The Nanny Rules

by Melynda Price

  I’m hit with a wave of déjà vu that makes me want to puke. I can’t believe this is fucking happening again. I stand frozen for several minutes, watching as they talk. I can’t see her face as easily as I can his, but he looks hopeful, even happy by whatever it is she’s telling him. He stands and hugs her, lifting her out of her seat and kisses her.

  I’ve seen all I can bear to watch. I just need to get the fuck out of here before I bust in there and make a scene that will put me on the front page of the tabloids—again.

  …

  Brody

  “Brody, you’re home early.”

  Amelia’s voice is a little too chirpy when she walks in. I’ve been sitting on the couch, brooding for the last hour. The muscles in my neck and shoulders tense as she walks by and I detect an undercurrent of anxiety in the air. There was a time I would have been ignorant to these subtle nuances, but I’m not a fool anymore.

  “Daddy!” Lily squeals and runs over to me. She leaps into my lap and I give her a big hug, depositing a kiss on her cheek.

  “Hey, Lily pad, how was class?”

  “It was great. We started a new dance tonight.”

  “I can’t wait to see it. Why don’t you head upstairs and put your pajamas on? I’ll be up to read you a story in a minute.”

  “Okay.”

  She scrambles off my lap as Amelia steps into the closet with Lily’s dance bag. I head for the stairs. I’m so furious, I can’t even look at her.

  After tucking Lily into bed, I retreat to my room to pack a bag for an early flight in the morning. Anger simmers inside me like a pressure cooker waiting to explode. Old hurts are coming back, and I’m having trouble sorting the past from the present. There’s a storm raging inside me. I need some time and space to figure out how I’m going to handle this, because inconveniently, she’s still Lily’s nanny and I’m still her boss.

  A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. It’s soft, almost timid. Since when does she seek permission before entering my room?

  “Brody, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  There’s a nervous edge in her voice and I shoot her an innocuous glance, betraying none of my thoughts. “Sure. What’s up?” I’m preparing for the worst and asking myself for the hundredth time how I managed to get myself in this situation again. She’s got one chance to tell me the truth, because I swear to God if she lies to me…

  I shove a pair of sweats into my bag and turn to give her my full attention. She hesitates in the doorway and my breath stalls in my lungs as I wait for her to speak.

  “You, umm—seem upset.”

  I study her a moment before responding. “Is there a reason I should be upset?”

  She looks surprised and maybe a little guilty. “No. I—you haven’t said two words to me since I got home, and you’re acting weird.”

  “I’ve got a lot on my mind, Amelia. The fate of this season is resting on my shoulders. It’s a lot of pressure.”

  “I know it is.” She closes the door and moves closer to me. “I can’t imagine the stress you’re under.”

  “How was your day?” I ask, turning the topic of conversation back to her. “Anything you want to tell me?” If she hasn’t done anything wrong, then this is her chance to come clean about Mason. She’s got one shot to convince me she isn’t fucking me over.

  “Tell you? Like what?”

  She gives me a confused look like she has absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. Oh, she’s good. But Amelia forgets, I was married to the best. She’s lying to me and I’m done. This is the kind of shit I’d expect from Stella, but not her. I thought she was different. I thought wrong. Fuck. This.

  I go to my closet and grab a change of clothes, hastily shoving them into my bag.

  “I’m going to Penner’s.”

  “And you were going to tell me this when?”

  “About the time you told me you were seeing your ex behind my back.” I zip my duffel closed, sling the strap over my shoulder, then turn to leave, but she’s blocking the doorway.

  The look of “oh fuck” on her face tells me everything I need to know. The guilt, the regret, the panic… It’s all there. I head toward her, but she doesn’t move.

  “Step out of the way, Amelia.”

  “Brody, wait. I need to tell you something.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. I told you never lie to me. Now get out of my way.”

  I don’t wait for her to move. As she stands there frozen in panic, I pick her up, set her aside, and walk out to the door.

