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I stared up at Brock. No matter how much he resented our situation, he was determined to protect me. I was sure John had told him about my past misdeeds. Yet, not once had Brock ever brought it up. If only he knew how much more it made me love him. Though his kindness shoved the knife farther into my chest. If I could set us both free, I would.
Brock squeezed my hand, and we walked on to meet our fate.
As soon as we entered the living room, every head turned our way. Instinctively, I stood tall and proud. It was one of the only ways left for me to stand up to John. I wondered if Brock knew what I was doing as he inched closer to me, almost as if giving me some support. I wasn’t going to read too much into it—I was trying not to get my hopes up. I was prepared to go it alone. Anything for my baby.
Sheridan was all smiles as she walked toward us with arms opened wide. “Here they are.”
Yes, here we were. I plastered on my fake smile. Sheridan placed the back of her hand on my forehead as if I were a child. “You feeling okay, honey? You look a little peaky.” Was she just now noticing?
“I’m great.” I felt bad lying, but as always, I could feel John’s scrutinizing gaze.
“I can make you some soup,” she offered, obviously not buying the act.
Soup sounded better than pot roast, but it probably didn’t matter what I ate—it would come up later. And I needed to keep my pregnancy under the radar. “That’s sweet of you, but I think I just got a little warm.”
“John, turn up the air conditioner,” Sheridan fretted. “You should have said something, honey.” She patted my cheek. “This is your home now too.”
Internally, I winced. She had no idea how her words killed me. How I had longed for these moments. Now here they were, under false pretenses. “Thank you,” I choked out.
Sheridan seemed tickled by my show of emotion. “My boys have made me so happy, finally giving me daughters.” The lovely woman kept up the emotional punches.
“We should probably proceed with the interview,” Brock not so subtly suggested.
“Of course.” Sheridan turned back toward the reporter, Allison Mitchell. She had flawless cocoa skin and the richest brown eyes that seemed to read you like a book. Which was probably why she did her job so well. Like right now, I swear she was looking at me like she knew there was more to the story. I stood my ground and didn’t flinch. I had stories in my past that would make people’s hair stand on end. I wasn’t proud of them, but I wasn’t ashamed of them either. The fact that I’d survived them made me who I was. A fighter. I wore those experiences as a badge of honor. However, they could interfere with my mission. Children to Love was my life’s work, and this baby would be my life—and no one was going to take either one away from me.
Allison approached us, dressed in a smart cream pantsuit. She held out her hand to me first. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Holland.”
Ugh. Another punch. “Please, call me Dani.”
“Dani it is.” She turned toward Brock and offered her hand to him. “I served in Desert Storm. It’s an honor, sir.” She was obviously in awe of him.
Brock didn’t like being thought of as a hero. He thought of himself as lucky. He’d watched two of his friends die while he’d lived. “The honor is ours,” he graciously replied.
I saw John in the background, his eyes alight with how Allison and Brock’s interaction went. Brock had nailed his response. It was sad how loyal his sons were to him. I’d once asked Brock why. He’d said there had never been a more dedicated parent than their father. No matter his busy schedule, he had attended every sport and school event for his sons. He was their greatest champion. To me, John was his own biggest advocate. Brock had also mentioned that when his father spoke or entered a room, people paid attention and wanted to act. It’s the kind of men Brock and Brant wanted to be. I prayed they would use their powers for good and not evil, the way John had. Though, in John’s story, he saw himself as the hero. I think the idea that he was the villain was laughable to him.
After the introductions, Brock led us to the sacrificial couch where Brant and Jill sat all cozy at one end, as they were part of the interview as well. Brant’s campaign manager loved the photo ops and free publicity. Brock’s hero status was pure gold. Brant was way ahead in the polls against the incumbent. It was still early, and a challenger had plenty of time to join the race since the primaries weren’t until next June, but John thought it was the perfect time to strike. He hadn’t been wrong. Honestly, with the way Brant was performing, I was sure it was discouraging to any other potential candidates.
