before Millie followed Brooke into the room.
His daughter cradled Bunny in her arms in a fluffy towel. “Daddy, sniff.” She held out the stuffed animal to him. “He smells so good.”
He breathed deeply but all he got was a big whiff of wet fake fur. “That’s nice,” he told Brooke.
Millie grinned at him over Brooke’s head. “Laundry room?”
“To your left just past the table.”
She carried a small plastic stool in her hands. “Let’s get Bunny dry, Brooke. You can watch him spin while your daddy and I talk.”
To Jake’s surprise, Brooke nodded. Since he’d brought his daughter to Crimson, the only time she would let him out of her sight was when she slept. Maybe Millie Spencer was some sort of kid whisperer. Jake sure as hell needed one.
“So you’re Olivia’s sister?” he asked as Millie walked back into the room a few minutes later.
When she nodded, he added, “You two don’t look alike.”
“She’s actually my half sister. We have the same dad.”
“Did you grow up together?”
Her shoulders stiffened even as she gave him a gentle smile. “I’m guessing we only have a few minutes before your daughter gets bored watching the dryer. Is this really how you want to use that time?” She crouched down and began cleaning the paper towels from the floor.
“You don’t have to do that. It’s my mess.”
She didn’t stop to look at him. “Tell me about you and Brooke.”
When her chin-length hair fell into her face, she didn’t bother to push it away. He wanted to reach out himself, to see if the caramel-colored strands were as soft as they looked. The skin on her arms looked just as smooth, although he noticed how toned they were as she wiped up the spill.
“I first learned that I had a daughter two months ago.” He continued straightening the kitchen as her attention remained on the floor. Somehow the fact that both of them kept busy made it easier to tell the story. “Brooke’s mother was a doctor I knew from my travels, another aid worker. We were only together a few times when our paths crossed in the field. Then Stacy disappeared.” His fingers gripped the cup he’d just picked up so hard the plastic began to bend. He released his hold and loaded the cup into the dishwasher. “She found me where I was working near Haiti a couple of months ago to tell me I had a four-year-old daughter back in Atlanta who was asking about her father. Stacy wanted to give me a chance to be a part of Brooke’s life.”
“That must have been a real shock.” Millie stood and threw the wad of paper towels into the garbage.
Jake thought about her observation as he watched her wet a dish towel and begin wiping down the tile floor around the spill. “You really don’t have to do that.”
“It will be sticky otherwise,” she answered. “Keep talking, Jake.”
He hated this part of the story and the guilt and helplessness that went with it. Jake had spent most of his childhood feeling helpless to stop the damage his father caused in their family, and when he’d finally broken free, guilt over the siblings he’d left behind had become his replacement companion.
He’d never expected to return to Colorado, but it was the only real home he’d ever known. The fact that both of his brothers had settled in Crimson and seemed happy with their lives was part of why he’d brought Brooke to his hometown. For a few brief moments when he’d first arrived, he’d hoped this place would have some special effect on him. But he’d only felt overcome by memories and more trapped than when he’d been injured.
His family understood enough of what had happened that they didn’t ask questions he couldn’t answer. “I was shocked, to say the least. I’d never planned on having kids. My work is my life. Being a dad wasn’t part of the master plan. But I didn’t have time to think about what I wanted. Stacy and I argued and she left the hospital late at night. We’d been down there just a few days because of an earthquake and I’d been running on too much coffee and too little sleep. I didn’t even get a chance to process what she’d told me, but I followed her to the hotel. Once we got inside, there was an aftershock almost as big as the original. The roof of the hotel caved in, and she was killed.”
Millie straightened once more, shock evident on her face. “Brooke’s mother died?”
He gave a curt nod. “She should have never come down there like that. Things were too unstable.”
“It was a big risk.”
He looked past her, his guilt weighing so heavily that he finally had to explain in detail how he’d destroyed so many lives. “Stacy had called and emailed me over the course of several months. I thought she wanted to get together again and was avoiding her. I left her no choice but to track me down. In the end, I couldn’t help her because I was pinned under the rubble of the building. I held her hand in those last moments, but that’s all.” He gingerly crossed his arms over his chest. “Her parents were taking care of Brooke, but Stacy made me promise to look after her. She left custody to me, a man who didn’t even know his own daughter.” He shook his head, still unable to believe the events that had brought him here. “I had surgery on my wrist and ankle and then went to find Brooke.”
“The grandparents were willing to let her go?”
“For now.” He clenched his uninjured fist. “Brooke didn’t hesitate, which was the craziest part. Stacy had talked about me, had told Brooke she was going to find her father. My picture was in a frame on Brooke’s nightstand. I walked into their house in Atlanta, and she reached for me as if I’d been her dad forever. Like she’d been waiting for me.”
“Kids can be pretty amazing,” Millie whispered.
“I don’t know the first thing about being a dad, but I owe it to that little girl and her mother to try. Stacy’s parents still want to raise Brooke. I’m not sure what’s going to happen—there’s some nerve damage to my hand and it’s questionable whether I’ll be able to go back to my old job.”
“But you won’t leave Brooke?”
He heard the unspoken accusation in her tone and almost welcomed it. Everyone he knew had been tiptoeing around his future since he’d come back to the States. “I want what’s best for her. You saw me today. It’s highly unlikely that I’m it.”
“You’re her father.” Color flushed bright in Millie’s cheeks. “You can’t desert her now that she depends on you.”
He shrugged. “I’m in way over my head here.”
“I can help,” she answered immediately.
Jake could feel that tension radiated through her, an edginess at odds with her pixie haircut, hippie-girl sundress and shimmering skin. “Why do you want to help?” he asked, taking a step toward her. “What’s your story, Millie Spencer?”
A sliver of panic flashed in her eyes before she regulated her gaze. “I’ve worked at both elementary and preschools, but I’m between jobs. I’m almost finished with a degree in early childhood education and am taking a break from classes, which is why I came to visit
