by Parker, Ali
I took the minute to look around the break room and get my bearings.
There was a stove, oven, microwave, and fridge. A full kitchen. The countertops were mint green and straight out of the eighties, and the cupboards were faded pine with little round white knobs for handles. It wasn’t aesthetically pleasing in the slightest, but it did the trick.
The gray carpet underfoot was clean and smelled new. Six round tables filled the room, and there was a set of sofas the same color as the countertops against the far wall facing an old television set running a news station with the sound off.
It was the same as almost every teacher break room I’d ever been in. Simple, practical, and horribly decorated.
Jace led me out of the break room and back out into the hallway. We hooked a right and went to the end of the hall, where a set of double doors led out onto the football field out back. It was ringed with a running track, and there were already teachers out on the field laying down cones for whatever activities they had planned for today.
My steps were quick as I kept up with Jace’s long strides after he forked a left in front of the doors. This path led down another hallway, this one not graced with a glass ceiling. To the left was a multipurpose room.
“This is where the drama kids like to hang out. The school has some pretty talented kids in dance and theater classes. You should check out some of the shows. They’re pretty fun and impressive for high school productions.”
“I will most definitely do that,” I said. “Are they kid friendly?”
Jace grinned. “Yes, you can bring Linden. He’d probably have a blast. Pretty sure this year’s show is Alice in Wonderland.”
We took another left-hand turn and came to an abrupt stop. Jace tugged open the classroom door in front of us and gestured dramatically for me to go in ahead of him. “And this is it, my lady. Your domain for the rest of the school year.”
My heart thundered in my chest, and my palms tingled. I stepped into the classroom, breathed in the smells of dry-erase markers, pencils, paper, and ink, and soaked in the sight of my new home.
“This will do just fine,” I said. The tingling in my palms passed, and the storm in my gut stilled.
The classroom was big and nicely lit. There were three windows on the far wall that surprised me because as we walked through the maze of hallways, I’d concluded my classroom was an interior one and would therefore have no natural daylight, but there was a courtyard on the other side of the windows. It was full of benches, and right smack in the middle was an old fountain that I imagined at some point or another actually ran. Now it was dry.
But it didn’t matter.
I had a big room with new desks and chairs, plenty of storage space, and natural light.
I couldn’t ask for much more than that.
Jace stepped up beside me and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not bad, huh?”
“It’s perfect.”
I could feel his eyes on me. He drew a breath and let it out slowly. “Just let me know if you need anything, all right? My classroom is back in the main hallway. Pretty much across from the break room.”
My working conditions just kept getting better and better.
Chapter 11
Jace
I sighed and kicked my heels up onto one of the chairs in the break room. John was behind me, leaning against the counter while his leftover spaghetti turned in lazy circles inside the microwave that smelled like burnt popcorn.
“What are you sighing about?” he asked, prodding me in the back of the neck.
I massaged the spot where he’d poked me as I craned my neck to look up at him. “Nothing. Just tired is all.”
“Stay up too late fantasizing about Ms. West?”
“No,” I said defensively.
The microwave beeped. John popped it open, retrieved his microwave safe container, and dropped into the seat across from me. Steam poured out of the Tupperware when he peeled off the lid and carried the rich scent of tomatoes and spices up toward the ceiling. He inhaled deeply and wafted the steam to his nose. “My wife was a chef in another life. I swear.” He picked up his fork and looked up at me. “So why are you so tired then?”
“Paxton had a nightmare.”
“Ah,” John said knowingly. “What was it this time?”
“Crocodiles.”
“What?”
I nodded. “You heard me. Crocodiles.”
John’s lips angled down in a half frown, half smirk. “Weird kid, that boy of yours. What were the alligators in this dream of his doing?”
“Crocodiles.”
“What?”
“They were crocs, not alligators.”
“Oh. Right. Same shit.”
“Not really,” I mused.
“So get on with it. What was happening in this nightmare of his?”
“They were eating me.”
John blinked with his lips pursed in an “O” as he blew on the spaghetti coiled around his fork. “Damn. All right. That’s some scary shit for a four-year-old.”
I ran my hand down my face as I recalled Paxton screaming for me in the middle of the night. It was the worst sound to wake up to. Any parent can relate to sitting bolt upright in bed, heart racing like it might give out at any time. He’d screamed and screamed until I was there, holding him and telling him over and over that I had him and he was okay.
“It took him twenty minutes to tell me what the dream was about,” I said. “Poor guy.”
“I guess you can’t ever take him to Florida.”
I glared at John. “Ha. Ha.”
John laughed. “Don’t be so glum. Things are about to look up for you today.”
“Oh, what makes you say that?”
John didn’t answer. Instead, he looked over my shoulder. I was about to turn to see what he was looking at but didn’t have to. Emelia arrived and pulled out the seat beside me. She was dressed in her usual teaching attire: jeans, tennis shoes, gray T-shirt, and black blazer. She shrugged out of the blazer and draped it on the back of the chair. “Gentlemen.”
“Hey,” John and I said in unison.
