13. Sloane
THIRTEEN
Sloane
I kneel beside Lennon on the walkway leading to Seabreeze, tucking in the back of his sea turtle t-shirt where it bunched up in the car.
"This is going to be such an adventure, Bud. I can't wait to hear all about your day when I pick you up later."
He gives me a faint smile but stays quiet, playing with the necklace around his neck. I want to pull him into a hug, but instead I rest my hands on his shoulders, keeping things easy, giving him room.
The glass entrance doors catch the midday sun, flashing our reflections back at us. Lennon’s eyes flick from the building to me, wide and searching.
"It's okay to be nervous," I tell him as we step inside. "First days always feel a little scary."
He twists the hem of his shorts, knuckles whitening. A girl bounces past with her father, her backpack thumping against her shoulders, their voices rising and falling like the surf outside.
"Dr. Serrano said they're studying tide pools today," I add, aiming for light and steady. "Remember how you told me sharks can get stuck in them when the tide goes out?"
His eyes focus on mine for a brief moment before sliding away. Progress. Two days ago, he wouldn't have made eye contact at all.
"You have a snack in your backpack, and a water bottle on the side. The blue one with the stars."
I stand up, offering my hand. He doesn't take it, but he stays close as we walk toward the entrance. The building smells of sea life and salt air when the doors slide open.
Lennon pauses at the threshold, his small shoulders rising with a deep breath. He glances back at me once, his expression unreadable but somehow determined. Then he takes a step forward, then another, without clinging to my leg or asking me to come with him.
A woman in a linen dress approaches him, her badge swinging gently from a lanyard. She smiles at me before crouching to speak to Lennon. “Hi. You must be Lennon. I’m Dr. Maya. We’re so glad you’re here today.”
He presses his lips together but nods, sliding his hands into his pockets. A little girl joins them and tells Lennon she wants to show him the shark's teeth. That gets his attention, and he's off.
The woman stands and walks the few steps to me with her hand extended. "Maya Serrano."
I extend mine. “Sloane Brennan. We spoke yesterday. I'm Lennon's nanny and will be picking him up this afternoon.”
“Wonderful.” Her handshake is warm, steady. “He’ll be in great hands. We’re starting with tide pools this morning.”
"How neat. He seems to love sifting and organizing."
She tips her head toward a table where two boys are already bent over a tray of shells and small plastic creatures. “Why don’t you join them?”
"Since he seems content, it might be best for me to slip out. Thank you, though. I might take you up on that after things settle a bit."
Something tight in my chest loosens, and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
My heart squeezes with a strange mix of pride and protectiveness. I know this feeling, it's the same one I had with my therapy kids in Charleston. But somehow, now it's deeper and more personal.
It's dangerous territory for a temporary nanny.
After dropping off the paperwork at the intake office, I walk back to the dark gray SUV, the key fob heavy in my hand.
Instead of turning right toward the estate, I signal left. For the first time in five days, I'm going to my own apartment.
I need space to breathe, to remember this is just a job, not my life.
My apartment door sticks, resisting my key. I lean in with my shoulder, and it finally gives way with a groan. The rush of hot, stale air hits me first, followed by a faint sour smell that makes my nose wrinkle.
Home sweet temporary home.
The blinds are drawn exactly as I left them days ago, casting thin stripes of light across the living room floor. Dust particles dance in the sunbeams. Not even three full days away, and it already feels like a forgotten space.
"Well, this is depressing," I mutter to myself, dropping my purse on the counter.
I head straight to the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator door. The carton of milk I'd bought during my first grocery run sits half-full, now a day past it's sell-by date. I pour it down the drain, watching the thick white liquid disappear.
"Gross."
Three containers of yogurt join the milk, along with a wilted bag of spinach and some suspicious-looking strawberries. The trash can fills quickly as I purge evidence of my optimistic first shopping trip.
A stack of mail sits untouched on the counter, most of it addressed to "Current Resident." I flip through the envelopes. There are credit card offers, coupons for local businesses, and a welcome packet from the property management company. Nothing that can't wait.
My phone buzzes. A text from Pope.
Lennon okay at Seabreeze?
I type back.
Settled in fine. Shark teeth were the winning ticket.
Three dots appear, disappear, then reappear.
Good. Thanks.
That's it. All business, as it should be.
