Page 133 of Rescued by the Single Dad

“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.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

He was a motherfucking coward, and he knew it. He shoved his fingers into his hair as he stood in the shower, allowing the slightly too hot water to sluice down his back.

This was the third time he’d shut down and shut Brooke out when things got hard.

But in all fairness, this was all he knew.

This was how he and Jacqueline operated. Whenever there was a problem, she refused to talk about it and just shut down and shut him out. So it became his MO as well. Then they floated around each other like two pieces of driftwood in the surf, never speaking. Just coexisting until they just started speaking again like nothing had happened. Sometimes it was hours, other times days, sometimes a week or more.

He hated the pattern with Jacqueline, and he hated it even more now that he was perpetuating it with Brooke. But he also had no idea how to get out of it. It was a well-worn rut, and he was stuck.

He was also incredibly conflicted.

He wanted Brooke.

More than he wanted anything or anyone in possibly forever.

But he didn’t want her life. He didn’t want the busyness or the fame. Talia didn’t deserve to have her entire life documented by the press, and neither did Clint. His daughter had already been through enough losing her mother. Their dirty laundry and day-to-day didn’t need to be candidly shot and captioned for millions around the world.

So like a moron, unsure what to do, he pulled away.

He pulled away, but longed for her with every cell of his body.

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