Emelia leaned forward on the table and looked back and forth between us. “Have either of you ever had Kyle Edwards in your class?”
John snorted. “Yep. Until I gave him the boot.”
Emelia looked imploringly at me. “And you?”
I nodded. “Yeah. He’s a handful. You having trouble?”
She sighed and raked her fingers through her ashy-blonde hair. It fell right back in front of her eyes, and she shook it away from her face impatiently. “Yes. He’s disruptive. All he wants to do is sit on his phone so he can find memes to show the other students. Students who, might I add, are actually enjoying my lessons and the criteria. He’s a barbarian.”
I arched an eyebrow. “A barbarian?”
“He has no appreciation for history at all. Or for education in general. His self-awareness is abysmal, and he’s negatively impacting the kids around him.”
John and I stared evenly at her.
“What?” she asked, brow furrowed.
“He’s a teenager,” I said flatly.
“So?” she said.
“A teenage boy,” John clarified.
Emelia’s face tensed with exasperation as she looked back and forth between us. “And? What should that matter?”
“It’s not that it matters. You just have to adjust your expectations.” John put the lid back on his empty lunch container and leaned back in his seat to pat his belly. “Kids like Kyle won’t ever get all googoo eyed for history. It just won’t happen. But maybe you can catch his interest in certain subjects.”
“Any suggestions?” she asked.
John shrugged. “Nope. I teach gym. This is your mission, should you choose to accept it.” He pushed himself up from the table. “I have to go. My next block is doing circuit training. I like to have it set up before they get there. Otherwise, the lazy little bastards will take forever to get it
done. Not on my watch!”
I waved him off, and John sauntered out of the break room.
Emelia still had a look of puzzled frustration on her face.
“You’ve only been here three days,” I reminded her. “Give Kyle some time to warm up to you. He’s a good kid. He just doesn’t know how to be anything but disruptive.”
She sighed and rubbed at her temples. “Yeah. You’re right. Maybe I’m trying to take on too much all at once. Baby steps, right?”
“Right. Other than Kyle, how are things going?”
Her expression lifted a bit, and the creases in her forehead vanished. “Good. Really good. The entire faculty has been so nice and welcoming. And it’s easier now that the school doesn’t feel like such a maze to me and I know where I’m going. I like it here. For sure.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Emelia gave me a tight-lipped smile. Then she pressed her hands flat to the table to push herself up. “I’m going to make a pot of coffee. Want some?”
“Sure,” I said, and I followed her over to the kitchen counter, where she pulled a coffee filter out of the drawer and went about brewing a pot. She paused before she put the water in to call around the room if anyone else wanted coffee. There were two takers, both science teachers, and Emelia added more water to the pot.
I leaned one hip against the counter. “Have you seen the signs for the school dance coming up this weekend?”
She nodded. “Yes. Talk about nostalgia.”
“I think they’re still short on chaperones. I’m going. If you’re looking for a fun night to poke fun at hormonal teenagers dancing a foot apart, you should tag along. It’ll give you a chance to see some of the kids out of the classroom setting.”
She studied me for a quiet couple seconds. “That could be fun. I’ll have to see if I can get a sitter first.”
I’d already arranged for Marie to come over to my place to watch Paxton for the night. Bruce wasn’t available because he was out of town this week for an annual fishing trip, but Marie was the next best thing. It had taken a little while for Paxton to come around to her, but now he was almost looking forward to their night together.
I wondered how Paxton would feel if Emelia’s son was there, too.
If I asked him, he’d tell me no, he didn’t want Linden there. But that was because my son loved his comfort zone, and he hated anything that could come along and disrupt it. I understood that. But constantly catering to that felt like enabling, and at some point or another, I was going to have to give him a push to socialize at least a little.
This felt like a good opportunity. He had Marie, the safety and comfort of his own home, and it would only be a few hours.
I ran my thumb along my jaw. “Marie is watching Paxton that night. Why don’t you drop Linden off at my place, and you and I can head to the dance together?”
Emelia cocked her head to the side. “Sounds like a date.”
“Could be.”
She giggled softly. “I’ll talk to Linden tonight. If he’s all right with it, count me in.”
“Excellent.”
“Do I have to sign up somewhere to be a chaperone?”
“Let me know tomorrow if you can make it, and I’ll add you to the list.”
Emelia watched the coffee drip. “Perfect. Maybe this is Linden’s chance to make a new friend.”
“He’s not making any at school?”
Emelia shrugged and pushed some of her hair off her forehead. Then she put her back to the coffee pot and leaned against the counter beside me, crossing her arms over her chest. “He’s a social butterfly, but he hasn’t connected with any of the kids in his school yet. I know it takes time. But as a parent, you want it to happen right away for them, you know?”
I nodded. “Oh yeah. I hear you. Paxton is shy as a mouse. Maybe hanging out with Linden will break him out of his shell a little bit.”
“We can hope, right?”
“Indeed.”
Chapter 12
Emelia
Linden shimmied closer to the edge of his chair at the kitchen table. He pushed his cut-up chicken around on his plate before deciding he would devour his mashed potatoes first. I watched as he dragged it through gravy before loading a massive bite into his mouth.
