BROOKE STOOD OUTSIDE the apartment and closed her jacket up under her chin. The day would eventually warm enough to shed several of her layers. But for now, she needed the extra warmth. The excited thumps of the dogs’ tails against the walkway drew Brooke’s attention. She looked over and her own excitement sparked. Dan walked across the backyard, his uniform replaced with a sweatshirt and workout pants.
Brooke waved. “You just missed Ben. Nichole picked him up. Your dad left to meet up with Jason.”
Dan nodded.
Up close, the deep shadows under his eyes and the gloomy cast to his gaze drew Brooke closer. “Are you okay?”
“Very long night.” Dan leaned over to greet the dogs.
The misery in his words and etched into the lines around his eyes was heartbreaking. Brooke wanted to hug him. Hold on until whatever ate away inside him ceased its assault. “Is there anything I can do?”
Dan scrubbed his hands in his hair, disrupting the wavy strands as if that would disrupt whatever haunted him. “Sometimes there are calls that hit hard, like a ten-ton brick dragging you under.”
“Does it help to talk?” She hadn’t believed a conversation could have such an impact for her, but she’d been wrong. She’d shared her dark past with Dan and shed a shroud from herself in the process. A shroud that shaded her view of the world around her.
Dan kicked at a pebble. “A twelve-year-old girl suffered a severe asthma attack at her grandparents’ house.”
She failed to mute her gasp. Ben was only a few years younger than that poor child.
“She’ll be fine,” Dan assured her. His touch on her shoulder soothed. “We wheeled her into the ER. Her frantic parents barreled into us. Her mother, hysterical, kept yelling her daughter’s name, her high heels slipping on her gown and the floor.”
“I imagine I’d have been the same.” Brooke picked up a tennis ball and tossed it into the yard. Both dogs raced off to claim it. “Is it Ben? That Valerie wouldn’t be there for him?” Brooke considered that. Hated it for Ben. Wanted very badly for Valerie to prove her wrong.
“Valerie.” Confusion pulled his mouth into a frown. “It’s not about her. It’s me.”
Brooke faced Dan. The ashen cast of his cheeks tipped worry through her. “You told me the little girl was fine.”
“Her father was in a tuxedo, his tie smashed and partly undone. Terror in his eyes.” Dan fisted his hands at his sides, dropped his head back and drew in a shaky breath. “‘Did she suffer?’ That’s all he kept repeating.”
Brooke, horrified, snared another gasp.
“He thought his daughter had died. Thought he hadn’t been there with her.” Dan wiped at his tears. “I stared into his eyes. Father to father, Brooke. Looked right into my own greatest...”
Fear. Brooke launched herself into his arms. Held on. Tighter and tighter. Until he curved his arms around her and squeezed. She stayed in his arms, waited for his breaths to even out. Waited for her own heart to slow. Minutes. Maybe longer. Time didn’t matter. Only Dan.
The tennis ball rolled against her foot. She peered down at Rex. He leaned against Dan’s legs as if offering his own encouragement.
“I’m too restless to sleep.” He pulled away and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Would you want to walk with me?”
“Let me get the leashes.” Brooke slipped inside, returned and handed him Rex’s harness.
A fragment of a smile drifted across his face. “I’ll let you lead the way.”
Brooke walked down the driveway, Luna beside her, and paused. Dan had looked directly into the face of his darkest fear—could she do the same? Have no regrets. What would she regret more: confronting her fear or always wondering about a life well lived? “Ben tells me there’s a larger park in the opposite direction. Do you know the way?”
Dan tilted his head and eyed her. His earlier anguish replaced with concern. For her. “You’re sure you don’t want to go the usual route?”
No, she wasn’t sure. Not at all. But the dog park wasn’t the accident site. She might be walking in the same direction. But no one was forcing her to go there. Not today or any day. Push your limits. “I thought the dogs might like a change.”
He nodded, then lifted his chin toward her. “I like the new clothes. The bright colors suit you.”
