His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 347 Shots Fired

Ella

The silence of my apartment was a loud contrast to the charged atmosphere in the car ride home.

Logan’s proposition still lingered in my mind, accompanied by an unwavering feeling of dread.

Soon, Logan might have to meet my parents. This wasn’t what I wanted. This wasn’t what I had planned. And inside of me, all the while, Ema roiled with anger because I had pushed Logan away.

She didn’t understand, couldn’t fathom why I had repelled Logan, our fated mate, when the connection, the want, was so palpable, so magnetic between us.

“Why, Ella?” Ema’s voice was barely more than a whisper, like a warm summer breeze rustling through my thoughts. “The desire, the connection, it was all there. Why did you push him away?”

Sighing, I made my way toward the bathroom to take my makeup off.

The bathroom was my favorite room in my apartment in a strange way; the soft sage green tiles, the plants I kept hanging in the window, the scent of lavender, the old claw foot bathtub. On a whim, I decided to turn on the faucet and run a hot bath. The steam began to fill the small room, filling me with a sense of calm at the same time.

“It’s not that simple, Ema,” I muttered out loud, my gaze fixed on the water as it began to swirl around the bottom of the tub.

“But it is,” she insisted, a hint of impatience coloring her words. “He is our mate, our destiny. He is trying, trying so hard to show us he is more than the life he was born into, that he wishes for escape, for redemption. Why can’t you see that?”

“I do see that, Ema. Trust me, I do.” I closed my eyes, a sigh escaping my lips. “Listen. You might be right, partially,” I conceded. “But you’re not seeing the whole picture, Ema. He might be struggling, but he is still intertwined with the darkness, with a world we can’t be a part of.”

Ema’s silence was thoughtful, probing. “But do you really believe that? Do you really believe that we belong only to the ‘right side’ as you call it, that we can’t walk in the shadows, at least for a time?”

I let out an exasperated sigh. The conversation was beginning to steer toward territory that I didn’t feel like delving into right now.

to let my hair down in the mirror and wipe my makeup off. “I hoped to present him as

relentless. “But are you truly shackled, Ella? You had multiple chances to flee, to escape this tangled web. Yet, here

bathroom mirror, the truth in Ema’s words wrapping around me like vines, “I stayed because of my integrity, Ema,” I murmured, but the words tasted like ash in my mouth. Deep within, buried beneath layers of denial and fear, was the acknowledgment of

speak. But before she could, a loud ring

the screen, quietly cursing under my breath as I saw Moana’s picture staring back at

met moments later with Moana’s head of unruly red hair and her freckled face, which had aged only slightly over the years. Her green

grinning as

in my party dress. “I, erm… Went out,” I said, which wasn’t a complete

lilt in her voice. “There’s a certain glow in your voice, and your cheeks are all rosy. I’m a mom, so I can tell. It was a date, wasn’t

my cheeks indeed warming up, as I stammered, trying to dismiss her observations.

“I’ve been your mother long enough to know when my little girl has

my defenses crumbling. “Alright, fine,” I admitted, biting my lip. “I… I’ve met someone. His name’s

eyes widened. A heavy silence settled on the other end of the line, filled with a mixture of surprise

a hint of wariness. A moment later, he was snatching the phone away from Moana, and

days, and he had been sporting a bit of facial hair lately. He’d been wearing his

never been one to rush into things. What’s got you so eager

felt denser as I hesitated, unsure how to frame the words. “We’re… engaged,” I mumbled quickly,

this, when only a few minutes earlier I had been hemming and hawing over the idea. It just sort of slipped

voices collided in shock.

mixture of embarrassment and defiance bubbled within me. “It was fast, I know,” responded a little too quickly, gripping the phone tighter. “But we’re fated mates. It just feels right, so why

“Fated mates?” My mother whispered, her voice soft

more pronounced, “it’s just… we want to be sure he’s the right one

the sudden sound of gunshots echoed from down the street. It was an all too common symphony in my neighborhood, a

as my parents, attuned to every nuance in