15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Her left foot healed enough she could walk on it now, but there was a deep cut on the bottom of her right heel that was still pretty painful to put any kind of pressure on. However, hopping on one foot, and the toe pads of the other was far easier than butt shuffling all over Clint's house.

Jagger joked that he should grab the dry mop for her to sit on so she could at least clean Clint's floors while she scooted around. Then he suggested she go to his place and do the same.

Brooke was grateful for Clint's youngest brother stopping by around lunchtime to check on her. He also brought her a Thai chicken noodle salad, which was delicious and filling. He didn't stick around to chat for as long as before, but his brief presence helped quell the loneliness and boredom that took root in her chest after Talia left for the day.

Hearing Rocco's voice on the phone, though, brightened everything inside her. Her brother was stateside and on his way to see her. If their terrible childhood proved anything, it was that they were stronger when together. They took care of each other and managed the impossible—which, in their case, had been surviving their father.

But the second time he called, rattled her something fierce.

Clint knew.

He knew about her father, that Fletcher was in prison. And he knew it was because Brooke turned her father in for killing her mother.

She felt no guilt for what she did. Her father was a terrible person and deserved to rot in prison, but she was so used to suppressing the first fifteen years of her life, that knowing someone she was developing feelings for knew the truth made a sick sensation form in her belly.

That Thai chicken salad wasn't sitting so great anymore.

What did Clint think of her?

He was an honest, upstanding man—probably the best man she'd ever met—but everyone had their threshold for crazy. Maybe this would be his.

She made herself a cup of tea and sat on the couch for a long time just thinking. Then she stared at the tablet, sitting innocently on the coffee table.

What was the world saying about her now?

How far out into left field were the conspiracy theories now?

The tablet mocked her from its spot on the coffee table until she gave into her curiosity and picked it up.

The rumors and speculations circling Brooke's disappearance ranged from suicide to alien abduction. There was even a subreddit thread that had over five hundred comments of people discussing the possibility of Brooke staging all of this for publicity for her movie premier. That she'd reveal herself on the red carpet. Apparently, Blake Lively had done a much less dramatic version a few years ago where she deleted all her social media to hype up a movie she starred in, playing a woman who staged her own disappearance.

But she never would have agreed to something like that, let alone something as extreme as faking her own death for publicity.

Most of the comments had positive tones, with people talking about how she was a talented actor and kind. But there were some nasty ones as well—there always were—that said she couldn't act, was discovered because she'd done porn (she absolutely had not, she was discovered at a mall while working for American Eagle Outfitters and became a model), and that her disappearance was one less entitled white woman the world was forced to deal with.

Usually, she didn't let comments like that affect her. There were always going to be haters out there. Internet trolls. Keyboard warriors. But with nothing else to do, it was easy to get swept up in the vortex of hate and have those creepy, strangling vines of loathing wrap around her chest and squeeze until they caused pain.

She was deep in a rabbit hole of conspiracy and toxic masculinity comments when the front door burst open, then banged closed, rattling the house. A quick glance at the clock on the tablet said it was three-thirty.

Talia must be home.

Heavy stomps up the stairs, followed by a bedroom door slamming, had Brooke closing the tablet and forgetting all about the disturbing threads about her alien abduction and cries for attention.

"Talia?" she called out, getting up off the couch and hopping toward the bottom of the stairs.

The muffled sound of sobs emanated down the stairs, hitting her hard in the heart.

Using the banister for support, she climbed the stairs, wincing when she accidentally put pressure on her right heel.

It took a bit more effort than normal for her to reach the top, but she made it nevertheless, then hobbled her way to Talia's closed door. She rapped her knuckle against the smooth grain. "Talia? Honey. Everything okay?"

More sobs, but no answer.

She knocked again. "Can I come in, sweetheart?"

No answer.

Talia wasn't her kid, and she knew better than to just enter a kid's room without permission. But at the same time, she'd come to care deeply for this little girl and Talia was clearly in pain. Brooke couldn't just sit downstairs and do nothing.

