5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Ken
T hree days passed and Mia’s desk remained empty, a glaring absence in my classroom. Her bubbly presence and infectious giggles were missed and worry gnawed at my stomach as I thought about her being at home, sick.
What if she was dealing with something terrible, like a major seizure? Mia had nestled into a corner of my heart, and the idea of her suffering hurt like a punch in the gut. My mind raced to worst-case scenarios, despite my effort to stay positive for the rest of the class.
During my lunch break, I fished out my phone from my pocket, the screen glowing with Marc’s contact info. My thumb hovered over the call button, not sure why I hesitated.
After two rings, Marc answered. “Hello?” he said, and his deep voice came through the speaker, tinged with exhaustion.
“Hey Marc, it’s Kendall Parker. I noticed Mia hasn’t been in class the past couple days. Is everything alright?” I tried to keep the concern out of my voice, but it seeped through anyway.
Marc’s heavy sigh spoke volumes. “No, not really. Mia had a bad seizure over the weekend. I had to take her to the hospital.”
Shit. My heart clenched at the news. “I’m so sorry. That must have been terrifying. How is she doing now?”
“She’s home resting but still pretty out of it. The doctors said she needed to recover for a few days.” Weariness and worry came through his words.
“I completely understand. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“I meant to email you about her absence. It just slipped my mind with everything going on. I’m sorry about that.” Guilt crept into Marc’s tone.
“No need to apologize. You have a lot on your plate right now. I’m glad Mia is on the mend.” I paused, an idea forming. “Would it be helpful if I gathered her assignments and dropped them off? That way she doesn’t fall behind while she’s recovering—only if you think she’s up for it.”
“That would be amazing,” Marc answered. “I appreciate you looking out for Mia like this.”
“It’s no trouble at all. How about I swing by after school today with her work?”
“That sounds perfect. Thank you, Ken.”
Marc gave me their home address, and we said our goodbyes. I ended the call, my mind already compiling a list of easy worksheets and activities to bring Mia.
I couldn’t erase the image of her slight frame in a hospital bed, fighting against her own body. The thought of Marc by her side, his face etched with fear, tightened the knot in my chest.
As I prepped for my afternoon lessons, my thoughts drifted to Marc and his dedication as a single father, the tenderness in his voice when he spoke of Mia. He shouldered so much on his own. Even though we hadn’t been friends for long, I wanted to be there for him, to ease his burdens in any way possible.
Yet this was more than friendship, I admitted to myself. A smile spread across my face at the prospect of seeing him again, at his house, even under these difficult circumstances.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the inappropriate thoughts. Marc was Mia’s father, not a romantic prospect.
It was selfish to think otherwise.
***
I knocked on the door to the Mendez residence a little after five in the afternoon.
Marc answered, barefoot, wearing a faded concert t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He stood before me, his broad shoulders slumped, and his dark eyes shadowed with fatigue, but as his gaze met mine, a flicker of relief crossed his face, his lips curving into a tired smile. “Thank you so much for coming.” His voice was low and rough as he stepped aside, ushering me in with a gentle sweep of his arm.
“It’s no problem at all.” I stepped into the warm, inviting space of Marc’s home, the aroma of freshly baked cookies lingering in the air. I spotted some of Mia’s toys on the floor, a coloring book with a box of crayons next to it—all signs of a home with a well-loved child. I offered him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m happy to help in any way I can. How’s Mia doing?” I asked.
The contrast between the coziness of this welcoming space and the worry and exhaustion etched into Marc’s handsome features tugged at my heart.
Marc led me into the house, and the hardwood floors creaked with each step as we moved through the living room. “She’s napping right now, but she’ll be thrilled to see you when she wakes up. She talks about you all the time.” His eyes softened, and a tenderness filled his voice as he spoke of his daughter.
I flushed at the compliment. “She’s a special kid. I’m just glad I can be here for her.”