“Thanks.” Brooke’s smile was tenuous. Most of her new wardrobe had finally arrived. Was that the reason she wanted to try a different route? New clothes, new attitude. True, she felt different: lighter and freer. Still, it wasn’t the clothes exactly. She suspected it was more likely due to the man beside her. The man with fears as stifling and consuming as her own.
She fell into step next to Dan. Silence extended between them.
Around them, the city moved at its own pace. Runners clocking one more mile before that midmorning conference call. Mothers pushing strollers and relying on each other for support. Cars returning from the school drop-off line. People piling into the last express bus heading to the financial district.
Inside her, those old jitters surfaced. She accepted the nerves, allowed herself to fidget. And kept on walking.
At the park, Dan glanced at her. The anguish muted in his gaze. “This might be the balance that Ava has been lecturing me about.”
“Feeling better?” Brooke checked in on herself, too. She was better.
“More settled,” Dan admitted and pointed to a curved stone-and-grass path. “The dog play area is over there. Down that trail.”
Perhaps the fear would always be there, always willing to cast its shroud. Perhaps the challenge was to find the brightness within the dim gloom. The dogs. The park. Dan. This was the good. The dogs released to roam and smell, Dan and Brooke sat on a bench.
Dan stretched out his legs, stacked one ankle over the other and glanced at Brooke. “Valerie called to ask if Ben could spend the night at her hotel.”
No wonder he wasn’t completely settled. Brooke shifted on the metal bench—she’d forgotten all about her and Sophie’s plan regarding the sleepover. “I’m sorry. I talked to Valerie yesterday at the pet store. She might’ve gotten the idea from me.”
“Might have?” Dan asked.
Brooke unzipped her jacket. Had that warm weather already rolled in? “Valerie really wants you to trust her. I know that’s asking a lot, given your history.”
Dan rubbed his chin. “And a sleepover is going to fix that?”
“It’s a start,” Brooke hedged. “A chance to prove she can look after Ben.” Except the little girl with asthma had been with her grandparents and certainly, they’d looked after her. Yet she’d ended up in the hospital. Dread crept beside Brooke, offering its cloak. She swatted it away. The little girl was going to be fine. Ben would be fine, too.
“I told her I thought it was a good idea.” Dan studied the sky.
Brooke pulled back, unable to keep the surprise and skepticism out of her voice. “Really?”
“Yes.” Dan glanced over at her. Small shadows lingered under his eyes. Caution leveled the conviction in his tone. “Really.”
Brooke envied his control and ability to rein in his deepest fears. He was scared but wanted to do what was right for Ben. Could she dare to?
“I need to know if Ben is comfortable with Valerie. Going to dinner or spending the afternoon in the park is one thing.” He smoothed his hands over his hair. Uncertainty lingered. “An overnight is a whole different scenario.”
What-ifs prowled inside Brooke. She refused to drag them both under. Nothing was ever solved with pessimism—her often repeated words to her clients. “Ben could enjoy himself.”
“I’m still not sending him out of the country for a vacation.” Dan’s voice was matter-of-fact and firm. International vacations were not up for debate.
Brooke agreed. That could be one step too far. If something happened to Ben overseas, Dan wouldn’t forgive himself. “What if Valerie agreed to travel in the US?”
“If they’re going to Disneyland, I want to go.” Dan’s grin lifted his eyebrows, lightened those shadows.
Not a definitive answer. But Dan hadn’t shot down her suggestion. Brooke kept her request to join them to herself. “It’s something to consider.”
“And I will.” Dan shifted his legs to let Rex scoot under the bench. “Did you find any foster families at the pet store that matched Earl’s requirements?”
“Not one family. It’s so frustrating.” Brooke shifted and leaned against the bench. “I expanded the search across the bay.”
Dan urged Rex out from under the bench and pet his head. “I’d be concerned about the stress of a long-distance move on a dog Sherlock’s age.”
Sherlock wasn’t even Dan’s. The man who didn’t want pets now worried about other people’s animals. That slipped inside, adding more good. She had to be careful. Dan was taking up more and more space inside her heart. “I put distance as another consideration. I don’t think Earl would agree, either.”
