5. ZARA
ZARA
Who Does He Think He Is?
The guest bedroom Mrs. Henriksen has shown me is lovely—high thread count sheets, blackout curtains, the kind of mattress that probably costs more than my last car—but my brain refuses to shut off.
Jaxon Halberg. Jax from the bar. The Metro Raptors' new head coach.
My boss.
The man whose hands I can still feel on my hips if I think about it for more than three seconds.
The man who was very clearly not thrilled to see me here—and made sure I knew it.
I press my palms against my eyes and groan into the darkness. This is fine. Totally fine.
Plenty of people sleep with strangers who then turn out to be their employers. Happens all the time. Completely normal.
God, I am such an idiot.
But I need this job. More importantly, Danny needs it. So there’s nothing to do but suck it up and put on my big-girl pants.
By the time Lily bounds into the kitchen at seven-thirty, I’ve already made pancakes, prepped her school lunch, and consumed enough coffee to power a small city.
The little girl's face lights up when she sees the stack of chocolate chip pancakes arranged into a smiley face.
"You made me happy breakfast!" She scrambles onto her chair, still in her dragon pajamas.
"I did. But we have to eat fast, okay? We need to leave in forty-five minutes.”
"Daddy already left." Lily stabs a pancake with her fork. "He leaves super early on practice days."
"I know." I keep my voice light, casual. Like I haven't spent half the night replaying that tense moment in the kitchen when Jaxon and I stood three feet apart, both of us clearly remembering things neither of us could acknowledge. "That's why I'm here, remember? To help out."
"I'm glad you're here." Lily grins at me with chocolate smeared on her chin. "You're way more fun than Mrs. Henriksen. She doesn't make happy pancakes."
Something warm unfurls in my chest. Kids. They have this way of cutting through all the complicated adult nonsense and making everything simple again.
"Well, Mrs. Henriksen has other talents. She keeps this place running like a well-oiled machine."
"What's a well-oiled machine?"
"Something that works really smoothly."
"Like Daddy's team?"
I pause with my coffee mug halfway to my lips. "I don't know much about hockey, actually."
Lily's eyes go wide. "You don't know about hockey?"
"Nope."
"But it's the best sport ever!" She launches into an explanation that involves a lot of hand gestures and sound effects, and I find myself smiling despite the anxious knot that has taken up permanent residence in my stomach.
After I get Lily ready—pigtails secured, backpack checked for homework—we head out together, and I drop her off at school before making my way back to the apartment, trying to figure out what exactly my job looks like here.
Mrs. Henriksen handles the cleaning and most of the cooking, and she’ll still support with childcare as needed. My contract specifies childcare, school pickup, activity coordination, and “household management as needed.”
Whatever that means in a household run by a single dad who also happens to coach professional hockey.
I am reorganizing Lily's art supplies when my phone buzzes. Danny's face pops up on the screen.
"Tell me everything," he says the second I answer. "You've been there since yesterday and I've only gotten like three texts."
"I've been busy." I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder, sorting crayons by color. "The job is... intense."
"Intense how? Rich people intense or actually difficult intense?"
Both. Neither. I don't know how to explain that the real intensity has nothing to do with the job itself.
"The little girl is great," I say instead. "Lily. She's six, really smart, obsessed with dragons and hockey."
"And the dad? You said he’s a famous hockey coach guy?"
My hand tightens around a purple crayon. "He's fine. Professional. We haven't talked much. I only saw him last night."
I leave out the part where we definitely did more than just talk two nights ago. My stomach clenches.
Danny and I don't keep secrets from each other—we've been through too much for that. But how am I supposed to tell my baby brother that I slept with my boss before he became my boss?
"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" Danny's voice softens. "I know you wanted this fresh start, Z. But if it's not working out—"
"It's working out." I make myself smile, hoping he can hear it. "I promise. This is exactly what I need."
After we hang up, I finish organizing and then tackle the kitchen. Meal planning for the week. A grocery list that accounts for Lily's preferences and what I assume are Jaxon's nutritional needs as a former athlete.
I am elbow-deep in recipe research when the front door opens.
My whole body goes rigid.
Footsteps in the hallway. Heavy. Confident. The kind of walk that belongs to someone who owns every room he enters.
Jaxon appears in the kitchen doorway.
He looks different from last night—sharper somehow.
A team polo stretches across his shoulders, his light brown hair still damp from what I assume is a post-practice shower. That jaw could cut glass. Those shoulders could block a doorway—both of which I know from personal experience.
Stop it, I tell myself firmly. Professional. Be professional.
"Hey," he says.
“Hi.” I set down my phone. “Lily got to school fine. I packed her lunch and made sure she has her permission slip for the field trip next week.”
We stand there. Two people who were practically naked together two days ago, now navigating the world’s most awkward employer-employee dynamic.
“Good.” Jaxon runs a hand through his hair. “Did you speak to her tutor about the adjustment plan?”
I can tell he expects a yes. Something quick so he can move on.
But I have no idea what he’s talking about.
I pause. “…No?”
The word hangs there a second too long.
He looks at me sharply. “No?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to,” I say carefully, setting the papers down. “I haven’t even been given the tutor’s contact yet.”
A beat. Something shifts in his expression, his brows pulling together.
“That should’ve been handled,” he says, clipped. Like I’ve personally let him down.
My spine straightens slightly. “By me?”
“Yes.” His tone is even more annoyed now. “I need you to stay ahead of things like this.”
I blink at him. “Jaxon, I’ve been here for less than forty-eight hours.”
“That doesn’t change the timeline,” he replies.
Okay. What an ass. Who does he think he is?
I inhale slowly, keeping my voice even. You need this job, I remind myself. “Then maybe I need the timeline. Because right now, I don’t even know what the adjustment plan is.”
