Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
ROWAN
I close my door softly behind me and lean against it for half a second, allowing the quiet to wash over me.
Thank god I unpacked during Jemmy’s nap, because if I had to do it right now, I might actually cry. I’m exhausted in that deep, bone-heavy way that only comes from spending an entire day with a small human who constantly needs you.
But it’s a good kind of tired.
I head into my temporary bedroom and change into a pair sleep shorts and a t-shirt that’s seen better days, then grab my container of chicken parm and spaghetti before collapsing onto the couch.
The cushions sink under my weight, and I hunch over the coffee table as I eat, but I don’t care.
I can’t even think about sitting at a table right now.
It’s been one day. One.
And I’m already counting down to the weekend. Not because I don’t want to be here. But because I want a full day where I don’t have to move.
Still, as tired as I am, my heart feels full.
Jemmy is pure magic. Big imagination. Boundless energy. The kind of kid who makes the world feel brighter just by being in it.
And Presley is such a sweet girl. Quiet. Observant. Attuned to everything and everyone.
In the few hours we spent together today, I saw her walls lower a fraction. Enough to let me in.
I consider that a win.
After I finish eating, I rinse out the container, brush my teeth, and crawl into bed, sighing against the mattress. I haven’t been in bed this early in years, but I don’t care.
I flip on the TV and scroll until I land on a show I’ve seen a dozen times. Comfort background noise. Something familiar.
I’ve just settled in when my phone lights up with a video call, Emily’s name flashing on the screen.
I groan softly, not wanting to talk to anyone right now, my best friend included. But I don’t want to worry her. So I sit up and accept the call.
“Hey, Em.”
She frowns immediately. “What happened? Where are you? That doesn’t look like your van. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I promise.”
She scrunches her nose. “Then where are you?”
“At the in-law apartment of the family I’m nannying for.”
Her hazel eyes widen. “What? How did that happen? When we talked yesterday morning, you were literally planning your next adventure.”
“Maybe I found it. I had this opportunity and—”
“You said yes.” She sighs knowingly.
“I had to.”
“I know.” She smooths a wayward strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “So who are you nannying for? Are you still in the same town? What did you say it was? Maple Glen or something?”
“Sycamore Falls.” I laugh. “And yes. I’m still here. One of the volunteers at the shelter asked if I’d be interested in nannying for her older brother. He’s a doctor. Two kids. Seven-year-old daughter, almost two-year-old son.”
She waggles her brows. “Is he single?”
“Of course you’d go there.”
“Do you blame me? You know I’m a sucker for the boss-nanny trope. Forced proximity. Age gap. I can read that all day, every day.”
“You’re horrible,” I respond nonchalantly.
But I can’t ignore the warmth filling my stomach over the idea of a little boss-nanny action with Hayden. Of his unshaven jawline scraping between my thighs. Of his hands roaming my frame.
Which is the last thing I need to be thinking about right now, but I can’t help it.
It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man.
I make a mental note to find my vibrator and put it to use… Especially if I’m to see Hayden in a suit every day. Or in gray sweatpants. Or even in jeans. I don’t think the man has a single bad look.
“So…is he?” Emily cuts through my thoughts.
“Is he what?”
“Single.”
I square my shoulders. “We didn’t discuss relationship status.”
“Well, is there a Mrs. Doctor?”
“No. It’s only him and the kids.”
“Divorced?”
I part my lips, considering her question.
“I don’t think so. There’s a sort of…sadness in this house.” I lower my voice. “I think his wife may have passed away.”
Emily’s face softens. “That’s heartbreaking.”
“It is. And his daughter… She doesn’t talk.”
“Is she deaf?”
“No. Just doesn’t speak. I’m pretty sure she can, but she just…doesn’t.”
Emily studies me with the same analytical gaze I’ve grown used to over the years. “You see yourself in her.”
I exhale a long breath, leaning back against the headboard.
“I know what it’s like to have people look at you like you’re different.
After my surgery… Hell, even before when I was wondering if I’d ever step foot out of that hospital again…
I hated it. Everyone tiptoeing around me.
Treating me like I might keel over and die any second.
The way people looked when they came to visit me. Like I was already dead.”
“Most people don’t know what to say,” she offers sympathetically.
“I’m still the same person I was before.”
She shakes her head gently, her painted red lips curving into a smile. “No. You’re better. You finally stopped running yourself into the ground.”
“Don’t remind me,” I mutter, my stomach tightening from the reminder of my old life.
How I used to work seventy or eighty hours a week trying to prove myself.
How I’d chosen success over relationships.
How I’d forgotten what’s important in life.
Until I got the wake-up call I needed.
“How long are you staying?” Emily asks.
“I’m not sure. Maybe until the winds change.”
She laughs. “Okay, Mary Poppins.”