She knocked again. "I'm going to sit outside your door. I won't come in unless you want me to. But I also don't want you to be alone. Know that I'm here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

She slid down to the ground on her butt and heaved a sad sigh. Talia was such a bright and happy little girl. What could have possibly happened to make her run home, slam her bedroom door and sob so aggressively?

Noise on the other side of the door drew her attention, then the knob turned, and the door opened a crack. A second later, a little body made a big noise, collapsing back onto the bed, then the crying resumed.

That was Brooke's invitation.

She awkwardly stood back up and limped into Talia's room, sitting on the corner of her bed and running her hand gently over the little girl's silky curls that spread out over her mermaid bedspread. "Want to talk about it?"

Talia shook her head.

"Okay. We can just sit here. We don't have to talk. Or you don't. I might. If that's okay?"

The sobs were muffled against the bed, and her little body trembled with each stuttered breath. She peeled her head up enough to look at Brooke, though and stiffly nodded.

Smiling, Brooke just continued to run her hand over the top of Talia's head, the way Brooke's mother used to do for her when Brooke would get upset.

Despite her mother's flaws, she'd done the best she could, given the circumstances. She loved her kids deeply and protected them as best she could. But she'd been weak. Trapped. There was only so much she could do given the power and rage Brooke's father held over their heads like an anvil dangling by a fraying cable.

"One time when I was about your age, maybe a little younger, I came running home from school so upset because Albert Walter had called me stupid."

Even though Talia's body still trembled, the quivers were less, and the sobs grew quieter. She was listening.

"I told my mom, and she asked me, ‘Well, are you stupid?'"

"I shook my head, because of course I wasn't. I knew I wasn't. I was a great speller and good at math. I wasn't stupid."

Talia turned her head and gazed up at Brooke with red-rimmed, watery blue eyes, waiting for Brooke to finish the story.

Brooke swept the little girl's hair off her face but continued to stroke. "So then, my mother smiled and said, ‘Then his words are just hot air coming out of a hole in his face. They're wrong and they mean nothing. You choose when that hot air hurts you. When it's steam and burns. The bully doesn't get to choose.'"

Talia blinked big eyes as Brooke's words sunk in.

"I still have to deal with bullies. People who don't like my movies. They say I can't act or that there's nothing special about me. But I know that I make good movies. I know that I'm special. So their words are just hot air coming out of a hole in their faces. But I don't let that hot air burn me. I let it disappear in the wind."

"We're making gifts for Mother's Day at school," Talia said, her breath coming out shaky.

Ah. Yeah, that had to be tough.

"And Barnacle started making fun of me for not having a mom. He asked who I was going to give my present to." Her bottom lip wobbled.

Brooke blinked a few times and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Barnacle? Is that the name of a kid in your class?"

She nodded and giggled.

"Well, first of all, that kid has one of the worst names in the world. Is his brother's name Clam?"

Talia giggled again and shook her head. "He doesn't have any brothers or sisters."

"Does he at least go by Barney?"

"His parents won't let him. They say barnacles are strong and resilient. That it's a good name. That's what he says anyway when people ask about his name."

"So is concrete but you don't name your kid that."

Talia's giggle eased the strain in Brooke's chest.

"Back to Barnacle and his teasing, though. That was probably really hard to hear, and it hurt like he intended it to, huh?"

She nodded. "I mean, I know his parents are going through a divorce, so he's lashing out. That's what I heard one of the teachers telling another teacher. But it still hurt." She swallowed. "But I guess I let it hurt me?"

"It takes practice not to let words hurt. Trust me. Even at thirty-two, I still let a few mean words hit my heart and cause pain. It's hard to ignore them all if there are enough."

"I'm sorry people try to hurt you."

Brooke smiled gently. "Thank you."

"I just ..." she sat up and shuddered, "I'm forgetting my mom. And that worries me. It's not my first Mother's Day without her, but it's the first one where I'm having a hard time remembering her face without looking at a picture." Her throat rolled on a swallow. "Emme and Aya feel the same. So do the boys. We're all forgetting our moms."

"Ah. I see."

"I don't want to forget her."

