Page 43 of The Wolf's Plus-Size Nanny

The front door creaks open, and I’m instantly on alert, setting Fiona’s bottle down and heading toward the foyer. Jack’s footsteps are heavier than usual, and I’ve had this uneasy feeling in my gut all day. I expected him back earlier, but something must’ve gone wrong because it’s nearly dark now, and the tension I’ve been carrying around hasn’t eased up one bit.

“Jack?” I call out, quickening my pace. “What happened?”

But as I round the corner, my breath catches in my throat. Jack isn’t alone. A woman clings to his arm, stumbling slightly as he helps her inside. Her clothes are torn and dirty, her face is marked with cuts and bruises, and she looks like she’s been through hell. But it’s the familiarity in her features that stops me cold.

“Sonya,” Jack’s eyes darting between me and the woman. “This is Casey… Fiona’s mother.”

I stare at them as my mind scrambles to catch up. Casey, the woman who left Fiona behind, who walked away without a second thought. And now she’s here, looking like she barely made it out of whatever mess she got herself into.

“Hey,” Casey murmurs. She tries to stand straighter, but her legs wobble, and Jack’s grip tightens around her waist.

Jack’s concern is written all over his face, but his gaze flits between Casey and me as if trying to gauge how to handle this. “She got caught up with some rogues,” he explains. “We found her tied up with some other women. She’s hurt, and she needs a place to stay while we figure things out.”

Casey lets out a pained sigh before she asks, “How’s Fiona? Is she okay?”

Jack’s expression hardens, and he shakes his head. “She’s fine, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see her right now, Casey. Not until we sort everything out. I don’t want to confuse her.”

Casey’s face falls, and for a second, I almost feel sorry for her. But I remember the way she left Fiona behind, the way Jack had to step up without any warning, and any sympathy I might’ve had evaporates. Still, I bite my tongue and swallow my feelings. Now’s not the time.

“I’ll get some towels and water,” I offer, heading to the bathroom to grab supplies. I can hear Casey mumbling something to Jack, but I can’t make out the words. My heart thuds as I fill a bowl with warm water.

When I return, Jack’s helping Casey onto the couch. He’s focused, trying to keep her comfortable, but there’s a stiffness in his movements that tells me he’s struggling to keep his emotions in check.

“Here,” I say, setting the bowl on the coffee table and handing Jack a washcloth. “Let’s clean up some of those cuts.”

“Thanks,” Casey murmurs, glancing at me for just a second. “I’m sorry to show up like this. I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

Jack dabs at a cut on her cheek. “You’re lucky we found you when we did. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

As Jack tends to her, I stand back, folding my arms tightly across my chest. I watch them closely, trying to read between the lines of their interactions. There’s history here, a past that I can’t ignore, and it’s making my stomach churn. Casey leans into Jack’s touch, brushing his arm with her fingers, and I catch the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. A smile that sends a sharp pang of jealousy through me.

“I was just trying to enjoy some freedom,” Casey explains. Her voice is small, almost childlike. “But things got out of hand, and I ended up with the wrong crowd. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Jack finishes cleaning the cut and sits back. “You walked away, Casey.”

Casey’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and she nods, her shoulders slumping. “I know. I’m sorry. I regret it every day. I was stupid, and I thought I needed to find myself, but all I found was a lot of bad decisions.”

The room falls silent. I want to say something, to tell her that she doesn’t get to play the victim, but Jack’s expression stops me. He’s not angry with her, not entirely. He’s hurt, and he’s caught between his past with Casey and his present with Fiona. And, maybe, with me.

“Get some rest,” Jack finally says, standing up and gesturing toward the guest room, the room I used to sleep in before I started sharing a bed with Jack. “We’ll figure out what to do next in the morning.”

Casey nods, and as Jack helps her to her feet, I can’t help but feel a twist of something ugly and raw in my chest. Watching them like this, the way Jack’s trying to be the bigger person, the way Casey latches onto his kindness—it’s stirring up emotions I don’t like one bit.

I hover in the doorway as Jack leads Casey to the guest room. Fiona’s soft babbling from her crib in Jack’s room echoes down the hall, a reminder of why Casey’s presence here feels like a disruption. Jack’s shoulders are tense, his movements careful as he helps her settle onto the bed, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m intruding on a moment that’s not meant for me.

“Thanks, Jack,” Casey says, her voice soft as she sinks into the pillows. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just… I needed help.”

Jack stands at the edge of the bed with his hands stuffed into his pockets, as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. “We’ll figure it out,” he replies. “For now, just rest.”

He turns to leave, and his eyes briefly meet mine. There’s something there—an apology, maybe—but it’s gone as quickly as it came. He brushes past me, and I follow him out, closing the door gently behind us.

“Thanks for helping,” he murmurs, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up in every direction. “I know this is… a lot.”

I nod, swallowing back the emotions that threaten to spill over. “She seems pretty shaken up,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral, but it’s hard when my insides feel like they’re twisting into knots. “I get why you’re doing this.”

Jack sighs, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes briefly. He seems to be searching for the right words. “She’s Fiona’s mother,” he says. His voice is tinged with something I can’t quite place. Guilt, maybe. Or regret. “I can’t just turn her away, no matter how much I want to.”

I nod, understanding but not really wanting to. “You’re doing the right thing, Jack,” I tell him. “Fiona deserves to know her mother, even if it’s complicated.”

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