Worth the Try: A Single Dad Nanny Rugby Romance

Elodie Cole has always done the right thing. So why does her life feel like it’s falling apart?
Losing her job and her home in a matter of hours forces her to face a terrifying truth: being “nice” hasn’t protected her from anything. When she lands a temporary nanny job with Atlanta’s pro rugby captain, she vows to finally start choosing herself.

Ansel Miles is used to pressure.
As a single dad and team captain, he’s mastered the art of sacrifice. But when his carefully balanced life teeters on the edge, Elodie’s arrival feels like more than help – it feels like hope. For his daughter. For himself. For something he stopped believing in: a future built on joy instead of duty.

As the summer unfolds, their connection deepens from tentative trust to something that feels like home. But when a painful piece of Ansel’s past storms back in, threatening custody and exposing their relationship to the world, they’re forced to ask the hardest question of all:

Can two people who’ve always given everything to everyone else finally fight for each other?

“You’re being let go.”

Air whooshes from my lungs as my stomach clenches. The world tilts and dims, and my palms sting with how hard my nails are digging into them.

“But—” I can’t finish. I can’t breathe. A wave of dizziness overtakes me, and I grip the sides of the chair to keep my balance.

Slowly, as if it’s paining him just as much to do this as it is for me to hear it, Dan from HR slides a stapled set of papers across the desk, the movement serving only to draw attention to the golden name plate glinting mere inches from his wrist. A golf club is engraved on either side of his name. A distant thought hits, and I wonder if our company gave that to him, or if someone else did—his mom, maybe, or a partner.

Wait. Not our company. Not anymore. Because I’m being let go. I’m being fired.

My knuckles blanch. I think I might be sick.

Dan speaks again. “We’ve, ah, we’ve put together a severance package. I think you’ll find it’s incredibly generous.”

I stare at him. Generous would be not firing me. But he looks so upset, so uncomfortable about delivering this news, that I feel bad for him.

He must see something in my expression, because his own falters. “Elodie, I’m so—”

I snatch the papers from the desk, startling Dan with the movement. It startles me, too, if I’m being honest, because I’m nice. Disney princess level nice. It’s literally my most defining trait. Unless you count my hair, which has its own zip code most days.

Trying not to let the pages shake in my hand, I scan the words. The terms really are good. Six months’ severance with the promise of glowing reviews to potential employers, three months of them paying for insurance, and a meeting with a professional staffing agency to help me with next steps.

The beginnings of a migraine begin to form around the back of my head. Or maybe that’s just the nausea. My mouth is dry.

Dan produces a pen and moves it close. “You’ve been an incredible person to work with. So nice.”

See? Nice.

Which is, apparently, not enough. Even though it should be.

“But Fore Gone is going in a different direction, and your role is being absorbed into a regional position.”

My eyes snap up. “Is Carolyn Ackerman getting it?” She’s been my boss ever since I started, and she never liked any of the event ideas I pitched. Too risky, too gaudy, too pricey, and on and on.

He winces. “Yes.”

With a defeated sigh, I grab the pen and click the top, then sign and date the agreement. It’s a nice pen, with smooth black ink and a really nice grip. Dan produces a second copy for my signature, then counter-signs both and returns one to me.

Sliding the pages into my hands and folding them in half, I tell him, “I’m keeping the pen.” My voice is flat. A calm sort of numbness fills my chest, and I’m grateful. Better to be numb than shrieking.

“Of course,” he says. As if it’s every day that he fires people and they declare they’re keeping the pen. Maybe it is. Maybe they do.

Dan stands, and I follow. I know what’s next. At least, I can guess at it.

Sure enough, an empty box awaits me when I get back to my cubicle. A strangled laugh escapes. Eight years I’d been here, still in a damn cubicle, and all I have to show for it is a severance package and a cardboard box. Eight. Years.

What is happening?

“You don’t have to stay here,” I tell Dan.

He shifts on his feet. “I, um,” he looks around and lowers his voice. “I have to.”

Now a laugh really does come out. “What do they think I’m going to do? Throw my laptop? Flip a table?”

Erica’s head pops over the top of the cubicle, her big brown eyes growing more and more round as she takes in the scene unfolding right before her. “Oh, hell no!” she says, her eyebrows furrowing as she glares at Dan. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s okay, Erica.” Lies. All lies. It’s not okay.

“Uh, no it’s not okay,” she shoots back, echoing my thoughts as she rounds the corner. “What in the fresh hell is this, Dan?”