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When your nanny comes to your bedroom to talk but… Nelly: Are you awake? I quickly type out a reply. Me: Yeah. I’m in my room. What’s up? The three little dots pop up, showing me she's typing, and then quickly disappear. Me: Nelly? Nelly: Can you come downstairs? That… is odd. Not only has she never come into the house this late before, but she hasn’t actively sought me out in over a week, since that night… Me: Come up here. My knee is killɪɳɡ me, and the stairs make it worse. Nelly: Are you sure? Me: My room isn’t off-limits, Nell. I hear her footsteps pause outside my door. Me: It’s not locked, you know. Me: Just open it. The handle turns, and I watch with bated breath as her form appears in the open doorway. Damn. She's been crying. I’m used to midnight visits from an upset five-year-old—but not this. “Tell me. What’s wrong?” I extend a hand toward her, hoping she’ll take it. “Come here. Sit down.” “On your bed?” ❤️ Read The Spice Play now, free with Kindle Unlimited >>> https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DCQBVFDP