22. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Brooke returned to the house with a heavy heart.

Bennett and Rocco met her with grim expressions.

"My being here is already getting people hurt. I need to go." Her throat ached as a tight knot lodged itself right at the top, and tears stung the backs of her eyes.

"It was an accident," Bennett said, though his tone wasn't convincing.

"An accident that never would have happened if I wasn't here," she pointed out, meeting her brother's gaze. "Nobody else can get hurt. And the press is just going to keep coming."

"We'll figure out a way to keep them from coming up here. Install a gate if we have to," Bennett offered. "But I agree with Clint that you are safe here."

"I might be, but the rest of you aren't. At least not from having your peaceful lives disrupted. This isn't what you signed on for."

Bennett didn't say anything, but she could tell from his eyes that he didn't disagree with her. It was one thing for Clint to bring her to their little haven when the world thought she was dead, but now that the world knew otherwise, they were all caught up in the mess that was her life.

"Let's just wait to hear how Talia is and what Clint has to say when he gets back," Rocco offered, tossing a comforting arm around her shoulders. "We won't make any hasty decisions just yet."

Brooke buried her top teeth in her bottom lip to keep it from trembling and tried to swallow.

She loved Talia. And the idea of that little girl being hurt ripped Brooke's heart clear from her chest. She never wanted anything to happen to Clint's daughter. Nothing besides joy and wonder, miracles and all the luck in the world. She deserved that. All the children did.

"We'll obviously be filing a lawsuit against the driver," Bennett said, all business. "You didn't happen to recognize him, did you?"

Brooke shook her head. "No, I'm sorry."

Bennett dismissed her with a shrug. "Doesn't really matter. We have cameras all over the parking lot and road. His speed and everything will be caught on camera."

"A lot was caught on camera. There were at least thirty phones pointed at me when I went down there. I'm sure my face and location have now been plastered all over the internet—again."

"PR team will clean that up," Rocco tried to reassure.

"I'm just going to go lay down for a bit," she said, suddenly feeling absolutely exhausted. "Please let me know when they get home."

Rocco and Bennett nodded.

"All the kids are at my place. I'm going to go check on them," Bennett said, heading to the front door.

Brooke climbed the stairs and paused in front of the open guest bedroom door, staring at the bed. At the moment, and based on how Clint looked at her when he left with Talia, she wasn't so sure he'd welcome her into his bed right now. She didn't want to be presumptuous and climb on to it, only to have him ask her what the hell she was doing there when he got home.

The guest room didn't feel as safe or comforting as Clint's bedroom did, though. Neither did the bed.

She pulled a blanket over her jeans and white T-shirt, because despite how warm the mid-May day was, a chill took hold of her bones and refused to let go.

Maybe Inez was right. Maybe she would just be better off back in her house in Monterey. With her front gate, security guards, bodyguards and electric fence.

But the idea of returning there, after being somewhere so warm and inviting, so homey and filled with love, just made that chill sink even deeper until she shivered.

If she never returned to that home again, she wouldn't shed a tear.

Not that there was anything wrong with it. It was a perfectly fine house—if not a little too big. Okay, maybe a lot too big. But it was also really lonely. Even after hiring an interior decorator to help "warm up" the house, it still felt cold and lifeless. At least compared to this house.

She didn't even realize she'd fallen asleep until the echo of Clint and Talia's voices downstairs roused her.

She climbed off the bed, keeping the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and headed to the top of the stairs where Talia, with a hot pink cast, smiled up at her. She lifted her arm. "Just a hairline fracture. And a mild contusion to my head. Otherwise, I'm fine."

Rocco snorted from where he was on the couch. "Just a mild contusion, huh?"

Talia beamed. "Dr. Malone taught me that word. Also, hairline fracture."

Fresh tears threatened to spill over, and Brooke's throat was once again tight. She met Clint's gaze. She couldn't read it.

"Want to come sign it?" Talia asked. "Dr. Malone gives out Sharpies when he puts on casts. Everybody gets to pick three colors. I picked black, blue and purple."

Brooke nodded stiffly and descended the stairs, joining Talia on the couch where she drew a heart and wrote, You are the toughest person I know. Love Brooke.

Talia read it and smiled. "I'm tough, but my wrist apparently isn't."

Rocco signed it next, added a small drawing of a monkey, which got Talia laughing.

Brooke tried to snag Clint's eye as he made his way into the kitchen, but it was like he was refusing to look at her on purpose.

Rocco caught on, and his brow furrowed.

Pulling in a deep breath and rising to her feet, Brooke followed Clint into the kitchen. "I will be out of here first thing in the morning. I'll call Inez and have her send a car. I don't want anybody else getting hurt. Talia is hurt because of me. Because I'm here."