Sitting at Marc’s kitchen table, I spread out Mia’s assignments—a mix of sight word practice and counting exercises. “These are some of the reading and math assignments she can do from home,” I explained, pointing to the colorful worksheets. As I walked Marc through the worksheets and projects, his brow furrowed as he listened. His eyes followed my every movement, his gaze intense and focused. Marc’s love for his daughter shone through with every word, and the depth of his devotion touched at my heart.
Despite whatever physical attraction I had to this man, it was the way he loved his little girl that won me over.
I had completely forgotten that I was sitting next to Magic Marco.
“I know it’s a lot,” I said, my voice low and reassuring, “but I’m here to help. If Mia has questions, I’m a Zoom call away. Evenings, weekends, whenever you need me.” Without thinking, I reached out, my hand resting gently on his arm, the warmth of his skin seeping into my palm. “Are you doing okay?”
Marc’s eyes met mine, surprise and gratitude flickering across his face. His lips parted, tongue darting out as if to speak, but before he could utter a word, small, pattering footsteps in the hallway caught our attention.
“Papi?” A sleepy voice called out. “Is that Mr. Parker?”
Marc’s face softened as we shared a knowing glance, and a smile spreading across his features as he turned towards the sound of his daughter’s voice. “Yes, mija , it is. Come say hello.”
Mia appeared in the doorway, hair tousled and eyes bright with excitement. She ran towards us, her small arms outstretched as I scooped her up into a hug. “Mr. Parker, you’re here!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with joy and wonder. “Are you having dinner with us?”
I glanced at Marc, a silent question in my eyes. He smiled warmly and nodded. “Of course he is, mi amor . We’re having cheese enchiladas if that sounds good.”
“That sounds amazing,” I answered, giving Mia a quick wink.
Mia’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands in delight. “Yay! I’ll help set the table!”
As we worked together in the kitchen, the domesticity of the moment struck me.
The easy rhythm of us working together felt natural, cozy, like a glimpse into a life I hadn’t realized I craved. Blanco Springs wasn’t a hotbed for gay dating, but if it had been, looking for a long-term relationship wasn’t something that I’d ever listed on a dating profile.
The sight of Marc, Mia, and me in this cozy kitchen made my heart ache in the best way; I caught myself daydreaming about dinners like this—all of us gathered around, laughter bouncing off the walls.
It felt right. It felt like home.
And it didn’t hurt that the enchiladas were divine. “Marc, this is incredible,” I said between bites. “You’re amazing. As a single guy, I don’t eat this well unless I’m at a restaurant.”
Marc ducked his head, a pleased smile playing on his lips. “It’s my abuela’s recipe. I’m glad you like it. And,” he added with a smirk, “be sure to save some room for dessert.”
After dinner, Mia excused herself to play in her room, leaving Marc and me alone once more. The conversation shifted, turning more personal as we snacked on cookies and coffee and shared pieces of ourselves.
“I’ve got to say, I’m impressed by your dedication to your students,” Marc said softly. “Maybe I was too young to notice, but I don’t remember my teachers caring as much when I was a kid. But it’s clear how much you care about them, especially Mia.”
Marc’s compliment lingered in the air. “I hadn’t always wanted to be a teacher,” I confessed, warming my hands on the steaming mug. “I studied business management in college. The plan was to work with my father at his business—financial services and all that. But I was interviewing at other places too, just to see if something better was out there, Houston or San Antonio, away from the family.” I took a sip, savoring the warmth as it traveled down my throat. “But nothing clicked. There was always something not quite right, and all the jobs meant leaving Blanco Springs.” Why was I sharing all of this? I wondered, yet I couldn’t stop, not while Marc was looking at me like that. “While I was sending out resumes and going to those soul-sucking interviews, I picked up a few substitute teaching gigs to pay the bills.”
“Oh?” Marc quirked a brow, grinning.
A smile crept onto my face as I set my cup down. “Yeah. Something just clicked. The first time I walked into a classroom, those kids looked up at me with such curiosity and… hope.” My hands animated the memory, reaching out as if to grasp the moment again. “I helped this one little boy understand subtraction that day, and when it made sense to him, his face lit up like it was Christmas morning.” I leaned back in my chair, lost in the recollection. “From that moment, I was hooked. There’s this undeniable magic in those ‘aha’ moments. It’s addictive.”
