Page 5

CHAPTER

FIVE

MAX

T o say this transition has been difficult would be the understatement of the century. Life as a professional athlete and a single parent? Beyond challenging. I figured out the basics—feeding, diapering, dressing—pretty quickly. It’s the sheer exhaustion that’s killing me.

Caroline doesn’t sleep. Or if she does, it’s in these short, unpredictable bursts that leave me feeling like I’m constantly stuck in the wrong time zone. I’ve been a dad for a week now, and I’m so tired I swear I could sleep for days. Weeks, even.

My Crane family has been incredible. They’ve all stepped up—taking shifts, bringing me food, holding Caroline when I needed five minutes to breathe.

But they have their own lives, jobs, and responsibilities.

There’ve been times no one could come, and it was just me and her, figuring it out.

I’ve missed practices, and when I did make it to the rink, I was running on fumes. A zombie on skates.

Hockey has always been my life. It’s where I’ve always felt sure of myself.

But now? I’m not even a starter anymore.

And I get it. Coach has to do what’s best for the team.

I wouldn’t put me on the ice either—not with my recent performance.

But knowing it’s the right call doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I keep telling myself this is temporary. Caroline and I will figure out a rhythm. I’ll hire a nanny—someone who’s magic with babies, who knows the secret to getting them to sleep longer than twenty minutes at a time. And then I’ll get back on track.

At least, that’s the plan.

And God, I hope it happens soon.

The first round of nanny interviews was a disaster. Jaden and I sat through applicant after applicant, and honestly, half of them shouldn’t be trusted with a cat—let alone a child.

Now Jaden isn’t even here for round two. He’s on his way to California to check on Anna himself. He stopped waiting for her to call him back. I hope they can work things out. He deserves that.

Instead, I have Logan.

“Hey, Sean,” I greet him with a half handshake, half hug, using his team-given nickname.

As a whole, the guys on our team are normal—except when it comes to a fascination with stupid nicknames.

I purchased a horrible designer knock-off shirt.

One. Freaking. Time. And now I’m TJ Maxx for life.

Sean’s nickname is weirder yet. One of the guys on the team thought his name was Sean even though it sounds nothing like Logan, and the mistaken name stuck.

“TJ Maaaxx,” he draws out my name with a grin. Clapping me on the back, he leans in. “I’m hoping we get some hot nannies today.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I’m praying for competent.”

He chuckles. “Fair point.”

Logan drops into the chair next to me. “So Jaden’s off to Cali?”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Miranda called and told him Anna needed him. He left this morning.”

Logan nods, his expression sobering a little. “Hope they work it out.”

“You and me both,” I say, running a hand through my hair.

Caroline is in her room napping like a champ. Her favorite time to sleep is anytime I’m not.

The doorbell rings, and I look at Logan.

He taps his hands against his knees and straightens. “All right. Let’s find you a nanny.”

I head toward the front door. “Yeah. Let’s.”

Our first interview is with a sweet-looking, plump older woman.

Definitely not the “hot nanny” Logan was hoping for, but in appearance alone, she looks like she’d be great with children, and I’m feeling hopeful.

I invite her into the living room, fighting to stifle a laugh as I catch Logan desperately schooling his features.

If he was praying for eye candy, this woman is the exact opposite.

Not that I care. I’m not here to find love—just someone who can connect with Caroline and, hopefully, make my life easier.

She introduces herself—though the name flies straight out of my head—because I’m completely distracted by the thing hanging from her neck. It’s long, dark, and wrinkly, like a mole, a skin tag, and a shriveled-up earthworm had a baby. And once I’ve seen it, I can’t unsee it.

Caroline’s cry cuts through the awkward silence from the other room.

“I’ll get her,” the woman announces, already on her feet before I can respond.

I shoot Logan a look. He raises his brows and mouths, “ Hell no. ” I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from losing it.

But wormy growth or not, if she’s qualified, she might be my best shot.

