Page 101 of Rescued by the Single Dad

Rocco hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. I just needed to be convincing and also see if we could trust you.”

The cop’s nostrils flared. “And do you?”

“We wouldn’t be calling you with Brooke in this video if we didn’t.”

The magnitude of their words hit Sergeant Fox hard, and his gaze softened. “I’m glad you’re okay and safe, Brooke.”

She smiled. “Thanks. Me, too.”

He looked at Rocco. “You’re thinking that by insulting your dad on social media or YouTube or whatever that’ll flush out whoever is working for him and put a target on your back?”

“That’s the idea,” Rocco said. “Dad never did like having his character dragged through the mud. I mean, the media is doing it for him, but when his own son jumps on screen, that should really push him over the edge.”

“Depends on how much access to social media he gets in prison,” Sergeant Fox said.

“He’ll see it eventually,” Rocco replied. “The man is resourceful when he wants to be.”

“I’m not going to say I like this idea, but,” the cop exhaled and shook his head, “at the moment, I can’t think of anything better. And as long as nobody knows where either of you are, you should be reasonably safe.”

“We just want my would-be killer to think they’re no longer a suspect because you found my body. And if it’s deemed a suicide, then the person who pushed me will think they’re in the clear and come out of hiding, or slip up. Revisit the scene of the crime. I don’t know. But right now, you have no leads, so by announcing a body and my cause of death, maybe you’ll get some leads.”

“Then Seattle’s finest can do what they do best and arrest the person who pushed my sister off a yacht,” Rocco said with anger. “Before I get my hands on them myself.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that last bit,” Sergeant Fox said, shaking his head again, clearly frustrated by the entire situation Brooke and her brother had forced him into.

“I’m sorry you’re caught in this,” Brooke said. “But we need somebody we can trust.”

“You can trust me,” the sergeant said, all earlier aggravation leaving his tone and eyes. “I promise.”

They thanked the sergeant once more, then hung up, the teasing irony of learning to trust a police officer through lies and misconduct hitting them in the face.

Rocco stood up from the couch. “Now it’s time to reach out to Ms. Tinsley McTavish.”

Brooke could only bring herself to smile grimly as her brother took off to the study. She wasn’t sure if he intended to slide into Ms. McTavish’s DMs or video cold-call the woman, but either way, Brooke didn’t want to be around for it.

A chill crept into her bones, and she stood up and went to the kitchen to turn on the electric kettle. The fact that she could walk without limping weirdly, or butt shuffling around the house was not lost on her. Her feet had healed enough that she could walk with little to no pain, and she was even wearing socks—that she ordered—and slippers. Not to mention a bra, underwear, a tight black T-shirt and cropped lilac yoga pants. She felt more like herself than she had since she washed up on shore four days ago.

Her conversation with Talia yesterday played on a loop in her head since waking up this morning. Her heart went out to the little girl. To all the McEvoy children, really.

Mother’s Day had to be a tough time for them. Not to mention Christmas and their birthdays and all other major celebratory occasions. But Mother’s Day in particular, since a lot of schools planned crafts or gifts for the children to make. She knew the gesture behind the activity was kind, but given all the different kinds of families there were out there now, it seemed a bit exclusive to her.

She wanted to do something to help Talia and her cousins, but at the same time not overstep.

Her first Mother’s Day without her mom had been a brutal one. She and Rocco were living with their paternal aunt and uncle, and the lack of compassion Brooke and her brother experienced was debilitating. Her cousins, of course, showered their mother with gifts, calling her the best mom in the entire world. That they were so happy she was still alive and they weren’t sure what they would do if she ever died.

Brooke and Rocco’s aunt ate it all up with glee, not telling her children to tone it down in the least. Meanwhile, Brooke and Rocco were forced to sit there with fake smiles on their faces and hear their cousins gloat about having a mother who was alive. Then, whether this was a slight or a blessing, Brooke could never quite decide, her cousins, aunt and uncle all went out for a Mother’s Day brunch, leaving Brooke and Rocco at home with a can of Beefaroni to split between them.

The kettle beeped that it was ready, and she poured the steaming water into the mug over an apple cinnamon flavored tea bag. The floral and fruity aroma wafted up her nostrils, instantly soothing her aching heart. This was her mother’s favorite tea blend. She always drank it in the evenings. Brooke added it to her online order at the last minute, and she was glad she did.

She lifted the mug up and held it under her nose, closing her eyes and remembering her mother sitting in her favorite chair, cradling her favorite mug with her favorite tea while watching The Young and the Restless (her favorite guilty pleasure).

Brooke’s eyes flew open.

An epiphany.

Maybe she could talk to the kids and find out what some of their mothers’ favorite things were. Then, on Sunday, they could have a Mother’s Day celebration. Put framed pictures around, serve their favorite food and drinks, play their favorite music and the dads and kids could all talk about their mothers and how wonderful they were.

Brooke would have loved it if someone did that for her.

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