Marc’s gaze was steady, his eyes reflecting the passion in my story. “It sounds like you found your true calling, even if it wasn’t what you originally planned.”
“Every day brings something new,” I told him, then paused, wondering about this man sitting across from me. “What about you?” I asked, curious to learn more about his background and interests. “You and your brother—was working on cars a family tradition or just a shared hobby you both enjoyed?”
Marc leaned back, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. “Our dad owned a garage when we were growing up. Alonso and I spent countless hours there, learning the ins and outs of engines, transmissions, you name it.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alonso, he took to it like a fish to water. The guy’s a natural born mechanic.”
“And you?” I prodded gently, sensing there was more to the story.
Marc’s gaze drifted, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his mug. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed working on cars. But for me, it was always the outdoors—plants, trees, getting my hands dirty in the soil.” A wistful sigh escaped his lips. “I dreamed of starting my own landscaping business one day.”
I tilted my head, studying the man before me. “What stopped you?”
A flicker of pain crossed Marc’s features, his jaw tightening. “My ex-husband. He didn’t think working with plants was a ‘real’ job. Wanted me to have something more stable, respectable.” The words carried a bitter edge. “So, I took a job as a warehouse manager for a logistics company. It paid the bills, but…”
“But it wasn’t your passion,” I finished softly.
“No, it wasn’t.” Marc’s eyes met mine, a glimmer of determination shining through. “But I’m grateful for the skills I learned from my dad. And now, working with Alonso at the garage, it’s like I’m honoring that part of my history, you know?”
I nodded, understanding the importance of family and legacy. “It’s amazing that you have that connection with your brother, that you can support each other.”
“Alonso’s been my rock through everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.” Marc loved his brother, that was clear. It made me glad they had each other.
As we sat there, the warmth of the kitchen enveloping us, I took stock of this man before me. He cooked, baked, grew heirloom tomatoes and fixed flat tires—not to mention that he was sexy as hell—yet some fool let him go. None of that made sense to me.
Marc had faced so many challenges, had sacrificed his own dreams for the sake of his family, and yet, he remained resilient, focused on building a better life for himself and Mia.
In my five years of teaching, I’d met with a lot of parents, and while all of them loved their children deeply, I don’t think Marc knew quite how special he was, the incredible sacrifices he’d made for Mia’s health and happiness.
Then he turned the conversation back to me. “So, you’re a local boy.”
I snorted, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah, but my parents—well, my dad and his wife—they don’t live here anymore. They retired about an hour down the road. My sister moved too, when she got married.”
“You see them often?”
“I talk to my sister every couple of weeks or so. But—” I shook my head. “I don’t really get along with my dad. He never forgave me for not going into accounting. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me being a kindergarten teacher that bugs him. Though we had our troubles even before I jumped careers.” I caught Marc’s eyes, searching for a hint of understanding. “You know how it is. Growing up, I was a disappointment to him, like no matter what I did, it was never good enough. The whole coming out thing only made it worse. I guess I just wanted to find my own path, even if it meant drifting away from them.”
I froze, the weight of my words hanging in the air between us as I realized this was the first time I’d explicitly mentioned being gay in front of Marc.
Marc’s expression softened, and he leaned forward slightly, his eyes filled with understanding. “Ken,” he said gently, “I get it. I’ve been there too.”
His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and the tension in my shoulders eased as I met his gaze, seeing the genuine empathy there. “Yeah?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Marc replied, nodding. “Coming out wasn’t a walk in the park for me either, but my parents never stopped loving me.”
I didn’t know Marc’s parents, but I immediately liked them. “I always thought my dad would come around,” I admitted, my fingers tracing the edge of my coffee mug. “But he never did. And now… well, we don’t talk much.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he murmured.
"Thanks," I said, offering Marc a wry smile. “It could be worse, I suppose.”
“Oh?” Marc raised an eyebrow.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “You remember our waiter at Rooster’s Cafe the other day? Alex?”