“You know I don’t make long-term plans anymore. I’ll stay until I’m ready to move on.”
“Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That you’ll still come home for my birthday. No way in hell am I celebrating the first anniversary of turning twenty-nine without you.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Good.” She flashes me a smile. “I miss you. Miss having my bestie right around the corner.”
“I miss you, too. But I need to do this. Need to have as many adventures while I can.”
“I know,” Emily responds with a long sigh.
She hates when I remind her of this, but it’s the truth. Hell, I’m lucky to even be alive now, and it’s only because someone with my same blood type was thoughtful enough to donate their organs before passing away.
Truthfully, I didn’t expect to wake up from that surgery, not after learning all the risks involved. Even when I did, I expected my body to reject the donor heart, as my doctor warned could happen.
But it didn’t. I survived.
Still, I know the statistics. Most heart transplants only last fifteen years before they start failing. Twenty years if I’m lucky. Thirty years if I’m really lucky. A follow-up transplant is possible, but there are greater risks. Greater complications.
Greater chance of rejection and ultimately…death.
This is why I quit my job at my father’s law firm and used my savings to buy a van. So I can experience everything this world has to offer before my time is up.
“I think what you’re doing is great,” she adds. “I just worry about you.”
“I’m fine. Promise. I’m taking all my meds every day like I’m supposed to. Plus, I’m nannying for a freaking doctor, for crying out loud.”
“Does he know?”
“I’m not sure that’s a topic of conversation for my first day of work. ‘I know you just hired me, but about a year-and-a-half ago, I was diagnosed with arrhythmogenic right ventricular cardiomyopathy and would have died if I hadn’t received a donor heart. But I’m fine now.’”
“Don’t you think you should tell him? Just in case?”
“You worry too much.” I avert my gaze, picking at a pull in the duvet. “Plus, he treats me like there’s nothing wrong with me. Like I’m not on borrowed time.”
“Unlike me,” she exhales.
“You don’t do that. You just…care about me. That’s all.”
“And I always will.” She wipes her eyes. “Enough of this. Tell me about the doctor. Is he hot?”
While this is the last thing I want to talk about, I can sense Emily needs a pick-me-up, so I give her what she wants.
It’s not like I have to lie about it either.
“Let’s just say I don’t know which I like better,” I begin with a mischievous grin. “Him in pajama pants, a suit, or gray sweatpants.”
“Gray sweatpants? He actually wears gray sweatpants?”
I nod slowly, all too familiar with her obsession with hot men in gray sweatpants. She even follows several social media accounts devoted solely to this topic.
“And he looks damn good in them. Based on a cursory glance, he’s definitely packing underneath them, too. See what saying yes can get you?” I giggle as a knock sounds at my door.
My stomach drops, heat blooming on my cheeks. How thick are the walls? Could Hayden have overheard what we were talking about? God, I hope not.
“I have to go,” I whisper. “There’s someone at my door.”
“Keep me updated.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I end the call and scramble off the bed, drawing in a calming breath before opening the door.
Hayden stands there in pajama pants and a t-shirt, looking just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. Which is odd, considering he’s the one who knocked.
Then I realize what I’m wearing. Tiny shorts that barely cover my ass. Thin t-shirt. No bra.
And it’s chilly.
Fantastic.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, aiming for casual, despite the fact that I can feel my nipples straining against my shirt.
He blinks, lifting his gaze to mine. “I just…wanted to thank you. For today.”
“No thanks required. It’s my job.”
He shakes his head. “You did more than I asked. I can’t remember the last time I actually ate with my kids, other than when my mom invites us over. So thanks for that.”
“Of course.”
He lingers for a beat, his eyes dipping to my legs again before slowly traveling back up my body, pausing on my chest. But not on my nipples. Instead, he’s studying my tattoo.
Or, more accurately, the scar my tattoo hides.
I adjust my shirt in the hopes of covering it up. This is one of the reasons I got the tattoo once my doctor said it was safe to do so. I was so tired of people seeing my scar and feeling sorry for me.
Now, most people don’t look past the intricate network of vines and roses snaking over my chest and along my collarbone, the scar blending seamlessly into the design.
But Hayden isn’t most people. He’s a doctor. And I can’t shake the feeling he can see what I’m hiding.
“If you don’t need anything else, I’m pretty beat. Jemmy tired me out today.” I casually pull at the fabric of my t-shirt to cover up more of the scar. But by doing so, it reveals a sliver of my stomach.
“Right. Of course.” He hesitates, studying me with unnerving intensity. “I just wanted to let you know I appreciate you. Even if I didn’t show it yesterday.”
“We’re all allowed bad days. Good night, Hayden.”
He nods, his gaze briefly lingering on my tattoo once more before meeting my eyes. “Good night, Rowan.”