Page 6 of Nicky

“You’d better,” she shot back, her tone teasing now. “Because I refuse to let my big brother become some reclusive old man who talks to his plants.”

“I don’t evenownplants, Leah.”

“Exactly my point! Not even a sad little cactus. That’s how far gone you are.”

A laugh escaped me despite myself. “Goodbye, Leah.”

“Love you!” she called, hanging up before I could respond.

I set my phone on the counter and exhaled deeply, staring at the empty space around me. She was right about one thing—Josh had been a mistake. But not because of his age or my Tesla-loving replacement. Josh had never really understood me. He liked calling me Daddy in bed when he was in the mood for something different, but he’d always balked at the idea of it being anything more than a word.

That was the problem. Most guys didn’t get it. They liked the idea of a Daddy as some fleeting bedroom fantasy, not as a constant. They didn’t see it the way I did—as a commitment to care, to protect, to nurture. And they certainly didn’t want to be a boy, not in the way I needed.

I grabbed a glass of water, letting the coolness of the glass anchor me. The thought of dating again churned in my stomach like bad cafeteria coffee. Leah might mean well with her persistent lectures, but she had no idea how complicated it really was. It wasn’t about getting over Josh—though, God knew, that was a wound I still poked at daily like a sore tooth. It wasabout finding someone who could understand me, really see me, without flinching at the parts of myself I couldn’t turn off.

Dating conventionally? A disaster waiting to happen. I’d been down that road before—awkward conversations, forced smiles, and the slow, sinking realization that I’d have to explain my kink. Because “Daddy” wasn’t just a word I liked to hear in bed; it was the way I loved. The way I cared. And nothing killed the mood faster than seeing someone’s interest curdle into discomfort, or worse, disdain.

So, then, the apps. God help me, the apps. Swiping through profiles, supposedly “specialized” spaces, wading through messages from men who thought “Daddy” was just shorthand for “ATM.” The ones who couldn’t see past the surface, who wanted the thrill without the substance. Every time I logged in, I told myself it was worth the effort, worth the rejection, for the slim chance of finding someone who understood. But most nights, I just logged out feeling more alone.

Because for me, it wasn’t a role I turned on and off. I didn’t just want to be called Daddy—I wanted tobeone. To care, guide, protect. To be the kind of partner who made someone feel like the world was theirs because I was there to catch them if they ever stumbled. But finding someone who understood that? Who wanted that too? Damn near impossible.

I rubbed my temples, trying to push away the ache behind my eyes. Maybe I should just stop trying. Give up on dating, on relationships, on the dream of having a boy to spoil. Except...

Nicholas.

His face flashed in my mind, sharp and clear as if he were standing right in front of me. The slope of his jaw, the stubborn set of his mouth. The sharp edge of his voice earlier when he advocated for Beverly. The fire in his eyes when he thought I was brushing him off. The quiet competence under all that grumpiness. He cared so deeply for that woman, and he didn’tcare if it made him seem abrasive. How many CNAs took the time to know their patients that well? To fight for them that hard? His passion for his work had caught me off guard. His competence had impressed me even more.

Had he ever considered nursing? Maybe even med school? He had the sharp instincts for it, the kind of focus that could make him exceptional. And yet, beneath that fiery exterior, I saw something else. A softness. The way his shoulders eased just slightly when Beverly smiled at him. The way his voice gentled when he explained her needs.

I shook my head, but the image refused to leave. I didn’t even know him, not really. But the thought of him—Nicky, as I was calling him right now in my head— curled up in my lap, letting me take care of him, trusting me. I imagined the weight of him leaning into me. The softness behind that tough exterior. The way his frown might melt into something warmer if he ever let his guard down. Those thoughts were intoxicating. Dangerous.

A knot tightened in my chest, half hope, half frustration. Attraction wasn’t enough. Not here. Not now. Introducing that side of me to someone I worked with? It was reckless at best, career-ending at worst.

But the thought of a life without that connection, without the joy of spoiling someone, of being the steady presence they relied on—it left an ache in my chest I couldn’t ignore.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face. Nicky wasn’t just risky; he was out of reach. But knowing that didn’t stop me from picturing him—grumpy, gorgeous, and utterly unaware of just how badly he’d already gotten under my skin.

CHAPTER 5

Nicky

I navigated the familiar roads toward work, my phone balanced in the cradle on speaker mode. Aiden’s call had come through and I’d answered without hesitation, eager for a distraction from the gray December morning.

The streets of Juniper Hollow had been dusted with snow overnight, the kind that turned everything soft and magical. Wreaths hung from the lampposts, their ribbons fluttering in the faint breeze, and storefronts glowed with string lights. Even the air smelled like pine and woodsmoke.

“You better not be skipping meals,” I said, cutting straight to the point.

“Hello to you too,” Aiden replied, his tone dry but amused. “And for your information, I’m not.”

“Right. Let me guess. Ramen and whatever mystery meat they serve at the dining hall?”

There was a beat of silence, followed by the sound of computer keys clattering—probably his laptop. “My roommate cooks, actually. Real food. Better than your over-salted spaghetti, for sure.”

“Over-salted?” I scoffed, the corner of my mouth twitching upward. “That spaghetti got you through middle and high school.”

“Barely,” he shot back, but I could hear the grin in his voice.

“Watch it,” I warned, though a smile tugged at my lips.

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