Nanny For The Soldier Bear (Shifter Nation: Werebears Of The Everglades)

by Meg Ripley

  But there were days, especially when I folded his boxer briefs and tucked them away in his drawer, that things felt a little…intimate. Maybe too much so. I felt like a wife in some ways: taking care of Peyton, preparing dinner, looking out for Conner, cleaning up…but for as much as I did around the house, any emotional connection with Conner was nonexistent. He didn’t talk to me like a girlfriend, or even like a close friend. More like a coworker that he spent a lot of time with and got to know by proxy.

  And of course, there was zero physical interaction between us. He didn’t even seem to like it if I casually touched his arm as we spoke. The first time he’d yanked his arm back from me, I’d learned to give him more personal space. I didn’t know if he just didn’t like being touched or it was related to his PTSD, but I wasn’t about to ask.

  It’s just a job, I told myself as I slid into bed. Just a job that I’m doing for the time being. I wanted to make sure Peyton would be okay and that they were settled. Maybe one day, I’d move on and find something in the teaching field, but right then, I was happy to take care of them and feel needed.

  11

  Conner

  From the moment I woke up, I couldn’t deny the date. As much as I tried to put it out of my head and not think about it, I couldn’t. There was a notification on my phone. It was marked there on the family calendar hanging in the kitchen.

  That morning, I hadn’t said much at breakfast. Jessie had made pancakes, but I’d only been able to get down a bite. When she asked, I assured her they tasted fine and that my stomach was just upset. Of course, then she’d gone off to get me some antacids and a glass of water. I drank it, chewed the chalky tablets and thanked her, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough to quell the wrenching ache in my gut; it was the familiar, deep down in my bones, surging through every part of me ache that nothing would fix.

  Except maybe some vodka—and I made sure I had plenty around for the occasion. I’d been doing a little better, drinking less week by week. But that night? Not a fucking chance.

  I checked in with Mason, as was my normal morning ritual. As usual, he answered my text with, “Nothing new. Sorry.” All their leads had dried up. They were useless, as far as I was concerned.

  The conclave wasn’t much better. When we’d gone to talk with them, they were deeply concerned. They had representatives in the area who would be doing their own investigation, but they hadn’t accomplished much, either. It seemed that everyone was content to just let it go and move on with life. Everyone except me and Peyton. We were stuck in the misery of missing two people no one seemed to give a damn about.

  I made it through the day in a daze. The only mission we’d had during my shift was a simple one: rescuing a boy who got himself stuck in a tree. I watched as Jamari climbed the ladder to bring him down and made sure the EMTs were on their way to treat his wounds.

  When I got home that evening, Peyton had already finished her homework and was playing a game with Jessie while dinner was in the oven. Even if I didn’t think I could eat, I appreciated how good it smelled. I’d gladly pay extra if it meant she’d keep making amazing meals like she had been. They greeted me with a hello, but I walked straight to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, gulping it down before Jessie came into the kitchen.

  “I have some chicken baking,” she said.

  I nodded and poured myself a drink with a lot of vodka and a splash of orange juice. “I don’t think I’m going to eat, but thank you.”

  “Oh.” With concerned eyes, she watched me down a huge gulp of the drink, then top it off with more vodka. “Are you okay? You seem…out of it today.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Did she not bother to check the calendar? Did she have no idea what day it was?

  “Well, I’ll let you know when dinner is ready in case you change your mind.”

  I nodded and took my drink to the bedroom so I could be alone. I’m sure she judged me or thought I was an asshole, but I didn’t care. I turned on the TV and flipped though the channels until I found something that occupied enough of my attention.

  Jessie knocked on my door a little later. “Dinner is ready. Do you want to come eat?”

  “Nah,” I muttered.

  “Do you want me to bring you a plate?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  I heard her walk away and felt a twinge of guilt. It wasn’t her fault; apparently, she didn’t realize what was going on. Whatever, I breathed, swigging back another gulp.

  I hadn’t been paying much attention to the time, so I was surprised it had gotten so late when Jessie knocked again.

  “Is it okay if Peyton comes in to say goodnight?” Jessie asked.

  I groaned but pulled myself out of bed, stumbling to the door, and opened it. Peyton stood there, looking a little shy. I bent down to hug her and kiss the top of her head.

  “Night, honey,” I slurred.

  She answered with a sweet little, “Night,” and turned to take Jessie’s hand. They walked toward Peyton’s bedroom, and I closed the door.

  Seeing them walk away like that gave me a sudden pang of loneliness. What the fuck was I doing? I wanted to be with them, but more than that, I wanted to be part of the relationship they were building together; not just the third-wheel drunk uncle who couldn’t take care of his niece.

  As wasted as I was, it hadn’t dulled the pain; it flared in me hot and demanding. I heard the door to Peyton’s bedroom close and the thought of Jessie leaving, of being alone in the house with Peyton sleeping, choked me. I struggled to suck in a breath and hurried to open my door.

  Jessie turned to me and we looked at each other for a long moment.

  “Um, did she get to bed okay?” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Yeah, she’s okay, I think. We talked some.”

