Page 13 of The Wolf's Plus-Size Nanny

“Hey, you’re not terrible at this,” Sonya remarks one afternoon as I manage to burp Fiona without any major incidents. Her tone is teasing, but there’s a hint of genuine praise in there, too.

“High praise,” I shoot back, smirking. “I’m aiming for ‘not terrible’ to be my new life motto.”

Sonya just rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips. She’s been like that all week—quick with a quip, but somehow softer around the edges than I expected. And as much as we clash, I’m starting to find comfort in our back-and-forth. Most of the women I’ve known would be tripping over themselves to agree with me or laugh at my jokes. But Sonya? She’s not afraid to call me out, and weirdly, I think that’s part of what draws me to her.

It doesn’t hurt that she’s easy on the eyes, either. I catch myself glancing at her more often than I should—at the way her curves fill out her jeans or the way her bright red hair always seems to fall just right, even when she’s pulling it back in a messy bun. There’s a confidence in the way she carries herself, an unspoken challenge that makes me want to push back just to see what she’ll do. And lately, I can’t stop thinking about how goodshe looks doing all of this—balancing Fiona on one hip, scolding me over a misstep, all while looking like she’s barely breaking a sweat.

But something’s shifted in the past couple of days. Sonya’s usual spark has dimmed. She’s quieter, more subdued, and it’s throwing me off. I catch her staring off into space more than once, her brow furrowed like she’s carrying some invisible weight. When I ask if everything’s okay, she brushes it off with a half-hearted smile, but I know better. She’s tired—exhausted, even—and it’s not just from watching Fiona.

One morning, I wake up early to the sound of Sonya moving around in the kitchen. I peek in to find her leaning against the counter. Her eyes are barely open as she stirs her coffee with the kind of sluggishness that comes from not getting enough sleep. It’s not even nine yet, and she looks like she’s been up for hours.

“Late night?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.

Sonya startles, nearly spilling her coffee. “Yeah, you know how it is,” she says, her voice scratchy with fatigue. “Got a shift at the coffee shop before I come back here. Then I’ve got the diner later.”

I frown, watching as she sips her coffee like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. “You’re still working those other jobs?”

Sonya shrugs, but the movement looks more like a slump of defeat. “Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

“You know you don’t have to work yourself into the ground, right? If this is too much—”

“I’m fine, Jack,” she cuts in, her tone sharper than usual. She sets her coffee cup down with a little more force thannecessary, the clatter echoing in the quiet kitchen. “I’ve got it handled.”

But it’s obvious she doesn’t, not really. I watch her for a moment, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the way her shoulders sag as if the weight of her responsibilities is physically pressing down on her. It’s not just exhaustion. It’s something deeper, something that she’s trying hard to hide.

“Okay,” I say finally, letting it drop for now. But the concern lingers, gnawing at me as I go through the motions of the day. Fiona keeps me busy, but my thoughts keep drifting back to Sonya, to how she seems to be unraveling at the edges. I want to ask her more, but every time I try, she deflects with a joke or a quick change of subject.

Later that day, when Sonya heads out for her shift at the diner, I make my way over to Reiner’s place. He’s elbow-deep in an engine, tinkering with that same single-minded focus he’s had since we were kids. I lean against the wall, waiting until he notices me. When he finally looks up, wiping his hands on a rag, he gives me that familiar, scrutinizing look.

“You’ve got that look,” Reiner says, tossing the rag aside. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I lie, though it’s half-hearted. “Just needed to get out for a bit. Thought I’d see what you were up to.”

Reiner raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And?”

I exhale, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s about Sonya. She’s… I don’t know. She’s been off lately. Tired, quiet. It’s not like her.”

Reiner nods slowly. “She’s been burning the candle at both ends, from what Jane says. Working three jobs just to keepher head above water. Rent, bills, all of it piling up. She doesn’t want to rely on anyone. Doesn’t want to move in with us or ask for help.”

I frown, feeling a stab of guilt. “She didn’t say anything about that. I knew she was busy, but…”

“She won’t,” Reiner declares with a shrug. “That’s Sonya for you. She’s too proud to ask, even when she’s drowning.”

I take a moment to absorb that, thinking back on all the times I’ve seen her brush off my questions with a smile or a joke. The way she’s always on the move, never still for long, like she’s trying to outrun something. “I just… I don’t want her to burn out. She’s been doing so much for Fiona, for me, and I haven’t exactly made it easy.”

Reiner gives me a pointed look. “You think?”

I roll my eyes, but the jab lands. Reiner’s right—I’ve leaned on Sonya more than I probably should, taking her help for granted because she’s been so damn good at picking up the slack. And now, realizing how much she’s struggling behind the scenes, I feel like an idiot for not noticing sooner.

“What do I do?” I ask, feeling more lost than I’d like to admit. “I mean, how do I help without making it worse?”

Reiner shrugs, wiping a smear of oil off his cheek. “Talk to her. Be straight. She’s tough, but she’s not invincible. Just let her know she doesn’t have to carry it all by herself.”

I nod, my mind already racing with a dozen different ways to bring it up. Sonya isn’t the type to want pity, and the last thing I want is to make her feel cornered or weak. But I can’t just stand by and watch her wear herself down, either.

Reiner’s voice cuts into my thoughts, grounding me back to the moment. “Strange to see you so invested. She must really be getting under your skin, huh?”

I shoot him a glare. There was a time when a comment like that would have sparked a round of teasing, but I can tell by the glint in his eyes that he isn’t looking to start anything. He’s genuinely curious.

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