Wood Worked

Spencer surveyed the large animal in front of me. “Is that the Hutchinsons’ cow?”

“Yeah.” Though the family that lived about a mile or two away claimed they’d gotten her for milking, she’d become a family pet of sorts. A very large sort. “She hasn’t been eating or drinking much lately.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Spencer looked at Mrs. O’Leary with concern, but didn’t get any closer. He had on his good shoes and was dressed for work.

“Should be.” I scratched her head when she leaned against me. “Why aren’t you at school?”

“I’m too old.” It was a standard joke, but he didn’t deliver it with a smile. Things had been chilly between us for a while now. I knew exactly when that had started, and so did he. “I’m here about Alyssa.” Yep, he knew all right.

“What about her?” I brushed off my hands and walked out of the stall.

“You’re not doing your part.”

“My part of what? Picking her up and depositing her around the house, posing her like a doll?” Just because I hadn't been talking to him or Rafe recently didn’t mean I hadn’t talked to the kids.

“She’s going stir-crazy.”

“I don’t blame her.” That much time cooped up inside would drive me around the fucking bend. “But what’s that got to do with me?”

“We need your help. Lyss still can’t get around very well on her own, and she’s frustrated with her lack of progress and bored from the monotony.”

“Lyss?” Since when did my brother give women nicknames?

Spencer ignored that. “We could use some help keeping her entertained.”

“I didn’t agree to be her den mother or landlord-for-life like you did.”

Spencer wasn’t easy to anger, but I’d always had a special knack for inciting it. “She risked her life for your nephew. Remember him? The boy you’ve been crazy about for his entire life?”

I grimaced. That was a low blow, and Spencer knew it. When the twins were little, I’d been the slowest of the three of us to learn sign language. I’d been finishing up my degree and didn’t have much time to devote to something that seemed so incomprehensible. By the time the kids were starting school, it became pretty obvious that I was shortchanging my niece—obvious to everyone but myself. Eventually, I hired a sign language tutor and threw myself into studying.

In the years since, Charlotte and I had bonded over our shared love of horses. My gaze swept over the gentle mare I’d bought a few years ago so I could teach Charlotte to ride. Our relationship was strong now, but I was ashamed that it hadn’t always been. “So what do you need? Do you want me to babysit while you and Rafe take in a game?”

“I need you to do your part,” Spencer repeated. “We owe that young woman everything. She’s hurting. She’s bored. Rafe and I do what we can, but I’m gone all day, and he teaches his classes.” Spencer started to lean against a stall and then thought better of it. Didn’t want to get his fancy clothes dirty. “It takes three of us to keep up with the twins, and we need all three of us to take care of her, too.”

The urge to turn that last part into something X-rated filled me, but then I shrugged off the impulse. I wasn’t mad at Alyssa. How could I be? I didn’t even know her. But seeing her was a reminder that she’d been there when Lucas needed her — and I hadn’t.

“All right, I’ll come over when I can,” I said with a scowl.

Spencer nodded. “Good, because that’s what she needs most right now—a grumpy, reluctant visitor with his head up his ass.”

I stifled the grin that wanted to break out. Spence usually didn’t talk like that. Ever since he’d worked at an elementary school—first as a teacher, and then as principal—he’d eschewed all four-letter words. And since he lived like a monk, it was clear that he’d excised all dirty thoughts, too. After all, he had an incredibly beautiful woman living over there with him, yet here he was browbeating his much better-looking younger brother to come over more often.

“You’re part of this family, and now she is too,” Spencer added.

“I don’t remember adopting her.”

“Fine, argue the semantics. Scowl and cuss and walk around with a dark cloud over your head. But do your part. Help us make things better for her. It’s the least you can do.”

Evidently, I wasn’t the only one who remembered that I’d done the least I could do in the park that day.

“Fine. I’ll come to play candy-striper from time to time. Anything else?” In a show of gracious acceptance, I kicked the nearest bale of hay.

“Yes,” Spencer said, his gaze unforgiving. “The twins miss you.” Then he turned and took himself and his fancy clothes out of my barn.