Brooke ran her hand down Talia's head again. "Of course not, sweetheart. I know that. And your mom knows that, too." She glanced around the room, her eyes settling on a bookshelf against the wall. But she couldn't find what she was looking for. "Do you have any photo albums of when you were a baby?"

Talia's eyes brightened, and she nodded, sliding off her mattress onto the purple microfiber loop rug on the floor. She reached under her bed and pulled out a clear, shallow bin on wheels. Lifting the lid just a smidge, she reached inside and hauled out two thick photo albums, handing them to Brooke. "My mom was a picture taker. Like she had one of those big fancy cameras that she brought everywhere."

"That's awesome," Brooke said with enthusiasm, welcoming Talia back onto the bed. The little girl didn't hesitate and snuggled in next to Brooke as she opened one of the albums on the bed. They both giggled immediately. It was a naked baby Talia on a furry white rug with her butt in the air. She was looking back at the camera behind her with a cheeky smile on her face.

The first few pages were just of Talia in various poses. She couldn't have been more than a few months old. Old enough to hold her head up, but still pretty new.

After the fourth page, there were more candid shots that included Clint and his wife.

Talia's mother had been beautiful.

Mahogany colored hair with subtle caramel highlights, a slim face, bright eyes and high cheekbones. Her smile was electric, and you could tell she loved being a mother, the way her eyes practically glowed amber when she was with Talia. Brooke could feel the love and bond between mother and daughter.

"She's so pretty." Brooke stoked Talia's head again. "You're just like her."

Talia glanced behind her at Brooke, a smile in her eyes but a wrinkle to her nose and a frown on her lips. "But I have dark hair and blue eyes like my dad."

"Yes, but you have your mom's nose." She bopped Talia's nose with her fingertip. "And her cheekbones." Then she bopped her cheeks. "And her smile." That made the little girl light up. "And unlike your dad, whose eyes are blue with white flecks, your eyes are blue with gold swirls—which is like your mom's amber eyes."

Talia leaned forward to get a better look at her mother's eyes, then she hopped off the bed and went to check out her own eyes in the long mirror beside her nightstand. "You're right. I do have gold in my eyes." Her smile made the entire room get brighter. She returned to the bed and snuggled into Brooke before turning the page.

They both started to laugh again at the picture of Talia, naked on Clint's bare chest. The first photo was sweet, the second one, not so much. Talia must have pooped. The look of horror on Clint's face was priceless as an orangy-brown smear covered his torso from the bottom of his ribs, down past his belly button.

"I pooped on him!" Talia exclaimed.

"And he loves you anyway," Brooke said with a chuckle.

They continued to look through the photo album, and with each turn of the page, Brooke could feel Talia's pain soften.

They reached the end of the first album, which ended on Talia's second birthday, then moved on to the next one. But it was only halfway full. It covered her third birthday, and a few months after that, the pages were empty. Which was probably because Jacqueline had died.

Talia exhaled deeply when they reached the last page of photos. "She died after this, I think."

They were quiet for a moment, staring at the wide smile of Talia's mother as she hugged Talia tight down on the beach, buckets and sand toys surrounding them as gulls swooped on the breeze in the background.

"My mom passed away when I was fifteen," Brooke whispered.

Talia turned her head to glance at Brooke over her shoulder.

Brooke nodded. "I was older than you when she died, and I still remember a lot of her, but the memories are fuzzy in some places. And just because I was older when she passed doesn't mean I don't miss her any less. She was a wonderful mom. And it really sucks that she died."

Talia swallowed. "I'm sorry she died."

"I'm sorry your mom died."

She held the little girl's gaze for a long moment, memorizing every freckle, every angle of her face. She was such a beautiful mix of her parents.

"H-how did your mom die?" Talia whispered.

Brooke's heart did a heavy thud against her ribs as the image of her mother's death flashed through her mind. It was something she'd never forget. Hearing the crack and watching her mother's lifeless form crumple to the kitchen floor at her father's feet.

She threw on a bleak smile. "She hit her head."

Talia's eyes went wide. "That was it?"