I strip off my clothes as I walk to the bathroom, leaving them in a trail behind me. The shower takes forever to heat up, but when it finally does, I stand under the spray until my skin turns pink. The hot water washes away the salt and sand that somehow get everywhere when you live on the beach.
I lather on the shampoo, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent. I make a mental note to bring the bottle with me back to Pope's. The shampoo provided is nice, but I like my scent.
My mind drifts to Lennon's careful steps into Seabreeze, how he didn't look back after the shark teeth girl appeared. A warmth runs through me.
He's not your kid, I remind myself as I rinse out the soap from my hair.
I towel off and pull on a simple black one-piece swimsuit that I'd packed in my overnight bag. Grabbing a dog-eared paperback thriller and my phone, I head down to the complex's pool.
The Florida sun beats down mercilessly. The pool area is deserted, which is nice. Everyone with sense is either at work or inside with air conditioning. Perfect.
I settle into a lounge chair, adjusting the back to a half-recline. The water gleams turquoise, unnaturally bright against the concrete surround. It's peaceful but eerily quiet compared to the constant rhythm of waves at Pope's beach house.
Everything about this place feels like a life interrupted, a bookmark stuck between chapters. Meanwhile, I've been living in someone else's story for days.
My phone buzzes against my stomach. Maris's name lights up the screen.
I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. "Girl, have I got some juice for you."
"Hello to you, too." Maris's laugh ripples through the speaker. "What's this news? Give it to me."
"Pope isn't Lennon's father. He's his half-brother." I shift on the lounge chair, the vinyl sticking to my damp skin. The heat here is more oppressive than at Pope's beachfront property, the chlorine scent sharp in my nostrils compared to the salt air I've grown used to.
"Wait, what?" Maris's voice rises an octave. "Are you serious right now? How did you miss this?"
"I guess my mind just came up with the story. Well, that's not entirely true. I'm almost positive the posting for the job said single dad, but I guess that could be ambiguous. Anyway, he told me last night, and my jaw almost hit the concrete."
"This is wild. So, what's the deal?"
"I know, right?" I lower my voice as a couple emerges from the neighboring unit, their conversation drifting across the pool deck.
"I don't know much more than that. Apparently, they share a father, and the father isn't stellar, so he's with Pope temporarily until the mom's cousin, Camila, I told you about her, right? "
"Yes, Camila!"
"Right. Camila plans to adopt him, but I think the timing didn't work. Hence, the nine weeks."
"Wow. This all just got a whole lot more interesting. He's gone from a player jerk to a white knight. Who does that?"
I trace a water droplet sliding down my water bottle. "Someone with a strong sense of responsibility, I guess. It actually makes more sense now why he seems so uncertain around Lennon."
A couple settles into chairs at the far end of the pool, their voices a distant hum beneath the sound of splashing water.
"He could've just hired someone and stayed uninvolved," I continue. "But he's trying. This morning, before he left for a meeting at the hospital, he sat through an episode of that cartoon Lennon likes, asking questions about the characters."
"Mmm-hmm." I can practically see Maris's knowing smile. "You realize you sound a little smitten, right?"
Heat crawls up my neck that has nothing to do with the Florida sun. "I am not smitten. I'm just observing the situation professionally. This is what I went to grad school for, after all."
"Professional observation includes noticing how he watches cartoons?"
"It's relevant to Lennon's adjustment." My protest sounds weak even to my own ears.
"If you say so, honey."
"I'm serious, Mar. I'm focused on the kid, not his ridiculously attractive guardian who apparently has a hidden heart of gold." I close my eyes, mentally kicking myself.
"Uh-huh. Okay."
"That came out wrong."
"Did it, though?" Maris laughs. "Just be careful, Sloane. I know that look in your voice."
"That's not a thing."
But I can't ignore the flutter in my chest when I think about Pope stepping up for Lennon when he needed someone. The hard edges I first saw in him soften under this new light, making him even more dangerous to my resolve.
"I should go," I say, checking the time. "I need to pick up Lennon soon."
"Call me later with more not-smitten observations."
“LYLAS.”
I hang up and stare at the rippling water, unsettled by how quickly my perspective has shifted, and how much harder it will be to keep my distance.
I didn't even tell her he will be working from home for the next couple of weeks.
Shit. I'm in trouble.