His lips were pinned together, and his eyes roamed her face as if searching for a different solution. A solution that allowed them to have their cake and eat it, too. Where she could stay here, but keep the paparazzi and press from getting anywhere near her—near any of them.

Then he blinked and abruptly shook his head. "No. This is still the safest place for you. Until the killer is caught. We just need to stay away from the public spaces. I'll tell the kids to stick to the hillside, and you will need to stay in the house again. We'll put a gate at the entrance to the hill so nobody can come up here without being buzzed in by one of us. I'm committed to helping you, Brooke. I said I would, and I intend to keep my promise."

"But Talia—"

"Is my main priority, yes. But I'm also teaching her to honor her commitments."

Ouch!

That stung more than she thought it would.

He saw her as no more than a commitment now. As a promise made and a promise needed to be kept. That was it. Nothing more.

Rolling her bottom lip under, she plunged her top teeth into it and nodded. "Okay." Then she made her way back to the living room, pasting on a smile for Talia, even though all she wanted to do was scream, cry and throw things.

Even now, her would-be killer was messing with her life. With her happiness.

They'd tried to kill her and failed, and now, her heart was in a million pieces, and she couldn't even leave to go and let it heal properly.

"Can we watch a movie, daddy?" Talia asked from the couch.

"Sure," Clint replied.

Talia beckoned Brooke over, and she and Rocco flanked the brave little girl as Talia put on Brave and dragged Brooke's blanket across all their laps.

She couldn't see him, but she could feel him watching her. Feel him pulling away emotionally.

He may not tell her, but she already knew tonight she'd be sleeping in the guestroom.

Brooke made sure to stay in bed long enough that she heard Clint leave for work in the morning before she got up. Talia made the best of the situation. Her cousins had all signed her cast, and as she liked to point out—at least it wasn't her right wrist, since she was right-handed.

The kids all headed off to school, leaving Brooke alone with her heartache. Rocco tried to cheer her up, but it didn't do much good.

Clint spoke with her, but only briefly, and it was all very mechanical. He never questioned her returning to the guest room and actually seemed relieved that she'd taken that initiative on her own.

That just further gutted her. The fact that he was avoiding having any kind of real conversation with her. No, they weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, but it still felt like a breakup. A really shitty breakup.

Dumped again.

Only this time, she was still forced to live with her ex-boyfriend and interact with his kid.

All she wanted to do was leave.

But Clint wouldn't allow it.

Every day, someone showed up wanting to interview Clint or his brothers, or speak with Brooke. All the pub staff had been approached, and even the cabin guests were starting to complain of being harassed.

Nobody had ventured up the hill to the houses again, not after the gate was installed, but that didn't mean they didn't try.

Every night when Clint returned home, he seemed more and more upset. More frustrated and exhausted. That his haven of peace and safety had been compromised.

She hadn't seen any of Clint's brothers since Sunday, when Talia had been hit.

They hadn't even done the Mother's Day party like they planned to. Everything kept getting postponed.

But there was no escaping the party now. It was Thursday night, and Jagger made sure that all the mothers' favorite foods had been prepared by the kitchen, all the cookies were decorated as well as cards, crafts and pictures.

A decent distraction from Brooke's sad thoughts.

She and Rocco were with all the kids at Clint's house, setting up the table with food and photos to honor the mothers.

All the dads knew how important this was to their children, so they made sure to book the evening off.

Brooke was just wiping down the counter when the front door opened. The cousins worked together to make a banner and were holding it, all in a line, as their dads walked in.

"Surprise!" most of them yelled.

Except for one little boy—probably Silas, who yelled, "Happy birthday!"

"What's all this?" asked one of the dads, not Clint.

"It's a Mother's Day dinner for our dads," Emme said.

"Because we don't have moms," Aya added unnecessarily.

Brooke cringed a little.

The men and children made their way around the corner and into the dining room and kitchen.

"Oh wow!" Wyatt's eyes went wide. "Did you guys do all of this?"

"Uncle Jagger helped. But it was all Brooke's idea. She and Rocco helped the most," Talia said.

"It's a Mother's Day party to celebrate our mothers with all their favorite things, but also celebrate our fathers because you are now also our mothers." Emme's lips twisted in hesitation. "Do you guys like it?"

The men mostly seemed speechless for a moment, but slowly, they all nodded as they took in everything. Even Clint nodded.

"Burke cooked the food," Talia said. "Uncle Jagger helped with that part."

"Then we collected pictures and made cards and cookies and crafts and stuff," Aya added.

Clint's eyes met Brooke's and a familiar fire—maybe a little less scorching than the times before, but no less heart-melting—burned in his gaze.

Her pulse raced through her veins, and her cheeks warmed.

"Can we eat?" Jake asked. "Aunt Carla liked Spanakopitas and I do, too, so I really want one."

"Yes," Wyatt said with a laugh, ruffling his son's hair, "we can eat."