She comes back a minute later, Caroline cradled in her arms, looking very comfortable.

“I just love babies,” she says warmly. “She’s about four months?”

“Yeah.” I nod, managing a weak smile.

And then it happens.

Caroline, curious little creature that she is, reaches up and pinches the woman’s… thing. She grabs it between two tiny fingers and gives it an experimental tug. I’m frozen in horror.

But instead of protesting, the woman laughs. Actually laughs.

“She likes it already,” she says with a grin.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” I manage, swallowing down a wave of bile.

“Oh, don’t be,” she says, still chuckling. “My last kids loved it too. We call it my love nub. Littles love to squish it and squeeze it. It’s very soft. Like a sensory toy that’s always available.”

“Oh. Really.” My voice is dry and brittle. I don’t dare look at Logan. I can feel his barely contained laughter vibrating next to me.

“So,” I try to rally, “tell me about your last family?”

She smiles, clearly oblivious to the war going on inside me. “They were wonderful. Three children, ages?—”

Her words dissolve into white noise as I watch my daughter continue her exploration. Tug. Squish. Tug. Flick. She presses her tiny thumb and forefinger into the nub like it’s the greatest discovery of her short life.

And I’m going to be sick.

I extend my arms toward Caroline. “I can take her.”

“Nonsense,” the woman says, waving me off. “She’s happy here.” She continues her story, but I’m not listening.

Oh, Caroline. Please stop.

Squish.

Pull.

Squish.

Flick.

I cross my arms over my stomach, trying to hold in the nausea. Acid burns the back of my throat, and sweat beads along my hairline. My daughter is delighted with her new toy, but I can’t—nope—this isn’t happening.

This woman could be Mary freaking Poppins, and I still couldn’t do it. I might be desperate, but I draw the line here. I will buy Caroline every sensory toy on the market—made of plastic— as the good Lord intended. But not this.

Never this.

I jump up from the couch. “Well! Thank you for coming! We’ll be in touch!” I scoop Caroline out of her lap so fast.

“Are you sure?” the woman asks, looking confused.

“Positive,” I say, already halfway to the door.

Logan jumps up and gets there first, swinging it open with a bright, too-big smile. “Thank you so much for coming,” he says, his voice almost singsong. “Drive safe!”

She stands in front of the doorway for a second, glancing between the two of us like she’s not quite sure what just happened. Caroline reaches toward the woman, and I pull her arm back before she can grab at the love nub again. I tighten my grip on her, stepping back instinctively.

“So we have a couple more interviews today, and we’ll let you know,” I say.

The woman nods slowly. “Well, great. You have my number.”

“That we do,” Logan says, still smiling. “Bye!”

I elbow him, warning him to keep his cool.

She finally turns and heads out the door toward the porch stairs, her sensible shoes squeaking with every step. Logan shuts the door behind her the second she crosses the threshold, leans his back against it, and lets out a low whistle.

“Well,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “That was… something.”

I lean against the wall with a groan, Caroline resting against my chest, mercifully distracted by my hoodie strings now. “I thought I was gonna puke.”

“I thought you were gonna puke,” Logan agrees. “And then I was gonna puke. It was gonna be a whole thing.”

I let my head fall back, staring up at the ceiling. “I am so screwed.”

Logan claps a reassuring hand on my arm. “Nah. We’ve got a few more interviews today. One of them has gotta be normal.”

I glance at him deadpan. “That’s what Jaden and I thought last time.”

He smirks. “We’ll find someone.”

“Fingers crossed the next one doesn’t come with a built-in chew toy.” I press my lips together, fighting a laugh.

Logan chuckles. “You’re going to hell.”

I shrug. “Yeah, and you’ll be riding shotgun.”

I’m still shaking my head when the doorbell rings again.

Logan gives me a look. “Round two?”

I sigh and straighten up, adjusting Caroline in my arms. “Let’s get this over with.”