Brooke nodded. "It was a really hard hit. And as tough as our skulls can be," she knocked her knuckles gently and playfully on the top of Talia's head, "they're not like a bike helmet. Which is why we always wear our bike helmets right?"

Talia looked horrified, and Brooke started to wonder if she'd said too much. "That's terrible," the little girl said, her voice sad.

"Yeah, it is."

Talia spun around and wrapped her arms around Brooke's middle, hugging her tight. "I'm sorry your mom died," she said again. "And I'm sorry my mom died. And my aunties died. And my dad's mom—my grandma—died. Why do all the moms have to die?"

"I don't know, sweetheart," Brooke said, hugging Talia back and resting her cheek on the top of her head. "It's not fair, and it doesn't make any sense."

They held each other for a while, neither of them said anything. They didn't need to. They were just two girls who had lost their mothers and were comforting each other.

A rumble from Talia's belly finally made them break their embrace. A few hot tears had slid down Brooke's cheeks as they hugged, and she grieved her mother and Talia's mother. As she grieved for all the mothers who had been snatched from their children, leaving the kids lost and in mourning. Even though her mother had been gone now for over half her life, Brooke would always grieve for her. Always wished things had gone differently and that her mother had listened to her when Brooke begged her to run. To take her and Rocco and leave their father. But her mother had been too scared. She said that Brooke's dad would always find them. He had control of the money, and he had resources. He'd alienated her from all her family. She had nothing. Nothing but him.

Another gurgle from Talia's belly made Brooke smile. "I spied double-stuffed Oreos in the cupboard earlier. Do you think your dad would be okay if we had a couple with a big glass of cold milk?"

A spark hit Talia's face, which, because her dad wasn't there and she assumed approval, quickly rationed her excitement. "I think he'd be okay with it."

"All right then, let's go have some milk and cookies and you can fill me in on this Barnacle kid."

Talia giggled and hopped off the bed. Brooke stood up, too, and let Talia go ahead of her as she hobbled to the door.

Talia turned the corner and immediately said, "Oh! Hi, Dad. You're home."

Brooke's heart stuttered. She didn't hear the front door open. How long had he been home? How long had he been upstairs?

Then another revelation hit her. If Clint was home, that meant Rocco was there, too.

Ignoring the trepidation in her chest over Clint hearing her very personal conversation with Talia, Brooke picked up speed and rounded the corner, determined to get down to her brother.

Her gaze locked with Clint's, and heat swam in the Prussian blue of his irises. His throat undulated on a hard swallow. "Hello."

"Hello," she whispered.

"Brooke?" came Rocco's voice from downstairs.

She blinked, and the trance between her and Clint was severed. "Roc?" she replied with giddiness, side-stepping around Clint to head to the stairs.

"Hang on," Clint said, rounding on her and scooping her up before she could protest. "Watching you limp like a lame horse is painful." He spoke with mirth, and he grinned down at her—though wariness swam in his eyes—as he followed Talia down the steps.

"Creek!" Rocco exclaimed when he saw Brooke in Clint's arms. A quick flash of confusion flickered in his green eyes as his gaze bounced from Clint to Brooke, but he banished his confusion quickly.

"Stono!" Brooke greeted, sliding out of Clint's arms and taking two careful steps toward her brother, who wrapped his arms around her in a tight bear hug. She squeezed him just as tight. It was hard to believe he was there. In the flesh. Her family. The only one that mattered, anyway.

"Creek?" Talia asked with confusion. "Stono?"

Brooke and Rocco chuckled and broke their embrace. "Creek is another word for brook, and when I couldn't come up with something equally clever for Rocco, I went with something dumb, and just chose stone and added an O to the end of it. ‘Cause you know, rocks and stones. It's dumb, but we've had these nicknames for each other since we were little kids. Possibly even younger than you."

Talia snickered. "It is dumb, but I like it."

Clint shot her a brief scowl, but it didn't last.

"Talia, this is my brother, Rocco. Rocco, this is Clint's extremely bright, extremely funny and extremely cheeky daughter, Talia."

"It's very nice to meet you, Talia," Rocco said with a head nod.

