Phoebe's POV
Harriet nodded, her gaze fixed on the floor. "My brother told me," she murmured.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and I shifted uncomfortably. Comforting kids wasn't exactly my strong suit, so I cleared my throat and softened my voice as much as I could manage.
"Right, your brother's swamped with work and can't make it back yet. He wanted me to keep an eye on you for a while," I said. "I'm two years ahead of you, and I've lived in Clearwater my whole life. Come September, I'll be at Clearwater University—it's close to your school. Just call me Phoebe."
Despite everything she'd endured with her foster family, Harriet remained courteous. She bobbed her head again. "Okay. I get it, Phoebe."
I arched an eyebrow. The kid was genuinely sweet. Warmth spread through my chest. After Mom died, I'd moved in with Grandpa and became the family baby. My older cousins treated me like their little princess.
