Page 25 of The Wolf's Plus-Size Nanny

Jack steps inside, and his gaze lands on me before he quickly looks away. He mutters a greeting with a strained voice and heads straight for the sink to wash his hands. I force myself to keep scrubbing, pretending I’m too busy to care that he’s here, but my hands are shaking, and I’m scrubbing the same spot over and over again, too caught up in my own head to notice.

Fiona lets out a delighted squeal, and Jack’s face softens as he turns to her with a smile breaking through the tension that hangs between us. “Hey, FiFi,” he says, his tone brightening as he crouches down to her level. She giggles, reaching for him, and for a moment, it’s like nothing’s changed. He scoops her up, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek, and my chest tightens with the same conflicting emotions that have been plaguing me since that damn kiss.

He glances over at me, catching me watching, and the easy smile slips from his face. “I’ll take her,” he says, his voice clipped, and it’s not a question. I nod, stepping aside as he carries Fiona out of the kitchen.

I sink into one of the kitchen chairs, pressing my palms to my eyes and letting out a frustrated sigh. This isn’t sustainable. I can’t keep tiptoeing around Jack like this, can’t keep pretending that nothing’s wrong when every glance, every awkward silence, is a reminder of what we’re not talking about. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know where to start.

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear Jack come back in until he’s standing right in front of me. “Sonya, can we talk?”

I look up, meeting his gaze for the first time in what feels like days. There’s something in his expression that I can’t quite read—regret, maybe, or hope. Maybe both. “About what?”

He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “About… everything. About what happened. I—” He breaks off, his jawclenching like he’s struggling to find the right words. “I don’t want things to be like this.”

“Like what?” I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest. “Awkward? Because that’s your fault, Jack. You’re the one who pulled back.”

His eyes flash with something—guilt, anger, I’m not sure—and he takes a step closer. “I know. I know, okay? I messed up. I just… I don’t want to make things worse. For you. For Fiona.”

“Right,” I say, my voice flat. “Because God forbid you complicate things.”

“Sonya,” he breathes, his shoulders slumping. “I’m trying. I’m trying to do the right thing here, but I don’t know how to fix this.”

I study him, taking in the tension in his frame, the way he’s gripping the back of the chair like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. I want to stay mad. I want to keep that wall up because it’s easier than admitting that I’m scared, too—that I’m scared of what happens if we cross that line and everything falls apart.

But the truth is, I miss him. I miss the way things used to be, the easy banter, how we fit together in this messy, imperfect way. And maybe I even miss the way he kissed me, like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“Jack,” I start, my voice softening despite myself, “I don’t need you to fix anything. I just… I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?”

He meets my gaze, and his expression is a mix of regret and something else I can’t quite name. It’s like he’s teetering on the edge of an admission he’s not ready to make, and I don’tknow whether I want to push him over that ledge or pull him back. He nods, but the movement is stiff, hesitant. “I’ll try.”

But there’s something brittle in his voice that sets me on edge. “Trying isn’t good enough,” I reply, the frustration bubbling up before I can tamp it down. “I’ve been trying to pretend everything’s fine, but it’s not. We’re walking around this house like we’re strangers, and I can’t stand it. So either say what you need to say, or stop pretending like you want to fix this.”

He flinches like I’ve slapped him, but I’m too far gone to care. Weeks of pent-up tension, confusion, and hurt are all crashing to the surface, and I’m done holding it in.

Jack opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but then he snaps it shut, his jaw clenching as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to do the right thing, Sonya. I’m trying to keep things from getting more messed up than they already are.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” I snap, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “What is the ‘right thing,’ Jack? Because all I see is you pushing me away every time we get close, and I’m tired of guessing what the hell is going through your head.”

He takes a step back and narrows his eyes. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t know how badly I’ve screwed this up? I’m trying to protect you—from me, from all of this. I don’t want to be the guy who messes up your life because he can’t keep his shit together.”

“Maybe I don’t need protecting!” My voice rises, echoing off the walls of the quiet house, and Fiona stirs in her playpen, her little brows furrowing in her sleep. I immediately lower my voice, but the anger is still there, simmering just below thesurface. “Maybe I need you to stop treating me like I’m some delicate thing that’s going to break the moment things get hard.”

Jack’s expression hardens, and for a second, I see a flash of something darker in his eyes—fear, maybe, or anger. “I can’t give you what you need, Sonya. I’m not that guy.”

“Who said I needed anything from you?” The words come out sharper than I wanted, but I don’t pull back. “You keep acting like you’re doing me a favor by keeping your distance, but all you’re doing is making things worse.”

He throws his hands up, pacing the room like a caged animal. “What do you want from me, Sonya? Huh? You want me to admit that I’m into you? That I think about kissing you every damn time you walk into a room? Fine. You win. There, I said it. But that doesn’t change anything.”

My heart pounds in my chest as his words hit me like a sledgehammer. I’ve wanted to hear him say it, to admit that there’s something between us, but now that he has, it doesn’t feel the way I thought it would. It feels messy and complicated, like a wound that’s been ripped open with no way to close it.

“You can’t just say that and expect it to fix everything. You don’t get to play with my feelings like this, Jack.”

“I’m not playing,” he shouts, his voice cracking. “You think I want to feel this way? You think I like the idea of messing up the one good thing I’ve got going?”

“Then stop!” I fire back, the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. “Stop acting like you’re some martyr and just be honest with me! Be honest with yourself!”

We stand there, both of us breathing hard, the tension so thick it’s choking. Neither of us says anything for a long moment, and I don’t know whether I want to scream or cry or both. AllI know is that I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep running in circles, fighting the same battle over and over with no end in sight.

The sound of a car pulling up outside breaks the silence, and I feel a rush of relief so intense it nearly knocks me off my feet. Jane and Piper are here, and for once, their timing is perfect.

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