  “He’s my brother!” she calls out and my feet grind to a halt.

  Her brother? The initial rush of relief that comes over me is quickly drown out by anger. Why would she lie to me about who he was? Unless she’s lying to me now.

  “Mason is my brother and I—I didn’t want you to know,” she confesses softly, and that little hitch in her voice is what finally gets me. She’s telling the truth.

  Slowly, I turn to face her and steel myself against her tears. She broke my trust. What I want to know is why. What’s so important that she’d risk ruining us?

  “He’s an addict. My brother, Mason. My whole family, they’re all addicts.” The confession pours out of her. “I didn’t want you to know because I didn’t want it to change the way you saw me.”

  “Why would it?” I don’t understand. She isn’t making sense.

  “Because it changed the way I see myself. It changed the way my friends and their parents saw me when I was a child. You want to know the real reason I became a psychologist? It’s so I could do for other kids what no one could do for me. So that I could save them from living under a cloud of guilt and shame they don’t deserve.”

  There’s a note of mounting hysteria in her voice. I see the panic in her eyes. She’s genuinely afraid to tell me this, and I feel like I’ve been sucker punched for the second time today.

  “My mother abandoned us when I was sixteen and Mason was fourteen. She chose drugs over her children, and my father was no better.”

  Everything inside me wants to take her in my arms and protect her from these memories. I had no idea this was her life, and it breaks my fucking heart to hear her talk about it.

  “Mason wasn’t always like this.” Tears roll down her cheeks, and she quickly wipes them away. “He was a great baseball player. You should have seen him, Brody. Even at fourteen, everyone said he had the talent to go pro someday.” A spark of pride glimmers in her eyes, and her smile is sadly nostalgic. But as her expression quickly changes to stark grief, I helplessly watch as the fleeting memory is chased away by her nightmare.

  “We lived in a bad neighborhood. One day we were walking home from the bus stop—our dad was supposed to pick us up, but he never came—and some gang members stopped us. We ran, but I wasn’t as fast as my brother, and they caught me. Mason stopped and tried to protect me, but they took his bat and beat him with it. Amelia’s voice cracks, and I’m struck with a wave of nausea.

  “His arm was broken in three places. His career was over before it ever started, and it’s my fault. If he hadn’t been trying to protect me, he would have gotten away.”

  I’m speechless to hear the words coming out of her mouth. It guts me to see the pain and guilt she’s been living with all these years—how it’s damaged her thinking, twisting it into a false sense of responsibility for someone who’s lost his way.

  “If none of this would have happened, he’d probably be a world-famous baseball player. Instead, he’s a hopeless drug addict. When he couldn’t play ball anymore, it crushed him. It was all he had. After that, Mason spiraled out of control. By the time he was sixteen, he was addicted to meth. By the time he was twenty, it was heroin and gambling. My brother saved my life, and in return, he lost his. I’ve tried to help him. I’ve given him everything, but it’s never enough.”

  I can see how hard this has been on her, the emotional toll it’s taken. As much as I empathize with her brother’s plight, a part of me is furious w
ith him for putting her through this. Every protective instinct wants to tear into this guy. “What does he want, Amelia? When you were meeting with him at the coffee shop. What did he want?”

  She meets my stare and has difficulty holding it. She doesn’t want to answer me, and for a moment I wonder if she won’t. I barely hear her whispered response. “Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  A curse flies out of my mouth before I can call it back.

  “He says it’s for treatment,” she quickly adds, rushing to his defense, which I suspect she’s done all her life. “He wants to get clean, but he doesn’t have insurance, and he needs to front a portion of the money before they’ll let him in.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask me for the money?” Fuck, I would have given it to her.

  “Because—”

  She starts crying, and it feels like my heart is being torn out of my chest.

  “You’re my boss—”

  “I’m more than your goddamn boss,” I cut in, offended that this is how she’s defining our relationship. Is that really how she sees me? After everything that’s happened between us?

