Page 33 of Spencer and the Younger Girl
It was Victoria’s fault. She’d made him watch all the girl shows growing up.Friends.Gilmore Girls.One Tree Hill.Gossip Girl. Ask him about that last one, and he’d deny it with everything he had.
He didn’t know how long he’d been planted on that couch when Victoria pushed open the door, a takeout bag in one hand.
“Take all afternoon classes, they said.” She huffed. “It’ll be nice to sleep in. What no one mentioned was how much it sucks to not be done with school until dinner time every day.”
He jumped off the couch to take the food from her, his stomach rumbling at the smell of curry. Victoria was the only person he ate Indian food with. She loved it, and he used to love watching how much she loved it.
“I don’t know if I even know what your major is.” He followed her into the kitchen.
“Education—much to my parents’ dismay. They wanted me to become a doctor like them. I just want to teach.”
“I can see it.” He could. Victoria would make an amazing teacher. She was the only reason he’d passed all his classes back in high school.
His words awarded him a smile from her as she dished up the chicken curry and copious amounts of rice. He could never take the spiciness she preferred, so he tempered it with lots of white rice so his tongue didn’t burn off.
As they settled into the couch, a knock sounded at the front door. Victoria groaned as she put her plate aside and went to open it. “Oh, hey, Mrs. Lee.”
Spencer choked down a bite of chicken and sat up straighter. “Ma. What are you doing here?”
“Victoria,” his mom started. “Do you mind if I have a word with my son?”
“Ma.” Spencer stood. “It’s her house. We aren’t kicking her out.” He grabbed his jacket and walked past her to the door. Part of him wanted to tell her he wasn’t ready to talk, but there’d been enough silence between them.
They didn’t speak as they walked side by side down the road leading to the beach. As they crossed the bridge, the sound of waves crashing on the shore punctuated the night. A full moon overhead lit the dark water in its silver glow.
“Damien told us,” she said.
“Told you?” His eyes widened at the implications of that.
“Yes, he said you came home because he asked you to.”
Oh, not the total truth, but he wasn’t about to out his brother. “He needed me.”
“He has needed you for three years, son. Why now?”
He tried not to feel too good about her calling him son like she used to. She still hadn’t said why she was here. How could he be honest when it wasn’t his business to tell? Sure, Damien always needed him, but he hadn’t realized quite how much until he’d confided in him.
“Ma, I’m sorry, okay. When I left…” He blew out a breath. “I was suffocating in this town.”
“I know you weren’t happy, but Spencer—”
“Not happy?” He stared out at the ocean. “I didn’t fit here.”
“Of course you did.”
“No. Listen to me. Please.” He rubbed the back of his neck, unable to look at her. “I lived my life feeling like a constant disappointment to everyone around me. I know I hurt you and Dad, and I’m sorry for that. I really am. But leaving wasn’t about you. I did it for me, and I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again. I can’t say I won’t.”
“I don’t think you quite understand what it is to love someone so much you worry for them every moment of every day. If you did, you’d have at least let us know you were alive.” She turned back to the bridge and set her hand on the wooden rail. “You can stay in the bunkhouse. We will pay you for your work on the ranch. I expect you to be there bright and early tomorrow. Now, I must go speak to the girl who stole our goats.”
Spencer watched her walk back down the road to her car, realizing she’d just cracked open the door back into the family.
But who was he kidding? It would slam closed the moment he left Gulf City again.
