“How do you know Malcolm?” Spencer asked again, and Mason grabbed hold of his elbow painfully.
“Look at her,” he whispered. “The eyes, the cheekbones, that fucking glare.”
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.”