“Take it easy there, champ,” I cautioned.
Linden blinked at me. He couldn’t respond due to his overstuffed mouth, but he smiled, and little bits of mashed potato crept out of the corners of his mouth.
I laughed. “Gross. Swallow your food.”
Linden chewed, swallowed, and washed it down with a great gulp of orange juice, his favorite beverage since he was old enough to say, owange joose. “Do you think Paxton will have video games?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to wait and find out. Maybe not.”
“Does he like science?”
“I’m not sure,” I said again, smiling as Linden frowned down at his plate. “But don’t worry, Linden. I’m positive he’s a very nice boy. I just think it might take some time for him to get used to you being there. He’s very shy.”
“Like Ruby?”
Ruby was Linden’s third cousin. He’d only met her a handful of times at big family events in Atlanta, and every time he saw her, it took her a good hour to come around to him.
I nodded. “Yes. Like Ruby. You remember how you treated her?”
“Calm,” he said.
My son was such a smart, sweet boy. “Yes. Calm. If you give Paxton the time and space to get used to you, I’m sure you’ll be friends by the end of the night. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Linden nodded before stuffing more potatoes in his mouth. “Yesh.”
When our plates were empty (and nearly licked clean), I took them to the sink to rinse them off. Linden went to his room to grab his bag I’d packed with his pajamas and his favorite stuffed teddy bear, Sam. It was a ragtag looking little thing. It used to be blue, but years of being dropped in puddles and thrown through the washing machine had faded him to a pale mint green color. His eyes were pure black but pretty scratched up, and one of his ears had been torn clean off last summer.
Linden met me back in the kitchen and told me he was ready to go.
“All right, champ. Let’s hit the road.”
Jace didn’t live very far from Linden and me. It was only about a seven-minute drive, and the taxi driver said we’d reached our destination as we turned into a double-wide freshly paved driveway and parked. I paid the driver as Linden shuffled out of the back seat. Then I met him on the driveway, took his hand, and walked him away from the cab as the driver reversed back out onto the street.
“Nice house,” Linden said.
He wasn’t wrong.
Jace’s home was definitely bigger than the little rancher I was renting. It was one story, like most homes in this town aside from the very wealthy ones in the new gated communities a good ten miles in the other direction.
The house was a light cream color with white trim and a red front door. There were three steps leading up to a small terrace at the door, and it would have been a lovely place to put some planters and a nice welcome mat. There was none of that. The front door was bare, and the gardens were full of smooth gray rocks.
It was definitely the home of a single man.
I smiled to myself as Linden and I walked up to the front door. Jace had more on his plate to worry about than flowers and making the outside of his house nicer. As it was, it was clean, probably freshly pressure washed this summer, and in good shape. The roof looked pretty new, and the driveway was most certainly new.
All that was missing was a little feminine touch.
I raised my hand to knock on the red door, but it swung open. Marie stood there, a smile stretching her cheeks, and she looked back and forth between Linden and me. “Hey there.”
“Hi,” I said, putting a hand lightly on Linden’s back. “Linden, do you remember Auntie Marie? She and Uncle John came to visit us last fall in Atla
nta.”
Linden nodded. “I remember. Hi, Auntie Marie.”
Marie went into a crouch. “It’s very nice to see you again, Linden. I think you, me, and Paxton are going to have a very good night while your mom and Paxton’s dad go to work. What do you think?”
Linden looked up at me. I motioned for him to go ahead and answer her. He licked his lips and turned his attention back to my best friend. “Sounds good to me.”
Marie giggled and straightened back up. “Good answer. Come on in, you two. Jace is just finishing getting ready.”
I arched an eyebrow as I stepped over the threshold. “Never had to wait on a man before.”
Marie snickered. “Yes, well, Jace isn’t like most, is he?”
“No,” I muttered under my breath. The house smelled like cinnamon, cloves, and citrus. It was clean—freakishly clean—and there were men’s-sized clothes and child’s clothes hanging on a series of hooks on the wall beside the door. “He’s not.”
This place might not look homey from the outside, but it certainly was on the inside. There was a dark red carpet running down the hall. Open archways led to several rooms from the hallway: the living room first, then the dining room, followed by the bedrooms and then the kitchen at the back of the house. The walls were a warm gray tone, and lights mounted on the wall lit the hall up nicely.
Jace rounded the corner into the hallway from what I assumed was his bedroom, straightening his tie as he came toward us. “Hey. Sorry, running a bit behind. Just give me two minutes. Marie, where’s Paxton?”
Marie nodded to the doorway across the hall from where he’d just emerged. “In his room.”
Jace sighed. “All right.” Then his eyes flicked to Linden.
My breath caught in my throat. Was he going to see some of himself in our son? Was he going to realize how perfectly his age lined up with our one-night whirlwind romance all those years ago? Was he going to be suspicious at all?
Jace took a knee in front of Linden and held out his hand. “You must be Linden. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you. Thank you for coming over tonight.”