“So, what can we do?” Dan met her gaze.
We. Brooke liked that. Too much. Her chest expanded. She’d forgotten how much she liked working through a problem, even a minor one, with someone. Someone she trusted and... “I’m not sure.”
“What if the family doesn’t meet his specific requirements? But they can offer something Earl didn’t think of in exchange,” Dan suggested.
Could that be the solution? Brooke faced Dan. Ideas rushed through her, boosting her resolve. “Maybe I could find a family who would bring Sherlock to the nursing home to visit Earl.”
“That could work.” Dan ran his hand through his hair. “Does the assisted-living center allow that? I know Ava and Sophie visit hospitals and nursing homes with the therapy dogs.”
“But Sherlock isn’t a therapy dog.” This was only a small roadblock, Brooke told herself. “I’ll visit the assisted-living center that Cara wants to move Earl into and find out.”
“It’s the best place to start,” Dan said.
Brooke gathered her confidence. She had to start someplace, too. “We should probably get more steps in. Then you can tell Ava you walked off your stress.”
“I liked sitting here in the park.” Dan reached his arms over his head and stretched. “Can all our walks include a break on a park bench?”
Brooke just wanted every walk to include Dan. She quieted the whispers inside her heart. Her heart was safe as things were. Wasn’t that all that mattered?
Dogs clipped to their leashes, Dan and Brooke strolled along the path. At the entrance, Brooke stopped. Left took her back to Dan’s house. Right took her back to her past.
Earl’s gravelly voice echoed through her. How do you know you’re living life right?
Her feet flexed, wanting to turn toward Dan’s house. Run away.
But had she run so far and so fast there was no place left to run? A different voice whispered through her. Telling her it was time. Time to live again.
Brooke zipped her jacket and the shiver inside her. Then turned right.
Dan set his hand on her arm. “You don’t have to go there.”
“What did Earl tell us?” Brooke tipped her chin up, strengthening her voice as if inspiring her resolve. “We have to push our limits. Do what scares us.”
“He’s an eighty-six-year-old man.” Dan closed the distance between them, his voice a mix of concern and affection. “What does he know?”
Earl knew loss. Grief. And living through the good and the very worst. Earl understood the richness of a life without regrets. Brooke locked her gaze on Dan’s. “You’ll come with me.”
“I’ll be right beside you.” Dan slid his hand down her arm and his fingers linked with hers. “Whether you turn back or go all the way, I’ll be right here.”
“I think I have to do this.” Brooke tightened her grip on Dan’s hand, using his assurance and composure to reinforce her spine. “Does that sound weird?”
Dan touched her chin and lifted her face up. His gaze, serious and intent, centered on her as if she had to see him to hear him. “It sounds brave.”
Brave. How she wanted to be that. Her voice hushed as indecisive as a last lingering patch of fog. “Can you be brave and terrified at the same time?”
“That’s the definition of courage.” Dan touched her cheek. One quick caress... “Being willing to face what scares you despite your fear.”
“Tell me something weird you’re afraid of.”
“Snakes.”
“You like to camp and hike.” She considered jogging, setting off into a brisk run. Then she’d have an explanation for the burning in her chest.
“As much as I can.” Dan tapped his shoulder against hers. “But don’t think I’m not on hyperalert, scanning for snakes everywhere. On the trails. In the trees. In my tent. Inside my sleeping bag.”
“Do you have a snake plan?” Brooke had no plan. The burn seared as if she’d hiked past the clouds to a mountaintop, not walked one block.
“Simple. Outrun the people I’m with.” His voice was bland, neutral against her winded nerves.
Brooke paused, concentrated on Dan like that buoy in a storm-tossed sea. “That’s not a plan the people with you will appreciate.”
Dan shrugged. “Then they should’ve trained harder.”
She appreciated Dan even more. For giving her a moment to collect herself. Could he feel the tremor in her fingers? See her pulse straining in her neck. “People with shorter legs are at a disadvantage next to gazelles like you.”
“I’ve never been compared to a gazelle,” Dan said. “Clearly you haven’t seen me run.”
