Chapter Three

      As soon as he heard Brooke’s happy squeal, Jake knew Millie was back.

      It had been almost two hours since she’d left to get her things from Olivia and Logan’s, and the possibility that she wouldn’t return had occurred to him only a couple thousand times.

      He wouldn’t have blamed her.

      She might need a job, but his messed-up life was too complicated for most people to handle. Yes, his brothers and their wives had offered support more times than Jake could count since he’d returned to Crimson. But he was the oldest and the brother who’d never needed anything.

      How could he admit to them that he was so weak?

      All of their offers only brought back the flood of guilt about how he’d deserted their family years ago. He’d gotten a college scholarship that had enabled him to leave Crimson and their alcoholic father and never look back. Which he hadn’t, even when his younger siblings needed him. Even when Logan’s twin, Beth, had died in a tragic car accident. Even years later for their mother’s funeral. Jake had used school, then his residency and his work to avoid the past.

      He’d only returned because he had nowhere else to go. But he’d do all he could not to let himself depend on his brothers. He didn’t deserve their kindness.

      Still, they’d given it to him. Millie was proof of that. Jake would have gotten around to finding a nanny for Brooke, although even that had been difficult because he was too afraid of seeing pity in a stranger’s eyes when they heard his story. Jake didn’t want anyone’s pity.

      He lifted himself off the sofa, where he and Brooke had been watching some show about an oversize red dog in between her frequent trips to the window to watch for “Fairy Poppins,” as she’d named Millie.

      Millie had made it to the front door, a large roller suitcase at her feet and a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

      She met his gaze and blew out a breath. “You thought I was going to ditch you guys.”

      “I’m glad you’re here,” he answered, not bothering to deny his doubts. Years of being a surgeon had taught him to keep his emotions off his face, and it was disconcerting that she could read him so easily. “Let me take your bag.”

      “I can manage.” Her eyes tracked to his right side for a moment.

      “I’m not a total invalid, Millie.” He reached out, plucked the bag from her shoulder and turned into the house.

      He was pretty sure he heard her mutter, “Invalid, no. Idiot, maybe,” but chose to ignore it.

      “Want to see your room?” Brooke scooted past him, tugging Millie behind her.

      He caught the faint scent of chocolate chip cookie, and his mind went immediately to his youngest brother. Logan had been baking since he was a kid. In fact, Jake and Brooke had made their way quickly through a batch of Logan’s oatmeal scotchies just last week.

      “Me and Daddy cleaned it,” Brooke continued.

      “Impressive,” Millie called over her shoulder.

      “You haven’t seen it yet,” he answered and took the handle of her wheeled suitcase in his uninjured hand. He was glad Millie and Brooke had already disappeared toward the back of the house, since his progress was slow and not so steady as he balanced her luggage on his good side.

      Eventually he made it to the back half of the house, where there was a bedroom, a bathroom and small sitting area. Sara had found this house for him to rent. He was grateful for her forethought in making sure it contained enough space for live-in help. Clearly she hadn’t underestimated his postsurgical needs the way he had.

      A bead of sweat trickled between his shoulder blades, another reminder of his weakness. Brooke popped out of the bedroom, beckoning him with a large swipe of her arm. “In here, Daddy.”

       Daddy.

      She used the word so freely, although he’d done nothing to earn it. Of course, he knew how little that meant in the grand scheme of things. If the name father was given based on merit, Jake’s dad would have had the title stripped from him decades before he’d died.

      He poked his head in the room but didn’t enter. Something about stepping into Millie Spencer’s temporary bedroom felt as if it might mean more than he wanted it to.

      “Does everything seem okay?” he asked, looking all around except where Millie was perched at the edge of the bed.

      She stood quickly, her attention focused on brushing the quilt smooth. Apparently he wasn’t the only one affected by the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

      “Perfect.” Her voice squeaked just a little, making him smile. She glanced at her watch. “Do you have plans for dinner?”

      “Pizza,” Brooke yelled. “Can Fairy Poppins eat with us, Daddy?”

      He saw Millie stifle a laugh. “You can call me Millie, Brooke.”

      “Millie Poppins?”

      “Just Millie.”

      “What do you like on your pizza, Ms. Poppins?” he asked when Brooke’s face fell.

      “Don’t you start now.” Millie made a face. “And I’m fine with anything.”

      “Bacon and pepperoni,” Brooke shouted.

      “Inside voice,” Millie told her.

      Brooke crossed her arms over her chest. He hadn’t known his daughter long, but already he could see a temper tantrum brewing. “She gets excited about pizza,” he explained to Millie.

      “Inside voice,” she repeated, and suddenly he realized that Fairy Poppins had more backbone than he’d expected.

      “We have pizza a lot,” Brooke told Millie. Jake noticed that her decibel level had lowered a few notches. One point, Millie Spencer.

      “Tomorrow we’ll go to the grocery store.” Millie ruffled Brooke’s hair then turned