Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(111)

I speed all the way home; it's a miracle I don't get a ticket.

When I get there, Zay's just finishing putting Sadie in her car seat, running his fingers through his hair. It's not styled at all today, the long side hanging messily over his forehead. He's wearing those knee-high Converse with the buckles, and a black shirt that says Body Piercer, Baby on it.

As soon as he sees me pull into the driveway, this rush of relief crowds his features and then he's just at my door, yanking it open wide and pulling me out and into his arms.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Brooke,” Zay groans as he squeezes me hard enough to choke the life out of me. I don't want to admit how good it feels, how much I hate the things he said last night but still feel like forgiving him. “Where the hell were you?” he asks as he pushes me a step back and takes hold of my upper arms. “I called the police and everything. Fuckers said they couldn't do shit until you'd been missing some arbitrary fucking amount of fucking time.”

“You're saying fuck a lot,” I whisper, but the way his sea glass green eyes trace over my body makes me shiver. “I stayed at my parents' place last night. I just … didn't want to be here with you.” He lets go of me with a sigh and checks the time on his phone. He really needs to go or he'll be late to pick up Grace.

“Want to come with me? We can talk on the drive.”

I shake my head and take a step away from him.

“Are you still planning on leaving today?” I ask as I look up at Zayden. He purses his lips so tight that the silver pointed studs he's wearing today poke out at me like swords. “I'll take that as a yes.”

I try to move past him, but he reaches out again and gently grabs my elbow.

“I've been thinking about this all night … and it … I'll ruin your life, Brooke. I know I will. You have so much fucking potential. There's so much more for you out there than me.”

“Whatever.” I jerk my arm away from him and storm towards the front door. Part of me believes what he's saying, knows that this is the logical, smart choice to make. But it also sucks. And I hate it. And I want somebody that will choose me for me, that wants to be with me because I make them smile. If I'm not enough for Zayden to take a chance on, then that's okay. I can do this.

I feel tears dripping down my cheeks and move quicker when Zay's boots chase after me. I end up getting inside and slamming the front door before he can reach me, flicking the lock and turning to put my back against it.

“Come on, Brooke,” he says as he tries the knob and then peers in the window at me. “Don't do this. Come with me. We should talk.”

“Don't make Grace wait in the office with the principal; she hates that,” I say and manage to keep the quiver out of my voice. When I look around the room, I see Dodger sitting on the couch, but all of the chihuahuas missing. Zayden's duffel bag is gone and so is Sadie's crib.

I bite my lower lip and close my eyes, leaning my head back against the door.

“Can we talk when I get back?” he asks, putting his hands against the glass and leaning his cheek against it.

I stand up suddenly and yank the door open, turning to face Zayden with my arms over my chest. My hair gets in my way and I shove it hard over my shoulder, blinking my salt soaked and sticky contact lenses at Zayden.

“Aw, Smarty-Pants,” he says, and the soft sound of his voice and the adorable way he wears suspenders stuck to his tight jeans makes me crazy. I want to kiss him and punch him both at the same time. “Don't get all weepy again, or I won't be able to—”

“To leave?” I ask as he takes a few steps closer to me and then pauses as Sadie starts to cry from inside the open van. I gesture my hand at the car. “You can't just leave the baby in there,” I say as he studies me with a careful expression and then rakes his fingers through his messy hair. “It's okay that you want to go back to Las Vegas,” I lie, “I would, too, but you've got to just go. Leave me alone, alright. I'll be fine. I always take care of myself, and I always excel. What should make this any different?”

“You know, I'm just a phone call away if you need to talk. You have my number and—”

“I deleted it. Best to make a clean cut,” I tell him as I dash the tears away and then cross my arms over my chest. I guess I'm being melodramatic here, but what else is there to do? I want him to want to stay so fucking badly, but I can't and won't beg for scraps.

“Brooke, I really … I do like you. A lot. I mean, I'm crushing hard here, Smarty-Pants. This isn't easy for me either.”

“You can't or won't try anything with me, but you date girls that you hate. I understand. Zayden, you need to go. If you're not staying, then fucking go.”