His jaw tightens. “It’s the updated academic schedule her tutor is coordinating with the school. We discussed this with the agency.”
“No,” I say, firmer now. “You discussed that with the agency. I got a general placement brief and a start date.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“I don’t have access to your emails,” I add. “Or your conversations. Or whatever you assume I already know.”
Silence stretches.
Then—
“I don’t have time to train someone from scratch,” he says, voice rising.
I stare at him. “Excuse me?”
“I need someone who anticipates,” he continues, like he didn’t just cross a line. “That’s what I’m paying you for.”
Heat flares in my chest.
“Anticipates what, exactly?” I shoot back. “Information you haven’t given me?”
“That’s not—”
“No, let’s be really clear,” I cut in, stepping closer. “You asked me about a tutor I don’t have contact details for, about a plan I haven’t seen, based on a timeline I was never told existed.”
His expression hardens. “This is important.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t,” I fire back. “I’m saying you don’t get to hold me accountable for something I was never included in.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but I’m on a roll now. “I can’t do my job blind,” I snap. I can’t even believe the audacity of this man.
“You want me to show up for Lily? Then you actually have to give me the information I need.”
His eyes narrow, something sharp flashing there. “I hired you to take care of my daughter, not question how I run my life.”
“And I’m trying to do exactly that. But I’ve been here exactly one day,” I say, incredulous. “One day.”
He looks like he’s about to say something, but I cut him off before he can. I don’t even care that he’s my boss right now. He’s being unfair, and I’m not letting him treat me like this.
“Figure out what you actually expect from me,” I say, grabbing my phone from the counter. “And maybe—just maybe—tell me next time.”
I turn before he can respond.
“Zara—”
I don’t stop.
The sound of my footsteps echoes just a little too loudly as I disappear down the hall, leaving him standing there in the kitchen.
***
By the time I pick Lily up from school, I’ve replayed that argument at least fifty times.
Each version gets worse.
Each version ends with me unemployed and back on a train home, explaining to Danny how I managed to blow up my “fresh start” in under forty-eight hours.
Cool. Love that for me.
“Zara!”
Lily barrels into me the second she spots me at the school gate, backpack bouncing, pigtails slightly crooked.
The sight of her knocks the edge off everything.
I crouch down just in time to catch her. “Hey, you.”
“You’re here!” she says like it’s a surprise.
“I told you I would be.”
“I know, but sometimes grown-ups say things and then they forget.” She says it matter-of-factly, not accusing. Just… used to it.
Something tight pulls in my chest.
“Well,” I say, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, “I don’t forget.”
She studies me for a second, like she’s deciding whether to believe that.
Then she nods. “Okay.”
Trust. Given just like that. God.
“Ready to go?” I ask, standing and taking her hand.
“Can we stop for a snack?”
“Always.”
We walk a couple of blocks to a small café on the corner. It’s warm inside, smells like sugar and coffee, and Lily immediately presses her nose to the glass display.
“Can I have that one?” she asks, pointing to a cupcake covered in an alarming amount of pink frosting.
I grin. “That one looks like it might cause a sugar explosion.”
“I like explosions.”
“I figured.”
We settle at a small table by the window, Lily swinging her legs under the chair as she carefully peels the wrapper off her cupcake.
I watch her for a moment, letting the quiet settle between us.
This part? This is easy.
“Tell me something about you,” I say.
She looks up, frosting already on her cheek. “Like what?”
“Anything. Favorite color, favorite animal, biggest secret.”
“My favorite color is purple. My favorite animal is a dragon. And my biggest secret is…” She leans forward, lowering her voice. “I don’t like math.”
“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
She beams, then takes a huge bite of her cupcake.
“What about you?” she asks around the frosting. “What’s your favorite?”
“Hmm.” I pretend to think. “Favorite color… probably green. Favorite animal… definitely not a dragon.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why not?”
“They seem like a lot of responsibility.”
She considers that. “That’s true. You’d have to feed them a lot.”
“Exactly.”
“And they might burn your house down.”
“Yes.”
She nods solemnly, like we’ve reached a very important agreement.
“What about your biggest secret?” she asks.
I hesitate for half a second. Because the truth is—I have a pretty big one right now.
Instead, I smile lightly. “I still sleep with a nightlight sometimes.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Really.”
“That’s not even embarrassing,” she says. “I do that too.”
“See? We’re the same.”
She grins, clearly delighted by that.
We finish our snack, and by the time we head back outside, the afternoon sun is softer, the air cooler.
“Can we go to the park?” Lily asks, slipping her hand into mine.
“Sure.”
The park is only a few minutes away, and Lily runs ahead the second we reach it, heading straight for the climbing structure.
I settle onto a nearby bench, watching as she scrambles up the ladder with complete confidence.
“Watch me!” she calls.
“I’m watching!”
She reaches the top, throws her arms out like she’s just conquered a mountain. “I’m the dragon queen!”
I laugh. “Of course you are.”
She slides down, then runs back over to me, breathless. “Did you see?”
“I did. Very impressive.”
“I’m the best climber in my class.”
“I believe it.”
She plops down next to me, leaning her head briefly against my arm before popping back up again.
“Can you push me on the swings?”
“Absolutely.”
I follow her over, giving her a gentle push as she kicks her legs forward.
And as I stand there, pushing her gently, watching her laugh—
Everything else fades.
The argument. The tension. Jaxon. All of it.
Because right now, it’s just this.
A little girl who gives her trust so easily, who wants nothing more than to soar into the sky.
And standing here in the late afternoon light, I realize something that settles deep in my bones—
No matter how complicated things get with her father…
I’m not going anywhere.