Page 33 of Bad Wolf's Nanny

“That’s hard to believe,” Rick said lightly.

“It’s not,” Dane muttered. “I’m gone half the week. Missing feeds. Missing naps. Missing him.”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud. It just slipped. Along with everything else lately.

Rick looked at him then. No teasing this time. Just a level, quiet look.

“You didn’t ask for this,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s mine. That’s all that counts now.”

Rick nodded slowly. “And Lola?”

“What about her?”

“You trust her.”

It wasn’t a question, but Dane answered anyway. “With his life.”

They reached the end of the hall. Dane stopped at the supply cupboard, pressing his fingers to his temples for a moment before muttering, “If she hadn’t offered…I don’t know how I would’ve handled it.”

Rick tilted his head. “Funny how people walk into your life at just the right moment, huh?”

Dane didn’t like his tone. Didn’t like the glint in his eye, either.

“Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Of course not,” Rick said, “it’s just an observation.”

He walked away without another word, leaving Dane standing there with a shirt in his hand and a head full of static.

Rick wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part.

Lola had come into his life like a storm he hadn’t prepared for. And now she was part of the rhythm of it, quiet mornings, shared coffee, Sam’s midnight cries, the hush of her singing drifting down the hall.

He didn’t know what that meant.

He just knew he couldn’t afford to lose it.

And that was starting to scare the hell out of him.

***

By the time Dane reached his apartment, the sun had dipped behind the ridge, casting long shadows through the streets of Silvermist. His body ached, his shoulder throbbed, and his mood was hanging by a thread.

He opened the front door quietly.

The baby monitor’s faint static met him first, followed by the gentle creak of Lola’s footsteps somewhere down the hall.

“Dane?” she called, soft and uncertain.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling the door shut behind him, “it’s me.”

She appeared in the hallway like a ghost; oversized hoodie, messy bun, socked feet, silent on the floorboards. Her brows drew together the moment she saw him.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s fine.”