Nanny To My Highschool Nemesis

chapter 2

Brooklyn POV

"Move!"

Emerson shoved past me before I could even process what was happening. He threw himself over Daisy and me, arms spread wide, taking the full weight of the branch across his back.

The crack was loud. Then silence.

I scrambled to my feet, heart hammering. "Emerson — "

"I'm fine." He straightened up slowly, brushing bark off his jacket like it was nothing. Like he hadn't just thrown himself in front of a falling branch for two people he claimed to hate.

"You saved us," I said.

He turned around and looked at me with something close to disgust. "I wasn't saving you. That's my little sister."

I blinked. I looked at the little girl standing beside me, then back at him.

The little girl from the sidewalk. The one I'd just put a plaster on. She was staring up at Emerson with big, quiet eyes.

"This is Daisy," he said flatly. "She's mine. So don't go getting any ideas about how I'm suddenly a good person."

"I don't care whether you live or die, Emerson. I want to be very clear about that." I crossed my arms. "But I'll admit — that was the nicest thing you've ever done in my presence. Even if you're still being completely insufferable about it."

He opened his mouth.

Daisy stepped forward and tugged lightly on my sleeve. I looked down at her.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Her voice was small and careful, like she hadn't used it in a while.

My chest went soft immediately. "Of course. That plaster was yours to keep anyway."

I glanced back at Emerson. "How does someone as horrible as you end up with a sister this sweet?"

His jaw tightened. "Don't talk to Daisy."

"She just talked to me."

"There's no point." Something shifted in his expression, just slightly. "She hasn't spoken since our mother died. So whatever you think is happening right now, it isn't."

I went quiet. I looked at Daisy again — her stillness, the way she communicated with her eyes more than her mouth. Then back at him.

"My dad passed away a couple of years ago," I said. Not to Emerson. To Daisy. "Grief is like that. It takes your words before it takes anything else." I paused. "It feels like a club nobody asked to join."

Daisy looked at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, she smiled.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and read the message. My new employer. Asking where I was.

"I have to go." I zipped my bag and looked at Daisy. "Will you be okay if I leave you with this big, scary man?"

Emerson shot me a look. "Stop performing, Brooklyn. Nobody's impressed."

I gave Daisy a small wave and walked away without another word to him.

---

Behind me, Daisy pulled out her phone and typed something. She held it up for Emerson to read.

Why were you so mean to her? She's really nice.

Emerson read it. Looked away. Watched Brooklyn disappear around the corner.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe she is."

---

I found the address from my confirmation email and double-checked it against the gate in front of me. A large, clean townhouse at the end of a quiet street. Way out of my neighbourhood.

I rang the bell.

The door opened almost immediately. A tall man in his forties, well-dressed, tired around the eyes.

"You must be the new live-in nanny."

"Yes, sir. I'm Brooklyn Lawson. I'm so sorry I'm late — "

He held up one hand. "You're lucky my children aren't home from school yet. If they had been, this conversation would be going very differently."

"It won't happen again," I said quickly.

He stepped aside and let me in. The house was spotless and expensive and completely quiet.

"You'll be responsible for getting my children up and ready for school each morning," he said, leading me through the hallway. "Homework gets done before dinner. Dinner is healthy. I don't negotiate on that."

"Understood."

"My daughter is eleven. Sweet girl, easy to manage." He paused. "My son is seventeen. He is not."

I stopped walking. "I'm sorry — your son?"

"Teenager. Troublemaker. You'll figure it out."

I pulled out the paperwork the agency had given me and looked at it again. It clearly said one child. A young girl.

"Sir, I was only told about a daughter. Nobody mentioned a teenage son."

Patrick Weston looked at me the way people look at someone who is about to become their problem. "And now you know. If he misbehaves, you deal with it."

"But sir — it says here he's seventeen. I'm barely eighteen. How am I supposed to discipline someone my own age?"

"The agency said you were the best in your intake group." He straightened his jacket. "Figure it out."

He walked away before I could say another word.

I stood alone in the hallway, staring at the ceiling.

Okay, I told myself. You need this job. If this kid is such a disaster that he needs a nanny to feed him and remind him to do his homework, how bad could he actually be?

The front door opened behind me.

"Dad, Daisy and I are home."

I turned around.

Emerson Weston stood in the doorway, backpack over one shoulder, Daisy at his side. His eyes landed on me. His face went completely still.

"Son," Patrick said from the other room, "meet your new nanny."

Neither of us moved.

Oh God

I had just been hired as my bully's nanny.