  “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of us—of you.”

  “That’s not what I’m thinking.” I can’t take it anymore. She looks so fragile and broken, such a paradox from the strong, self-confident woman who’s stolen my heart. I reach for her wrist and pull her into my arms.

  Her bravado crumbles and she breaks, her words hitching between muffled sobs. “What are…you…thinking, then?”

  I’ve never seen her this vulnerable. I choose what I say carefully because I’ve got one shot to get this right. “I’m thinking how strong and brave you are to rise above your circumstances, and I admire the hell out of you. Do you know where the treatment center is that your brother wants to go to?”

  She nods. “It’s in Minnesota.”

  “All right. I’ll fly you and Mason back there. Get your brother checked into rehab and have them send me the bill.”

  She gives me a look like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. I’m crazy about this woman.

  “Brody, you don’t have to do that. Do you have any idea what that’s going to cost?”

  I shrug, not particularly concerned. It’s for a good cause. “I’ve spent more money in worse ways.” I’m disappointed it took her this long to tell me the truth, and I’m hurt she didn’t trust me not to judge her because of it. I guess we’ve both got trust issues for different reasons. I wonder if we’ll ever get to the point where we can let them go?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Amelia

  It took almost a week to get everything arranged for Mason. Julia is staying with Lily while I’m away, but I don’t expect to be gone more than a few days. I just want to make sure he gets settled in before I head back.

  Mason flags down the flight attendant and gives me that grin he gets when he’s up to no good. I look out the window, pretending that I don’t know him. He’s an incorrigible flirt and very handsome. They visit a moment, and when I look back, I roll my eyes and sigh. “Do you really think you should be drinking that?” I arch my brow as he empties the little bottle of Jack Daniels into his Coke.

  “Relax, Mia. I’m a drug addict not an alcoholic.”

  “Is there a difference?” I quip.

  He mimics my arched-brow expression and returns my stare as he tips back his glass, takes a sip, and then smiles defiantly. “Uhh, yeah, there is. I’ve never flown first-class before. Let me enjoy it, huh?”

  And this is how it’s always been with us. I’m my brother’s conscience, his buzzkill. Silence hangs between us for several minutes before he speaks again.

  “He must love you a lot.”

  It takes a moment to catch up with his train of thought.

  “To do this for me,” he clarifies. “Brody must love you a lot.”

  I don’t want to read more into it or get my hopes up. He cares for me, but he’s had plenty of opportunities to tell me how he feels, and I can sense he’s holding back.

  “I think he’s just a really good guy, Mason.”

  “You’re selling yourself short. Any guy would be lucky to have you, even an NFL star.”

  “You’re sweet. But I think you might be a little biased.”

  “It’s the truth.” He takes another sip of his drink and then offers it to me.

  Oh, what the hell. I take a taste and the whiskey warms my throat, settling into my stomach. It’s good. I could use one of these. I go to hand it back, and he shakes he head. “You keep it.”

  “Thanks.” I settle in my cushy seat and get comfortable.

  “Maybe you should tell him.”

  “Tell him what?” I ask. Downing the drink. I set the empty glass in the little cup holder, lean back, and close my eyes.

  “That you’re in love with him.”

  I can feel Mason’s eyes on me, waiting for my reaction. I’m careful not to give him one. Lacing my fingers over my lap, I apathetically respond. “We’ll see.”

  Right now, all I can think about is getting Mason checked into treatment, and then I’ll worry about where Brody and I stand. I haven’t told my brother about the job opportunity at the U of M because I don’t want him to pressure me to take it.

  On paper, it makes sense. Brody’s season is almost over, and my contract will be up. Mason would be finishing treatment shortly after I got back to Minnesota, and he could stay with me while he was getting back on his feet. Having that support system will be crucial for the success of his recovery.

  I’ve got the decision of a lifetime hanging over my head, and before I can make it, I need a commitment from Brody that I’m not sure he’s prepared to give. I’ve fallen in love with a man who has vowed to never love again.