Elation and relief vibrated through Brooke as she looked at her brother. There were smudges of shadows beneath his eyes, his blond hair was mussed like he'd run his hand through it a few too many times and the sides of his mouth seemed bracketed with tension. But he seemed healthy, and he didn't stink as badly as she anticipated after spending nearly a day in airports and on airplanes.

"Milk and cookies?" Talia asked, directing her question back to Brooke. However, a noise from her father had Talia seeking permission from Clint. "Can we, Dad?"

Clint nodded slowly. "Two, max. Don't want to spoil your dinner. I ordered chicken fried rice from the kitchen."

"Mmmm," Talia hummed as she headed into the kitchen.

"I wouldn't mind grabbing a shower, actually," Rocco said. "I feel like airplane."

Brooke and Clint both snorted, and Clint nodded. "I'll show you to the guest room and bathroom."

Brooke's eyes widened. "Uh ..."

Clint gave her a curious look, tilting his head.

"Uh, I'm in the guestroom, am I not?"

Understanding dawned on him, and he cleared his throat. "Oh, uh ... right. Sorry, I ..."

"You two are sleeping together, hmm?" Rocco asked, with an almost bored tone.

Brooke couldn't look her brother in the eye. Neither could Clint.

"I'm guessing Talia doesn't know, though, and me staying in the guestroom blows your cover?"

Brooke nibbled on her bottom lip.

"We can put you in the study slash gym on a blowup mattress," Clint offered, a look of guilt creasing his face. Brooke felt guilty, too. She was exiling her brother to the study and a blowup mattress while a proper bed was going to sit completely empty upstairs, all so she could have sex with a man she'd just met and who kept saying they had no future.

Rocco lifted a shoulder and bobbed his head. "Sure. That works. I'm not picky."

"Sorry," Brooke mouthed as Rocco took off up the stairs after Clint.

Rocco shrugged again and shook his head in dismissal. "It's all good."

Brooke took off toward the kitchen where Talia was ready at the table with napkins, Oreos and two glasses of milk.

Brooke smiled as she absorbed the little girl's new attitude. She hummed an upbeat tune and smiled as she put the Oreo box back in the pantry. When she spied Brooke, her smile grew wider. "Your brother seems nice."

"He's very nice." Brooke took a seat at the table. "He's a veterinarian. He works mostly with hurt jungle animals in Brazil. Like monkeys and toucans, jaguars and sloths. Pretty cool, huh?"

Talia nodded with wide eyes and joined her at the table. "Have you ever seen a monkey in real life?"

"Last time I went to visit him, I got to hold a baby howler Monkey. It slept in my arms."

"Wow," Talia said with amazement. "That's a really cool job. I'd love to work with baby monkeys."

"I think you'd make a great vet."

Shyly, the little girl lifted one shoulder, but Brooke could see the cogs spinning in her head. "So your brother and my dad are going to help find the person who pushed you off the boat?"

"That's what we're hoping for. I can't do much since the whole world thinks I'm dead and we need to keep it that way a little longer."

Carefully pulling the first Oreo apart, Talia licked the cream filling, then dunked the bare cookie side into her milk, holding it there for several long seconds.

Brooke smiled and glanced down at her own cookies.

"What?" Talia asked, taking a bite of the softened Oreo.

Shaking her head, Brooke did the exact same thing, pulling apart the Oreo carefully so one side was covered in the cream, the other was empty. "It's just ... that's exactly how I eat my Oreos, too." Then she dunked the barren side into her milk.

Talia beamed and leaned over to knock her cream covered side against Brooke's cream covered side. "Cheers to Oreo twins."

Brooke's heart thudded hard. She was falling in love with this little girl—and her dad—and it was getting more and more difficult to think about leaving them. "Cheers to Oreo twins," she said, a lump in her throat. Then she took a bite of the cookie and let the sugar rush mask her worries.

Maybe it didn't have to be temporary.

Maybe she could become more permanent in their lives.

Maybe this was where she was meant to be.

Maybe Clint could love her, too.

Maybe ...