Page 139 of Rescued by the Single Dad

Whatever it was, putting on his hoodie turned out to be a bad idea in hindsight. It just made her sadder.

She hadn’t even taken her first sip of her steaming tea before the first tear fell, turning the light gray of the sweater a darker shade.

She didn’t want to leave.

She loved it here. Loved everything about the island, about the property and the people that lived here. It was heaven. A little slice of hippy heaven plunked in the middle of the Puget Sound, just minutes from metropolitan Seattle.

But she couldn’t bring her chaotic world to the island.

They worked very hard to protect their way of life here. To protect their peace and their privacy.

It was mayhem since news of her being alive surfaced. Locals were getting angry with Clint and his brothers, saying news stations were harassing them. The ferry was even more backed up with longer sailing waits than ever before. And apparently Hattie Granger’s cat almost got run over by someone who’d simply come to the island to take a picture for their Instagram of them standing on the very rock where Clint found Brooke. Not that they really had any clue which rock, but people were attention whores and would make shit up for likes and clicks.

The guilt was real, and it was painful.

This family had already been through so much, they didn’t need this drama, too.

They deserved drama-free for the rest of their days.

Inhaling the fresh morning air, she took in her picturesque surroundings one more time. The rolling hillside behind the houses with tall grass and wildflowers all bedazzled in dew. The sun was just starting to peek over the trees, and when it hit a dew drop or two, they glittered like cut gems.

She would miss this, too.

She would miss everything.

“You sure you’re ready to leave?” came a familiar voice that made her smile .

She craned her neck around to see Rocco standing in the doorway. He wore a white T-shirt and khaki shorts.

“No,” she said plainly. “But it’s the right thing to do. Have you spoken with your lawyers?”

He grunted and nodded as he took a seat beside her in the other chair. “Yep. They’re making the amendments. If you die first and I get your inheritance, fine and dandy. Then if I die, all the money will go to the wildlife center.”

“Good. And if you die, then I die, all my money will go to the wildlife center, too.”

“Perfect. Either way, if we die, the animals get the money, not that piece of shit in prison or any of his mongrel family.”

“We’re part of that mongrel family,” she said gently.

“He was a fucking sperm donor, and that’s it. He was never a dad to us, you know that. These guys here, these men are what real fathers look like. They listen to their children. They spend time with their children. They actually fucking love their children. Fletcher saw us as burdens. As mouths to feed. We were nothing but unwanted dependents.”

Brooke gingerly sipped her tea. She didn’t disagree, she just didn’t want to talk about their dad any longer.

Noises in the house meant someone else was up.

“I want pancakes again, please, daddy,” Talia said.

“I think there are still some in the fridge,” Clint said before yawning.

Brooke’s heart did a heavy thump against her ribcage at the sound of his voice.

He poked his head around the corner a second later. “Good morning.”

“’Morning,” Rocco said, stretching his arms above his head so his T-shirt rose enough to reveal the bottom of his abdomen.

Clint’s gaze found Brooke’s. It was endlessly warm, and woke up every butterfly in her belly. “Good morning.”

She swallowed. “’Morning.”

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