Page 72 of Spencer

His mother picked up on the first ring.

“Spence?” she chirped with a giddy happiness in her voice that Spencer would never tire of hearing.

“Yeah, Ma. It’s me. I’m home.” He looked over to make sure Tabitha had things in hand, which it looked like she did, then swiftly retreated to the tiny bathroom for some privacy. “Well, not home, but I’m in town. Smitty lent me his cabin for a few days while he’s away, just so you wouldn’t be blindsided. Iwillneed a place to stay after he gets back. I have a few things to figure out. Can you put me up? Me and a friend?”

“Of course.” Spencer could almost hear her wheels turning. He wondered what question she’d ask, first.

“You’re here for a while, then?” Ellen Sothard settled on that one. Spencer could hear happy tears in her voice.

“Yup. And Ma, if all goes well… Um.” He decided that speaking about his plans in person would be better. “Well, we’ll talk about all that, later.” Itdidall depend on Tabitha’s sister, but Spencer was confident they could make that happen. “Oh. And you don’t have to tell Mason and Kyle I’m here.”

“I don’t?” she asked cheekily.

“Nope. Because they just showed up on my doorstep.”

“Oh, Spence. Be careful please. I know you boys like to work things out with your fists more often than not, but I don’t want to see anyone with black eyes or broken noses. As a matter of fact, I forbid it. Do I make myself clear?” Steel made an appearance in her voice, and Spencer knew to take that seriously.

“Iwon’t start anything, Ma. I promise. And Mase probably won’t, either. But I don’t know if I can say the same for Kyle.”

“You tell that boy I’ll be expecting you all for supper tonight, and if I see one speck of blood on you, he’ll spend the entire meal in the torture chair.”

Spencer actually threw his head back and laughed. He hadn’t thought of that time-out spot in years. The nasty old thing, however, still remained to this day, propped in a corner. An ancient piece of furniture that was upholstered, but had always felt like bricks had been shoved behind and beneath the material holding it together. The posture of it was also ridiculously straight-backed, like an old-timey church pew. One was almost forced to lean forward while trying to sit in it.

It had been their punishment place since they’d started to walk and raise hell.

Spencer wasn’t sure who was responsible for naming it, but due to its discomfort—especially as penance-time wore on endlessly in their little-kid brains—someone had dubbed it “The Torture Chair”, and it had stuck.

“I’ll let him know, Ma,” Spencer assured her. Not that it would do much good with Kyle. If he was out for carnage, even the threat of the torture chair wouldn’t stop him.

“Now I’ve gotta go. I left Tabitha by herself trying to fend them off, and I don’t know how long she’ll be successful.”

“Wait. Tabitha?” his mother’s suddenly curious voice tried to lure him back.

He grinned. “I’ll explain later, Ma. Sorry.” He hung up before she could interrogate him.

That would take far too long.

Spencer emerged from the bathroom, prepared to fight if Kyle had made his way in, but the dick hadn’t barged into the house.

Spencer cautiously approached the porch.

His two sibs and Tabitha were sitting, fairly companionably around a currently three-legged table—the fourth being held up by a cinder block—in the chairs that Spencer had initially thought were scrap-wood.

They all held cans of soda, and were eating…

“Hey. Those are my favorite chips,” Spencer groused, coming to a halt by the group who, if not exactly buddy-buddy, looked like they might be working things out.

“Suck it, little brother,” Kyle said with a growl. “We’re only making nice for your girl because she’s…okay.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “She’s more than okay.” He turned to Tabitha and put a hand on her shoulder. “How did you domesticate them?”

She grinned and dug a hand into her pocket, taking out his bottle of untouched, fruity vitamins. “I promised them these if they didn’t go all cave-man on you. Get it? Cave-man? Flintstones?” She shook the bottle.

“What?” Spencer yelped, partly in jest, but mostly…Yeah.Those werehistreats. “You’re giving away my Flintstones?”

“Sucks to be you,” Kyle interjected, reaching out a long arm and snagging the bottle from Tabitha. “These babies are mine now.” He tucked them carefully inhispocket.

Mason scowled. “Ours,” he stated, unequivocally.

---