Everyone dove in.

Rocco took a step back into the living room to give the family some space, so Brooke did the same. The kids were loud enough, though, that she could hear the stories and the questions about their mothers. The dads gave their best answers, but she could tell some of them were getting a little choked up.

"Where's Brooke and Rocco?" one of the kids asked after a few minutes.

"It's okay," Brooke said, her own throat tighter than normal. "This is for you guys."

Little feet thundered on the floor, then all the kids appeared, glaring at her and Rocco as they sat on the couch.

"You helped us do this. You're family now. You need to come and eat with us, too," Emme said. "We couldn't have done this without you."

Clint appeared behind the children and nodded. "Please, join us." That heat was still there in his eyes. It confused her, even though it still made her belly quiver and her heart take flight.

She and Rocco agreed and joined the family in the kitchen where everyone filled their plates.

"Aunt Carla liked Spanakopitas, Aunt Sheila liked chicken parmesan, my mom liked Pad Thai, and Aunt Remy liked pizza," Talia said, after Brooke and Rocco found spots to lean on in the kitchen. "It's a weird mix of food."

"It's a delicious mix of food," Rocco added.

Brooke picked up one of the Spanakopitas on her plate and took a bite. Clint's eyes on her were like laser beams. Hot and potent. Deliberate and life-altering.

She didn't want to get her hopes up, though.

He'd basically ignored her for three days.

This was his MO. Whenever something got too hard, he just shut down.

Lost in thought, and avoiding Clint's eyes with every ounce of self-restraint, she didn't even hear Rocco's phone ring in his pocket. Only when he put it to his ear, did she rejoin the present.

"Sergeant Fox, how are you?" Rocco asked, putting his plate down on the counter. "Yeah, things have been a little crazy here, too. Endless paparazzi and media. You'd think a celebrity had never returned from the dead before."

Nobody laughed, and Rocco frowned when his joke fell flat.

"Any new news?" Rocco asked. There was a long pause where Sergeant Fox spoke. "Seriously?" Rocco asked. "I'm ... I'm going to put you on speakerphone. Hang on. Also, there are kids here, so ..."

He hit the speaker and held out his phone.

"As I said," Sergeant Fox started, "it looks like we've caught who pushed you off the boat."

"What?" Brooke nearly dropped her plate. She set it beside Rocco's. Tingles raced through her arms and legs. Her brain was a little fuzzy, like when you sit up too quickly and get light-headed. "Wh-who?" she stammered. "Who pushed me? Who wants me dead?"

"Well ... it looks like it wasn't a hired hit at all. Just an obsessed fan."

Eyes all over the kitchen went wide as saucers.

"H-how did you find the guy?"

"An anonymous tip. Apparently, he was a waiter at the party. We raided the man's house late last night and found photos of you all over his wall. Just a crazed stalker fan who took things too far, it seems. We have no reason to suspect your father, aunt or uncle anymore."

If she didn't sit down, she was going to puke.

Slowly, with her back to the cupboards, she slid down to her butt, blinking and absorbing everything the sergeant just said.

"D-did you get a confession?" she whispered, her voice sounding strange in her own head. Did she even say it out loud? She swallowed and cleared her throat.

"Yeah, actually. We did," the sergeant replied. "You can breathe easy now. There's nobody out there who wants you dead."

"Brooke?" Rocco nudged her, and that's when she realized she still sat on the floor, looking straight ahead. She'd been in a trance, not hearing anything but the thoughts in her own head, and even that was more of just a buzzing sound. Apparently, Rocco and the sergeant had continued to speak.

"Huh?" she asked, blinking a bunch and shaking her head to clear her mind.

"The sergeant asked if you're going to head back to Monterey now?"

Her eyes found Clint's immediately. Need and confusion burned back at her so hot her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

"I ... uh, I guess so ... "

"If you're still worried, I can have police detail posted outside your home in Monterey," Sergeant Fox assured.

"And Inez said she already had bodyguards and security in place," Rocco offered.

Brooke nodded. She still hadn't looked away from Clint.

It was impossible.

His eyes said so much. He wanted her. But he wasn't sure if he wanted her to stay.

"I just need a minute to process things," she breathed. "But yeah, I'll probably start making arrangements to head home."

"All right." The sergeant sounded tired. "I'll touch base with you tomorrow, then."

"Thanks, Sergeant," Rocco said, before disconnecting the call and smiled as he stood up, then held out a hand to help Brooke to her feet.

She took it and had to use the counter to steady herself. Her brain was fuzzy. Her heart hurt, and the devastating look in Clint's eyes gutted her to the point of agony.

"Well, now that that's sorted, I'll start looking into flights back to Rio," Rocco said with an easy smile. "Life can get back to normal."

"Yeah ..." Brooke whispered, once again meeting Clint's gaze, "back to normal."