Page 27 of Puck Your Nanny

The sound of Calvin and Peter’s voices downstairs interrupts us. Nate glances toward the hallway.

"We should get going," he murmurs. "The car will be here soon."

I nod, shifting Will in my arms. "I just need to grab his bag. I packed everything last night: bottles, diapers, toys, extra clothes. Just in case." I grab the bag from the floor near the crib, but Nate takes it before I can throw it over my shoulder.

He steps back, letting me go first. His hand rests on my back as we walk down the hall together. The gesture warms me.

Calvin waits at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a matching suit. His curls are slicked back with gel, which is unusual for him, but he looks good. He reaches for Will as soon as we approach, easily cradling him against his chest.

"Look at you, little man. All dressed up and handsome." Calvin's voice is soft, his hand rubbing Will’s back.

Peter appears from the living room, adjusting his shirt cuff. His glasses catch the sunlight as he looks our way, nodding. He stays composed, but his expression softens when he sees me.

The doorbell chimes, signaling the car’s arrival. Nate’s jaw tightens before he gives a curt nod. "Time to go."

Calvin adjusts Will in his arms and follows Nate out. Peter waits, holding the door for me. I meet his eyes, finding reassurance there despite his usual cool demeanor.

Taking a deep breath, I step outside into the morning sunlight, ready to face the hard day ahead and be there for my Alphas.

I sit in the front pew of the church, shifting slightly as the wooden bench presses into my spine. William sleeps peacefully in my arms, unaware of the heavy silence hanging in the air. Nate steps up to the podium, clears his throat, and adjusts the microphone. His gaze sweeps over the crowd gathered to mourn his father and stepmother.

Nate's broad shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. He pauses, gripping the edges of the podium tightly. He lifts his head, meeting my eyes for a moment before turning to address everyone else.

“I struggled this week to find the right words to describe my father,” Nate begins, his voice low but steady. “He wasn't a simple man. He wasn't always a good man, either. My father was complicated. He built homes, beautiful houses filled with the dreams of the families who bought them. He poured himself into every foundation, every brick, every carefully placed beam. But in his personal life, his decisions sometimes caused pain. A pain that lingered long after he moved on.”

His eyes flick in my direction, lingering on William nestled in my arms. Nate swallows hard, steadying himself.

“But there are good memories, too. When I was eight, my dad built a rink behind our house. It wasn't anything fancy, just a flat patch of backyard flooded with water and frozen by winter air. He spent days smoothing the ice, staying up late after work, pouring water in the chilly night to make sure it froze just right. One afternoon, he handed me my first pair of hockey skates. We laced them up together, his large hands clumsy with theunfamiliar knots. I still remember how he laughed when I stood up and fell flat on my face. But he picked me back up, over and over, teaching me to skate until my legs ached. That rink, that winter, started my love of hockey. It set me on the path that led me to where I am now.”

Nate pauses, blinking fast as tears gather in his eyes. A quiet sniffle echoes from someone behind me. I adjust William, feeling a pang in my chest at Nate’s vulnerability.

“And now,” Nate continues, his voice thick with emotion. “I find myself guardian to my half-brother, William. My father wasn't perfect, but I truly believe he would have wanted the best for Will. I hope... I hope I can raise Will in a way that honors the best parts of who my father was. The hardworking man. The father who built a backyard rink because his son dreamed of skating. The man who, despite his flaws, tried in his own way to give me a good life. I hope I can embody those good aspects and be someone Will can depend on.”

His voice cracks, and he takes a slow breath to steady himself. A heavy silence settles over the room, broken only by the soft creaking of pews as people shift.

In my arms, William stirs. His face scrunches, eyes fluttering open with a confused whimper. I bounce him gently, trying to soothe him back to sleep, but he fusses louder, breaking the respectful quiet of the church. A few heads turn toward us, their expressions soft with sympathy, but my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

I rise from the pew, cradling Will close to my chest, and slip from the sanctuary. Out in the hall, away from the quiet tension of the funeral, I pace slowly, murmuring soothing words to William as he continues to fuss, overwhelmed by the emotions around him. Babies are like sponges.

“It’s okay, Will. You’re okay."

Calvin approaches me at the reception, weaving through the guests with an easy stride. He stops beside me, eyes flicking down to William nestled in my arms.

“I can take over the watching little man. Nate’s in the back, having a rough time. I think you should check on him.”

My chest tightens. I glance down at Will, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of my dress. He’s settled now, content after fussing through most of the service. I hesitate, but Calvin reaches out, his hands steady as he lifts Will from my arms.

“You’re sure? I don’t want to just pass him off on you.”

“Daisy, I got him. Go to Nate. He needs you more than Will does right now.”

A weight settles in my stomach. I nod, brushing a hand over Will’s soft hair before stepping back. Calvin secures him in his arms, rocking him with ease, a quiet grin forming as Will nuzzles against his chest. I linger a moment, watching them and then turn and weave through the crowd toward the hallway.

The church is quiet back here, away from the hum of conversation. As I pass the powder room, movement catches my eye through the slightly open door. I push it open.

Nate sits on a cushioned bench beside a vanity, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers tangled in his hair. His suit jacket is draped over a chair, his tie loosened, and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. His shoulders shake.

I step inside, shutting the door behind me. “Nate.”

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