I open the door to find a young woman standing there. Early twenties, wearing a tight top and jeans that are more rips than fabric. Her blond hair is in a high ponytail, and her nails are painted bright pink. She’s holding her phone in one hand.

“Hi! I’m Brittani. With an I.” She beams.

“Come in,” I say, stepping aside.

She practically bounces into the house, her eyes going wide. “Whoa. This place is sick . Oh my God, is that real marble?” She taps the hallway table with her fingernail like she’s inspecting it for resale.

Her attention goes to Logan. “Oh. My. God. Logan Wright! This is crazy !”

Logan gives me a look that screams please kill me now . “Yep,” he says with a tight smile. “That’s me.”

“Oh my gosh! You are so much cuter in real life. Do you think you’ll get more playing time this year?

I sure hope so. Logan Wright…when you’re Wright, you can’t be wrong.

I just made that up. It’s good, though, yeah?

Can I get a selfie?!” she word vomits through obnoxious squeals, already holding her phone up and angling toward him.

I clear my throat. “Should we talk about the job?”

“Right, totally.” The camera on her phone clicks, and she lowers it a fraction.

“I’m super great with babies. I, like, love them.

And I know everything about how to make baby food from scratch—there’s this influencer I follow who does these amazing little puree cubes.

” She pauses. “But seriously, just real quick?” She snaps another pic of Logan before anyone can stop her.

He blinks. “What the…?”

“Last one,” she promises. “For my story.”

I inhale slowly through my nose. “This is Caroline,” I say, shifting her in my arms.

Brittani glances at her like I’m showing her my car keys. “Cute,” she says vaguely, then her eyes are back on me. “Maxwell Park! Can I get a pic with you, too?”

I don’t even have the energy to react before she’s stepping beside me, holding her phone up for another selfie. Caroline makes a noise like she’s about to cry.

“You’re even hotter in person, too,” Brittani says, grinning at her screen.

Logan clears his throat. “So… what kind of experience do you have with babies?”

“Oh, tons!” she says, waving her hand. “I babysat my little cousins a couple of times. And I’ve been following this TikTok mom who knows everything about sleep training.” She taps her phone again and starts scrolling. “Hang on, I saved it…”

I glance at Logan. He’s already shaking his head.

Brittani looks up. “Do you guys, like, keep your jerseys here? Or trophies? Is there a gym?” She’s craning her neck toward the hallway. “I just wanna see where the magic happens.”

“It’s private,” I say firmly.

She pouts. “But I won’t touch anything.”

“No,” Logan says flatly. “We’re not giving house tours.”

Brittani sighs dramatically. “You guys are no fun.” Then she perks up. “What about a TikTok? Just something quick. I have this trend in mind, and we can do it with Catherine! It’ll be adorable.”

“It’s Caroline and no…” I stare at her. “No TikToks.”

“Fine,” she mutters.

I shift Caroline to my other arm. I look at Logan and nod toward the door. He gets it immediately.

“Well,” I say, stepping toward the entrance, “thank you for coming, Brittani. We’ll let you know.”

Her mouth falls open. “Wait, seriously? I thought this was going really well!”

“Definitely great,” I say with a placating nod. “But we have other appointments lined up, so we’ll give you a call.”

She sighs and flips her hair back over her shoulder. “Okay, I hope to hear from you. Also, my Insta’s on my résumé.” She glances at Logan with a grin. “And my DMs are always open.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t even flicker. “Good to know.”

The second the door closes behind her, he blows out a breath. “I feel like I need to bathe in antibacterial hand gel after that one.”

“Burn that résumé,” I mutter with a groan.

“At least we’re making headway on what we don’t want,” he says, holding out his hand and ticking off examples on his fingers. “No body-part squish toys, no fan-girl wannabe influencers…”

“This shouldn’t be this hard,” I grumble.

Logan chuckles, patting my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ve got more interviews. It’ll be fine.”

Only it isn’t fine because the last two interviews don’t even show.