  My eyebrows drew together. “Is something wrong?”

  She glanced toward Peyton’s door and I realized we were probably talking a little too loudly. She motioned for me to join her in the living room, and I waited for her to turn around before I moved down the hall so that she wouldn’t have to see me stumble.

  I sat beside her on the couch and waited for her to speak.

  “Peyton was a little sad today because it’s her dad’s birthday. I’d seen it weeks ago on the calendar, but I thought it was better not to bring it up. I wasn’t sure what it would be like for either of you, to be honest, and I didn’t want to make it worse. But, this morning she told me and said she was going to draw him a picture at school.”

  “Did she?” I asked, my voice breaking and my throat thick. She had noticed after all; she’d known the whole time.

  “She did. It was very sweet. She was…” Jessie scratched her neck and looked down.

  “What?”

  “She wanted to take it to his grave today. But it seemed like you needed some space, and I didn’t want to bother you with it. I didn’t think it was really my place to take her, either, so I said that maybe we could talk to you and see if you could go this week some time.”

  I put my head in my hands, but it was the wrong move. A wave of nausea rushed over me and I hurried to the kitchen; there’s no way I would have made it to the bathroom. I threw up in the trash and when I lifted my head again, I found Jessie holding a glass of water out to me.

  “Thanks.” I took it and drank it too fast.

  “Do you want me to heat up some of the chicken? It can’t be good for you to have been drinking all night on an empty stomach.”

  I wanted to hate her for it. I wanted to scream at her to get away from me and never come back. I wanted to stop her from caring. Instead, I nodded once, numbly, and sat hard at the kitchen table to watch her pull the food out of the fridge and prepare it for me. I ate slowly, and by the time I’d finished and she took my plate, I was already feeling a little more sober.

  “Thank you,” I said. “It definitely helped buffer the vodka.”

  She chuckled. “I guess that’s good. Unless you were trying to numb your
pain.”

  “That’s what I’m always trying to do.”

  She gave me a sad smile. “I’m sorry that there’s so much of it.”

  “Me, too.” I looked at her for a long while, then dared to ask her what I’d been longing to. “Will you…stay a little while? I…I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  She pulled her lower lip into her mouth. “Sure, I could stay for a little longer.”

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” I pulled a bottle of my favorite red from the cabinet.

  “Are you sure you should…?”

  I paused for a moment. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Iced tea?”

  “Perfect.”

  I poured two glasses and handed her one. I tapped mine to hers and said, “To the best nanny on the planet.”

  She smiled shyly and looked down. “Thanks. I don’t really have any experience, so it’s good to know that I’ve been helpful.”

  “You have been. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I think it’s pretty obvious that I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Kids aren’t all that hard. You just have to be in the present with them.”

  “And I’m not.” I walked into the living room and flopped down on the couch. She followed and sat beside me.

  “You’ve been through a lot, and having Peyton is a big adjustment in your life. I haven’t known you that long, but…I’m sure with your therapist and everything, you’re making progress.”

  I laughed. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Well, honestly, I don’t.” She sighed. “I just…never know what to say to you. I’m certainly no therapist. I was taught how to connect with kids in school. But when it comes to men, I just don’t—”

  “I’m sure you were able to connect with boyfriends that you’ve had.”

  “I haven’t really had any.”

  “Oh, come on,” I said. “Don’t do that innocent little schoolgirl act where you pretend to be all pure and innocent.”

  Her face grew redder than I’d ever seen it. I felt the embarrassment like hot fire run up my chest. God, could I say anything right to her?

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean…it’s just that…you’re so…”

  “Naive?” she offered.

  “That’s not what I was going to say. Beautiful. Selfless. Caring. Surely, someone in your life noticed and tried to get close to you. You must’ve had boys falling all over you.”

  “I have had dates. And I guess I could’ve called a boy or two from high school ‘boyfriends.’ But I’ve never been in a long-term relationship. In college, I studied hard and was the boring girl who would rather read than party. Sorry. It’s lame, I know.”

  “I’m just surprised that no one tried to ask you out.”

  She shrugged. “When you stay in your dorm room and don’t go anywhere except class, you don’t meet people easily. I only went on a few dates. But why are we talking about this?”

  “I didn’t mean to bring it up. It just illustrates my point that I can’t effectively connect with not only kids, but anyone. I’m always putting my foot in my mouth.”

  She took a sip of iced tea and gave me a sympathetic smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it.”

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid.” But at least then I knew she was single.

  “How’s today been?” she asked.

  “Difficult. Mostly a blur.”

  “Does it help? To drink it away like that?”

  “For a time. But it always fades. Then the pain is usually worse.”

  “Why do you do it?”

  I gave a half smile. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Is therapy helping? I’d think talking about it would make it better.”

  “Why do people always think that?” I challenged. “Talking about it makes it more real, and that usually makes it more painful. After therapy, the pain is so much worse.”

  “But doesn’t it help in the long run?”

  “Doesn’t seem to.”

  “Then why do you keep going?”