Recognition flickered across Marc’s face as his smile faded. “Yeah, the one who seemed to know you.”
I nodded, a rueful chuckle escaping my lips. “Alex and I dated for a couple months, three or four years ago. He’d come to town to visit family after college.” I paused, the memories of stolen kisses and secret rendezvous flooding back. “But his family, they were very closed-minded. Didn’t approve of him being gay.”
Marc’s brow raised. “That must have been tough.”
“It was,” I admitted. “We had to keep our relationship hidden, sneaking around like teenagers.” A sigh slipped from my lips. “In the end, I wouldn’t do it. I refused to hide who I was, and that meant losing Alex.”
Marc shook his head, shrugging. “That sounds tough. But you did the right thing, Ken. No one should have to live a lie.”
I met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes making my heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Marc. That means a lot.”
“So, what happened with Alex?” he asked.
“We ended things amicably before it got too serious. He went back to his life in the city, and I stayed here.” I hesitated, debating whether to share the next part. “The thing is, I work with Alex’s aunt Nancy at school. And let’s just say, she’s not my biggest fan.”
Marc’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Why’s that?”
“She’s one of those… you know the type.” I shrugged, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “Honestly, I’m not sure if it’s because I’m gay or because I dumped her nephew.”
“Or both,” Marc suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye.
A laugh burst from my chest. “You’re probably right.”
We sat there for a moment longer, the silence between us charged with unspoken understanding, while making me realize how much I’d been craving this kind of connection—just talking with another person who understood the unique struggles we’d shared.
If I could get over this stupid crush of mine, Marc had the makings to be a great friend.
Marc broke the silence with a chuckle. “But you stuck around here, in this little town while all of your family left.”
I had to laugh. “Yes, I guess I did.” Here I was, when I could have gone anywhere. I raised my coffee mug. “To Blanco Springs.”
Marc raised his mug, clinking it against mine, and his smile lit up the room.
As the evening drew to a close, I found myself reluctant to leave. Being here, with Marc and Mia, felt right in a way that couldn’t be defined. But as fun as it had been tonight, playing house with these people—I had to go, to step back into the role of teacher and maintain the boundaries that protected us both.
I stood, the chair scraping against the floor as I pushed it back. The cozy atmosphere of the Mendez home had enchanted me, and the thought of stepping back out into the chill of my lonely apartment made me sad.
But it was time to leave.
Mia emerged from her room as I was saying my goodbyes to Marco. Her long hair bounced as she skipped toward me, her face lighting up in a bright smile that mirrored her father’s. She wrapped her small arms around my waist in a hug that held all the sincerity and warmth of a child’s unconditional affection.
I returned the embrace, bending slightly to make sure I didn’t miss a bit of that priceless connection. “I hope you feel better soon, Mia.” My voice filled with affection for this brave little girl. “Everyone misses you at school. The whole class can’t wait to see you again.”
She pulled back and looked up at me with those big, expressive eyes that seemed to understand so much more than her five years would suggest. “Really?”
“Really,” I assured her with a nod. “Your desk is waiting for you, and we’ve got so many stories to read and games to play. And I bet you have some new stories for us too, right?”
She nodded with that bright smile of hers that I had missed in her absence. “Uh-huh! I can’t wait to see my friends.” She held out her thin arm and pointed at her hospital bracelet. “I’ll show them this.”
Oh Mia… “I’m sure they’ll all want to hear about it. But remember, only when you’re feeling up to it, okay?”
“Okay!” She beamed up at me, then turned and ran back toward her room, likely already plotting out the story she’d share.
“Thank you again for dinner tonight. It was—” Fantastic? Amazing? A glimpse at a life just outside my reach? The words caught in my throat, each one inadequate to capture the warmth inside me. “It was very special.”
I exchanged one last look with Marc—a look that said so much without words, filled with a blend of gratitude, longing, and something unspoken—before turning toward the door.
I stepped through the front door, fishing my keys out of my pocket, when they slipped from my grasp, clattering onto the porch with a metallic jingle.