“Lack grace and coordination.” Her lungs no longer lacked oxygen.
“Exactly,” he said. “Which gives you an advantage.”
“I’ll take that into consideration on our next hike.”
Dan’s gaze trailed over her face. One side of his mouth tilted upward, slipping satisfaction into his voice. “That sounds like you want to spend more time with me.”
Her pulse skipped again—the good kind. The kind that led to joy and hope. That was exactly what she wanted—more time with Dan. But she had a past to face. And a heart she’d sworn not to open. “Or I just want to beat you at a race.”
“Accepted.” Dan sobered and stepped fully into her space.
Into the pulse racing, any closer and they’d touch with the barest of shifts, space. The space that blocked the world out. That belonged to only them.
“Seriously, though.” Dan brushed her hair off her face as if he couldn’t see her. “I’m afraid every single day of failing Ben.”
“You’re a great father. The best. Dedicated. Involved.” Loving. Brooke placed her hand over his heart. How could he doubt himself?
“Thanks,” Dan said. “When Ben was younger, I realized I got to wake up every morning and choose what kind of father I’d be. I still make that choice every day. Same as I choose to put my patients first at work and my fears second. Some days I’m more successful than others. But each day is another chance to try again.”
He was telling Brooke that she had a choice, too. That even if she turned around now, she could make a different choice tomorrow. The volume increased on her inner voice. How much longer could she keep running? How much longer could she avoid living? “I want to keep going.”
Dan moved to her side, tucked her hand back in his and let Brooke set the pace.
One block later and Brooke wanted to punch whatever it was that propelled her forward.
The pain and grief surged inside her, pummeling her. Trying to root her in place. Trying to seal her leaden feet to the cement. When had the sidewalk become quicksand?
Dan and the dogs slowed with her. The last block stretched like a time warp.
One step at a time. Would she ever want to run to something and not away?
The air dissolved around her as if extracted by the phantoms from her past. One foot in front of the other.
Until finally, she stood at the intersection of Bayview and State Streets. The site of the accident on the opposite side—diagonally across from her.
Emptiness stole inside her.
The night replayed in her mind. Glimpses of time frozen and framed: dinner tucked inside a quaint booth. Laughing after finally shaking off the workday stress. Being present together without cell phones or distractions. The plump miniature apple pie piled high with homemade vanilla ice cream. Splitting the last bite.
Window-shopping. Senseless. Fun. Devastating. A shudder built from her feet as if the ground shook, not her knees.
Brooke braced her legs, blinked and focused on the shops wrapping around the busy corner. The stores had changed. Or perhaps not. That hadn’t ever been the important part.
The part worth remembering had been holding hands. Having a connection with another person. A connection that linked two hearts.
Brooke glanced down at her hand tucked safely inside Dan’s. A different hand. As it should be. It was a different time. Yet his grip was protective, too, perhaps even more.
The connection was there. In the warmth. In the strength. In the not wanting to let go. And the linking-two-hearts part—that could definitely be there.
If she dared. If she dared to do what scared her.
But that was for later.
First, she had to face a different sort of fear. The fear of letting go. Allowing the past to rest a little easier, a little quieter inside her. Balancing the memories. Finding comfort in the good rather than focusing only on the bad. Carving out a piece of her heart for the past—for what was. All that she once had. But there was room. Room for more.
Brooke stood silent for another five minutes. Ten. The dogs sat patiently beside her as if they, too, understood the importance of the moment. Dan never flinched. Never urged her to leave. Never released her hand.
Finally, Brooke said, “I’m ready.”
Dan released her and brushed the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. His tone was tender. His voice was raw as if her tears—her pain—was his own. “Only if you’re sure.”
Brooke closed her eyes, leaned against him. His warm caress seeped deep inside to those cold places and exhaled. “I’m sure.”
Dan touched her cheeks one last time. Wiped the last of her tears away and searched her face. He nodded then and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead.
And Brooke’s heart burst open. Open and unguarded. The truth clamoring to be heard.
She wasn’t falling in love. She was already in love. With Dan.