  “I don’t know what else to do.” I set down my glass and ran my fingers through my hair. “Therapy, medication, self-medication. What else is there?”

  “Having fun, spending time with friends and family, finding a purpose in life.”

  “Purpose.” I huffed. “Who on this planet has managed to find that?”

  “Lots of people.”

  “Have you?”

  She took a moment to respond. “Partially, I think. I got into teaching because I wanted to change lives and help kids—that’s a purpose. I’m trying to do that now with Peyton.”

  “Maybe that’s my problem. I’m not living for much.”

  We continued to talk, getting deeper and deeper. Deeper than I had gone with anyone in a long time, including my therapist. By the time Jessie looked at her phone, it was already 5am.

  “You know, maybe you should just stay,” I offered. “You’re going to need to get Peyton up and ready for school soon.”

  She started laughing. “Look at all these texts! I didn’t plan on staying so long. My sister must be freaking out wondering where I am.”

  “No doubt. You’re gonna be grounded, for sure.”

  She continued to laugh and put her hand on my arm as she doubled over. “You’re probably right. I’m in deep shit.”

  Her touch sent a flood of warmth through me, driving my inner bear wild. I wanted to pull back, but I needed to feel her close. She stood and looked in my eyes and I held her gaze for a moment. Something in what I saw there made me inch closer to her. Before I stopped to think about it, I pressed my lips to hers.

  She pulled back and gasped, blinking at me. “I’m sorry, I just…wasn’t expecting that.”

  I walked past her toward the hall. “I’ll set up the bed for you. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  I went to the bedroom and attempted to make things look somewhat tidy, trying to not to think about the kiss. I don’t know why I’d done it, and I didn’t know how to interpret her reaction.

  She stood in the doorway, watching me as I picked up my dirty clothes and straightened the pillows.

  “Sorry,” I said. “It’s a mess.”

  “Mine is messy, too.”

  “I doubt that.”

  She leaned against the doorframe and gave me a sly smile. “You know, I’m not as sweet and innocent as you think I am.”

  “No?” I walked back over to her. I stood just feet from her and considered my next move. It could have gone so many ways. But I had to know.

  I took her face in my hands and kissed her again, harder this time, letting my desire for her be known. That time, she let me kiss her—and she even kissed me back. But then she put her hand on my chest and broke away, looking down and resting her head on my shoulder.

  “Conner,” she whispered. “This…isn’t a good idea. Peyton’s right in the next room, and I work for you. I just think it’s better if we don’t do this.” She met my eyes, and she looked sorry.

  I was sorry, too, and took two steps back. “Well, do you have everything you need?” I asked.

  She nodded and bit her lip.

  I nodded and gently shut the door. In the living room, I shook the blanket from its folded square and lay down, pulling it up over me. But as soon as I reclined, the wave rushed over me, so I sat back up and put my feet on the floor.

  The anxiety hit me first; then, a wave of sadness. The loneliness burned hot, right beside the rejection, making the perfectly terrible end to a perfectly terrible day. I put my head in my hands and tried to breathe.

  It worked for a while. My heart slowed, my throat relaxed; I felt like I could breathe again. Then, the memory of last year on this day came to the forefront of my mind: me, Conner and Alaina, out for a night of fun. Peyton had been home with a babysitter; it might have been Nikki, in fact. Even if things hadn’t gone so wrong, Jessie still might have found her way into my life.

>   My recollections of last year mixed with the memories of the last hour and created a perfect storm in my heart. I felt more alone than I’d ever felt in my life. I’d taken a chance with Jessie—and things had gone terribly wrong. Who knew what would happen next. Maybe she’d quit. Maybe she’d hate me. Hell, maybe she’d even fall for me. I wasn’t sure which option would be worse.

  I wallowed in the pain for a while, letting the thoughts and emotions take their turns wreaking havoc on my mind. When it became too much, tears filled my eyes. I let them fall, wanting to be rid of them once and for all. Weren’t women always saying to just cry it out and that a good cry was all they needed? Maybe there was something to that. So, I decided to take a chance and just give in.

  I found myself sobbing and then a creak of floorboards caused me to look up. Jessie stood there watching me. I quickly wiped my eyes and swallowed my tears, burying my feelings; she couldn’t see me like that.

  “Conner, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She made her way over and sat beside me, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Did I…make things worse?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I was just thinking.”

  “It’s okay.” She rubbed my back, and it was as if her hand radiated comfort, rubbing circles of warmth to my soul.

  The tears threatened to continue, but I swallowed them down.

  “You can cry,” she said, leaning in and speaking into my ear.

  Her closeness and warmth made it almost impossible for me to keep the tears from falling. I blinked fast and looked up, hoping they’d dry.

  “Conner,” she soothed, “Let it out. It’s always better that way. I would never tell anyone. I would never do that to you. You’re safe with me. I’m here for you.”

  She put her arm around me and rested her head on my shoulder. She continued to rub my back, and when I closed my eyes, I felt the comfort from not only her touch and words, but from her scent. She smelled like peace, kindness and—most importantly—hope, and I could hear the purring of my inner bear as he reveled in her essence.