mug of chocolate sat untouched on the table in front of her.
“She should go to bed.” The words sounded harsh and way too loud, dropping into one of those odd silences that sometimes fell over a group of people. The girl’s beautiful green eyes—so striking against her light-brown skin—lifted and met his. They were seething with anger and resentment. She probably thought he was trying to tell her what to do again. But he knew how terrifying this all had to be for her and thought she might need a little space and some privacy to process everything that was happening.
Everybody else was staring at him, too, and he flushed, uncomfortable with the unwanted attention.
“Of course, this is all new and a little scary, I’m sure,” Mrs. McGregor said and then smiled at Charlie. “Why don’t I show you to your room? If you don’t mind, I’d like to give your clothes a wash, but you can wear some of Daff’s and Lia’s stuff in the meantime. I’m sure you’d love a hot shower or bath, wouldn’t you? Just to get the cold out of your bones.”
She led the girl out, chatting amiably all the way. Charlie looked over her shoulder as they left, her eyes seeking and finding Spencer’s. Even though she seemed to resent him, he was familiar, and sometimes the devil you knew was a lot less intimidating than the one you didn’t. A huge part of him wanted to drag her to his home and take care of her there. But he wasn’t equipped to care for a young girl. Not yet. He would make sure there was a room ready for her in no time. She was his family, and it was only right he be the one to take care of her.
When Mrs. McGregor and Charlie were out of earshot, everybody left in the kitchen seemed to exhale collectively.
Mason ran his hands through his hair and looked at Spencer with a helpless shake of his head.
“Now what?”
“We have to get her papers, start looking into legal guardianship.”
“You sure that’s the right course of action?”
“I don’t see what other options we have.”
“She may have other family, on her mother’s side.”
“Yeah. No. I’m not down with that. Where were they when her mother died? They left her with Malcolm for four years. Even if they are out there, they’re not getting her. Now that we know she exists, are you really cool with someone else taking care of her?”
“Of course not, but it’s a lot to put on you, Spence. Daisy and I are leaving in a few short months, and you’d be left shouldering the bulk of the responsibility on your own.”
“We could always take her with us,” Daisy suggested softly. Her arm was hooked through Mason’s and he seemed to be hanging on to her for support.
“No.” Spencer was aware that he’d barked the word, but he couldn’t help himself. “She’ll stay with me. I have the space. And you guys will be newlyweds—you need your privacy.”
“You can make these decisions later,” Dr. McGregor intervened quietly. “Charlie is safe for now, and Millicent and I will be happy to take care of her until you’ve figured out your next step.”
“With all due respect, sir, I can take care of my own family.”
“I know that, son, and you’ve done an admirable job over the years. But you’re a part of our family now, and it always helps to share the burden.”
Why did they all refer to him as “family”? It made him uncomfortable. He’d done nothing to earn his way into this family. Mason was marrying into it, Spencer wasn’t. And while everything in him yearned to belong, it just seemed too easy and completely undeserved.
“Just until we get the legalities sorted out,” he grudgingly relented, ignoring the whole “family” thing.
“I think our immediate concern is preventing her from bolting. The kid looks skittish,” Mason said, and Spencer sighed. How had things suddenly become so complicated? Just a week ago, his biggest concern had been his store expansion. Seven days later, he was entangled in the most confusing relationship he’d ever been in, with the world’s most complicated woman. His brother was leaving again, and he had a stag party to plan, a best man’s speech to write, and a frickin’ baby sister who’d popped up out of nowhere.
Millicent McGregor came back downstairs, the smile gone from her face, replaced by a troubled frown.
“That poor child is way too thin and so guarded. Gaining her trust is going to take some doing. Such a pretty little thing, even if she does try to hide it under that gruff exterior. I suppose it comes from pretending to be a boy. I’m so happy she found her way home to you boys,” she said, reaching over to squeeze Spencer’s hand. “She has no idea how lucky she is to have you two.”
Did she really think that? The sincerity shining from her eyes certainly seemed to confirm that she believed what she was saying, and everybody else in the kitchen was nodding in agreement.
“Anyway, I’ve put her in Daff’s old room for now. And I ga
ve her some of you girls’ clothes. I hope you don’t mind?” she asked but didn’t seem too concerned over the reply. “She’s just having a shower now.”
“Do you think she’ll run away?” Lia asked quietly.
“She’s too tired for that tonight. And if she means to sneak out first thing in the morning, she’ll have a tough time of it, what with your father’s tendency to rise with the birds. I think she’ll stay put for now.”
“It’s been an exhausting and eventful evening; I think we’ll head home. Get some rest,” Mason said, casting his eyes around the room for affirmation. Daisy and Daff nodded, but Spencer hesitated, reluctant to let the girl out of his radius.
“She’ll be fine, Spence,” Mason murmured, and Spencer nodded. As long as she didn’t think they’d abandoned her.
“Can you tell her we’ll be back in the morning? To talk?” he asked Mrs. McGregor gruffly, and she smiled reassuringly.
“Of course I will.”
“Rough week, huh?” Daff muttered in the car, en route to Mason and Daisy’s place.
“Hmm.” Rough was understating it.
“I want you to know I’m here for you if you need someone to talk to. I have younger sisters, too, and they can be a total pain.” She raised her voice so that Daisy could hear the last bit, and the younger woman—whose curly head was resting on Mason’s shoulder—casually stuck up a middle finger in response.
“See what I’m dealing with? No respect.” Spencer peered at her smiling face, clearly visible only when they passed a streetlamp. She was smiling, looking so fucking approachable and beautiful.
He wished . . . he wanted . . .
He shook himself. What he wished or wanted didn’t signify. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand.
“Thank you. For tonight. For coming. It meant a lot.” They passed another light, and he could see the small smile on her lips. She lifted her hand to cover his, stroking her palm over the backs of his fingers.
“I’m happy I went.” He turned his hand until her fingers were caught in his grip and brought them to his mouth to kiss the backs of her knuckles.
The Best Man (Alpha Men Book 2) Page 22