“Here, let me help you with that,” Marc said from behind me, already bending down.
Our hands brushed as we both reached for the keys, the heat of his touch burning my skin through that brief contact. We straightened up together, and there he was, so close I could see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes.
Time seemed to slow as Marc’s gaze held mine, a magnetic pull drawing me closer. The air between us charged with energy. In that intense moment, my thoughts shouted warnings about boundaries, but my heart silenced them. Marc leaned in, and before I thought to pull away or even fully register what was happening, his lips brushed against mine.
The kiss was a revelation—a blend of soft longing and desperate need. Gentle, tentative but undeniably present—a question and an answer all at once. His breath mingled with mine for a fleeting moment that etched itself into my memory, this undeniable connection between us both electrifying and terrifying.
Then he stepped back abruptly, a flush creeping over his cheeks. “Ken, I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
Regretful and embarrassed, that’s how he sounded, his apology hanging in the air.
My breath hitched in my throat, the warmth of Marc’s lips still lingering as if they’d left a permanent imprint. Thoughts and emotions spun inside me, a tempest of conflicting desires and doubts. “It’s okay,” I whispered, though my mind was a whirlwind. The proximity of our bodies sent shivers down my back, and though it was wrong, hunger and longing rose within me.
I wanted this man. I wanted to pull his head back down to me, crushing our mouths together, wrapping my arms around him.
But I couldn’t. Not like this.
“I didn’t mean to cross any lines,” Marc continued, his voice low. He looked as though he was bracing for rejection, and the vulnerability in his eyes tugged at my heart.
“No lines crossed.” I swallowed hard, my mind trying to rationalize both the thrill and terror of this unexpected intimacy. “It’s just…” My voice trailed off as I searched for the right words. The intensity of my feelings threatened to overwhelm me. How could something so simple as his lips pressed against mine for a few seconds feel so profound, so life-changing?
Marc waited, his gaze never leaving mine.
“It’s complicated,” I managed to say.
He nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I said, my hand reaching up to touch his chest, the heat of his skin under that thin t-shirt blazing my fingertips. Words tumbled out before I stopped them. “I’m not sorry you kissed me, Marc. It’s the timing—it’s off.” My fingers dropped, and I held onto my car keys with both hands, a lifeline back to reality.
“Yeah, the timing…” Marc looked down, and a silence fell, loaded with all the things we weren’t saying.
I took a step back, needing space to breathe and think. “I should go,” I said, more to myself than to him.
Marc gave me a small nod. “Okay. Drive safe.”
As I walked to my car, the coolness of the night couldn’t quench the heat that had flared between us. Inside my vehicle, my hands gripped on the steering wheel as I took one last look at his silhouette standing on the porch. “Goodnight,” I called out softly, even though I knew he didn’t hear me.
The drive home was quiet except for the hum of my car on the road. Alone with my thoughts, I replayed that brief kiss over and over again in my head. Each recollection only intensified the turmoil inside me—yearning, fear, hope, and doubt all mingling in a jumbled mess.
I walked into my dark apartment, my mind racing, replaying the moment Marc’s lips met mine. It was a kiss that shouldn’t have happened, yet something I’d unknowingly been waiting for, almost expecting. Sparks of warmth from that brief embrace still lingered on my lips, refusing to fade.
Yeah, the timing was bad, but in a few months, maybe we could give it a try.
A smile quirked on my face— Marc Mendez liked me. Wanted me.
I could be patient. I could wait for that amazing man, with his strong heart and loving spirit, the best father I’d ever met.
Flipping on the light, I tossed my keys onto the small table by the door and shrugged off my jacket. The quiet of my place enveloped me, a stark comparison to the warmth and laughter that had filled Marc’s home just moments ago.
As I headed toward my bedroom, a familiar chime from my phone cut through the silence. I pulled it out, expecting a message from Stella or a reminder for tomorrow’s lesson plan. Instead, a notification from the PrivatelyYours app flashed on my screen, stopping me in my tracks, a message I hadn’t seen in months.
Magic Marco is going live soon.