Page 65 of Bad Wolf's Nanny
Dane bent and scooped him up gently.
Lola glanced back briefly, eyes softening when they landed on Sam, but her expression shuttered the moment she looked at Dane.
“I left a note in the side pocket,” she said, “feeding times, nap log, bath preferences. He’s been drooling more than usual, so he might be teething.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
Another silence stretched. She didn’t break it.
Dane shifted Sam’s weight in his arms, then added, a little too awkwardly, “You know…the club’s notjustfor jokes. It might do you good to be around people who actually like you.”
Her mouth twitched. Not a smile. Something sharper.
“I’m quite well-liked, actually. Ethel says I’m very efficient.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Well, lucky for me, I’m not in the market for validation from a bunch of testosterone-fueled warriors who think ‘likability’ is measured by who can throw the most punches before breakfast.”
There it was.
The full Lola.
Haughty, biting, and practically a walking thesaurus.
But under all that crisp sarcasm was something brittle. Something that cracked if he looked at her for too long.
He wanted to say something. Apologize. Explain. Anything.
But his throat closed around the words.
So he just nodded.
“Right. I’ll bring him back in the morning.”
“Lovely.”
She moved toward the kitchen again, her back to him.
And Dane walked out the door, heart heavier than when he’d arrived.
By the time they got home, Sam was drooling on his sleeve and gurgling to himself, completely unfazed by the emotional wreckage his father was carrying like an anvil.
Dane let out a breath and shifted the baby’s weight in his arms. The bag slid off his shoulder and hit the floor with a muted thud as he turned on the lights. The apartment was quiet, clean, functional, and missing something he didn’t know how to name until recently.
It used to be enough. Now it just felt…temporary.
Like he was borrowing someone else’s life.
“Alright, kiddo,” Dane muttered, walking Sam over to the changing table tucked against the far wall, “let’s get you out of that carrier before you chew a hole in it.”
Sam squeaked, legs kicking as Dane gently unbuckled him. The baby latched onto his thumb immediately, chewing with impressive commitment.
“That’s flattering. Really. Nothing says ‘bonding’ like being used as a teething ring.”
He cleaned Sam up, changed him into soft cotton pajamas with little bears on them, and carried him over to the battered recliner near the living room window. Sam’s tiny hands curled into his shirt like he always did, now, like Dane was his favorite pillow and he had no intention of letting go.
Dane sat, letting the chair rock gently beneath them. Sam settled against his chest with a sigh, his whole body warm and heavy with trust.
