Page 4 of Puck Your Nanny

I walk to the small trash can. It's already piled high with crumpled tissues and takeout containers. I let the self-help book fall. It lands with a soft thud, sliding partway down the side of the overflowing mess.

Just as I turn away, a sharp ding cuts through the heavy silence of the room. My phone. I grab it from the bed, my heart giving a pathetic little flutter of hope, quickly squashed when I see the sender. Freda.

I unlock the screen and read the message.

Freda

Daisy, I am SO, SO sorry!! I tried, I really did, to talk to Brent, but it's his house, you know? He's made up his mind. I feel awful. :(

His house. Right. Because that somehow excuses everything—the years of friendship, the promises, the supposed support. All of it tossed aside because it'shis house.

A wave of frustration, mixed with a heavy dose of resignation, washes over me. My thumbs hover over the keyboard, a brief flicker of anger sparking a desire to type out a reply, to lash out. But what would be the point? It won't change anything, and making Freda feel worse won't make me feel any better. It'll probably make me feel worse. ItisBrent's house, after all. He doesn't have to let me live here, even if I am paying rent.

I close the message, not bothering to reply. The silence in the room feels even heavier now, pressing down on me. I stare atthe phone's home screen, at the neat rows of apps, each one a reminder of a life that feels out of reach.

Then another notification pops up. A bold banner across the top of the screen:NannyJobs4U - New Job Alert!My breath hitches. I pay an exorbitant monthly fee for this service, specifically for the "priority notifications" that are supposed to alert me to any live-in or high-paying nanny positions that match my criteria. It's been nothing but a money sink so far, a constant reminder of my dwindling funds.

But this... this could be something. I tap the notification, my fingers tremble. The app opens, and the new job posting fills the screen. My eyes scan the title, and my heart leaps into my throat:

URGENT FAST HIRE: New Alpha Guardian to Infant Half-Brother Needs Live-In Nanny (Betas Only)

My eyes scan the details below the headline.

NannyJobs4U Exclusive Posting.That means the person who posted this paid extra for the agency to handle the initial screening, to weed out the unsuitable candidates. That's promising and a little intimidating.

Location: Berllow (approx. 1 hour from current location).The same state, at least. Close enough that I could get there for an interview, even without a car. Far enough that running into Freda and Brent would be highly unlikely.

I scroll more, reading further:

Seeking experienced, reliable Beta nanny for long-term, live-in position. Must have extensive experience with infants and a degree in Child Development or a related field. The successful candidate will be responsible for the full-time care of a 3-month-old male infant, half-brother to the Alpha guardian. Due to the unique household dynamic—a pack of Alphas—only Beta applicants (male or female) will be considered.

My heart beats faster.Extensive infant experience?Check.Degree in Child Development?Check.Long-term, live-in?Exactly what I need. Thepack of Alphaspart gives me a slight pause, but honestly, it's not a dealbreaker. I roll my eyes a little. It’s not like any of them would be interested in me. Betas can’t take a knot, so what’s the point in even thinking about it? It’s safer this way—less complicated. At least I won’t be tempted.

NannyJobs4U will be conducting initial screenings and selecting the top six candidates for in-person interviews with the Alpha guardian. Further details will be provided to shortlisted applicants. Must be willing to start in the next two days. This is an emergency hire.

Six. Only six. The odds aren't great, but they're better than zero. And right now,better than zerois all I have.

My thumb hovers over theApply Nowbutton. What do I have to lose? I take a deep breath and tap the button. The screen changes:

Application Submitted.

Now, the waiting game. The agonizing, stomach-churning waiting game. I glance at the digital clock on my phone. Two weeks. Fourteen days. That's all the time I have before I'm officially homeless. I clutch the phone tighter, a silent plea forming in my mind.

Please, please let this work. Please let me hear back before it’s too late.

Chapter 2

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay, William. It's okay." I bounce the tiny, crying bundle in my arms, trying to offer comfort, but it's useless. He tries to arch his back, his face screwed up and red, fists flailing. I nudge the bottle's nipple against his lips, but he turns his head, his crying escalating to a wail that grates on my nerves.

He's only three months old, yet he's endured a lifetime's worth of pain, even if he doesn't understand it yet. It's been a week since the accident, since Dad and Stacy were killed. In the midst of my own grief, I became William's guardian. The reality feels unreal, like some bad dream. Them, gone. And me, responsible for this fragile life. There was no one else; our family is scattered,and none of them are able to care for a baby. Foster care? I couldn't. Not to my brother.

I try the bottle again, rocking him gently. "Come on, buddy, you gotta eat." He only cries harder, his body rigid. My chest tightens, anxiety and helplessness knotting together. I'm failing. I'm a hockey player, an Alpha. Strength and control are supposed to be my thing, yet this baby has me completely undone.

A glance at my watch; thirty minutes until the nanny interviews start. The league gave me two weeks—family emergency and bereavement they called it. Two weeks to bury my father and stepmother, sort through their things, and figure out how to be a single parent. Then it's back to the ice, back to the NAHL, back to the Vipers.How can I balance it? How can I be there for William when my life is all training, travel, and games?

The nursery door creaks open, and Calvin peeks in, his short, curly red hair a mess. Worry lines his freckled face, his brown eyes soft. "Everything alright in here?" He steps in, his presence a bit of calm in my storm.

"He won't eat. Been crying for an hour." My voice is rough.

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