  …

  Brody

  “I miss Mia.”

  “Me, too, Lily pad.” It’s only been a couple days since we took Amelia and Mason to the airport, and already the house feels empty without her. “But it’s okay.” I ruffle her curls and kiss the top of her head. “She’ll be back tomorrow.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, Lily or myself.

  “I know, I’ll make her a welcome home card. I can put it in her room for a surprise.”

  “That’s a great idea, honey. She’ll love that.”

  Lily runs upstairs to go make her craft, and I’m grateful she’s found a distraction. I could certainly use one. I should probably spend some time studying our playbook, but I’m too consumed by thoughts of Amelia to focus. Instead, I grab my cell and send her a text. Haven’t heard from you today. How are things going?

  Good. We just got Mason checked in. Heading back to the hotel soon. How are you guys?

  We’re doing good. Julia left a little bit ago. She’s planning to pick you up at the airport tomorrow. Lily misses you.

  Just Lily, huh? ;)

  No, I miss you, too. It isn’t the same here without you. It alarms me how quickly I’ve come to need her, both in and out of my bed.

  Tell her I miss her.

  Just Lily, huh? ;)

  Lol. No, I miss you, too.

  The nights are long and boring without you.

  We can Facetime when I get back to the hotel. The night will still be long, but it definitely won’t be boring.

  Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about. My mind is already imagining all the creative ways we can pass the next few hours, and my dick is agreeing. Fuck, I’m already hard. Then hurry up and get your sexy little ass back there. But drive safe.

  K. It’ll take me about an hour. See you soon.

  I’m glancing through the playbook while Lily finishes making her card, and then I hear her cry, “Daddy, help!”

  Panic jolts me with adrenaline. I race upstairs to her room, but she isn’t there. “Lily?”

  “I’m in here!”

  I bust into Amelia’s room and find Lily standing by the bed. Tears roll down her cheeks, and she’s holding the card she made for Amelia. “It’s ruined,” s
he cries. “I bumped the glass of water, and it spilled over everything.”

  “It’s okay, honey.” I head over to help her clean up the mess. Water is running onto the carpet and into the top drawer on the nightstand.

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “We’ll clean it up. Run into the bathroom and grab a towel.” I right the glass, trying to contain the spill. Lily shoves a towel at me, and I quickly dry the nightstand before opening the drawer to soak up the water. I pull out the pile of papers to dry them. The top page has taken most of the damage. Carefully, I lift it and tip the edge to funnel the water and see it’s a letter from the University of Minnesota. It looks important. The date is the first thing that catches my eye. It was sent almost a week ago. I’m not trying to be nosy or invade her privacy, but curiosity has me scanning the first paragraph.

  Ms. Renshaw,

  I enjoyed speaking with you today about the internship opportunity and our clinic. As discussed, here are the details about the position. Feel free to call me with any questions you have. We hope you’ll be joining our team. I look forward to hearing from you soon with your decision.

  What the fuck? Amelia was offered a job and she didn’t tell me? Is she thinking about taking it and going back to Minnesota when her contract is up? We haven’t talked about our future, and I guess that’s probably my fault, but I assumed I’d have more time. As much as I care for her, I don’t think I’m ready to take that next step. At least, not yet. But I thought… I thought she was happy here.

  I finish reading the letter that describes the details of the internship she’s being offered, and it sounds like an incredible opportunity. I can’t blame her for at least considering it, but fuck, I don’t want her to go. I don’t want to lose her, but how can I ask her to stay? Especially if this is what she wants, what she’s been working toward with all those years of school. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t told me about it—she doesn’t want me to pressure her to stay.

  Amelia’s got a difficult decision to make, and unless she brings it up, I don’t feel like it would be right to ask her about it. If she turns the job down, it needs to be her decision, or I’m scared as hell she’ll regret it and resent me.