Chapter Two

“MR. MCKENZIE,can we read How to Catch a Unicorn for story time tomorrow?”

Dylan looked down at the little girl wearing a sparkly unicorn T-shirt. Emily was going through a serious unicorn phase right now and requested the same book every day.

One of the boys slapped his forehead with an exaggerated moan and grumbled, “Again.”

Dylan sympathized. They’d already read How to Catch a Unicorn several times. If he didn’t navigate the situation carefully, an all-out war was going to break out between the pro-unicorn kids and the rest of the class.

“Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?” he asked.

Emily nodded with a solemn expression.

“It’s nice to give new things a try, right?” he asked, and his class all nodded. “We’re going to read other unicorn books and dinosaur books. I’ve got books picked out that I think each one of you will enjoy, and you might even discover something new that you didn’t know you liked.” He leaned forward and said in a loud whisper directed at Emily, “There might even be a book with a unicorn that’s friends with a dinosaur and a shark.” Two of his other students sat up, their eyes sparkling with excitement. Dylan stood up and clapped his hands. “Okay, everyone, it’s cleanup time. We have ten minutes before the bell rings.”

Ten minutes passed in a flurry of desks being cleaned, lunch boxes collected, and backpacks packed.

He ushered his students out the door to their buses and waiting parents, sending each student off with high fives, hugs, and waves.

Alexis, his fellow second-grade teacher, sidled up next to him, waving to her departing students with a huge grin while she said out of the corner of her mouth, “We’re in the home stretch. Only six more weeks.”

“You’re antsy since you’ll be lying on a beach in Mexico.”

“Don’t forget the margarita part. That’s important. Two weeks of lying on a beach doing absolutely nothing,” she said with a sigh of contentment.

“Are you sure about that? You know your husband is adventure boy. How many parasailing and zip-linings has he booked?”

“We came to an agreement after Costa Rica. I get to lie on the beach, and he gets to go do all that other stuff,” Alexis said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “What about you? What are your plans for the summer?”

Dylan shrugged. “Nothing specific. Hanging out, maybe take surfing lessons.”

“One of Dan’s buddies at the firehouse is into surfing, and he’s super cute too,” Alexis said, waggling her eyebrows, her dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Maybe.”

Firefighter super dude? It didn’t exactly sound like his type, but after an extended dry streak, he was open to the possibilities.

Alexis looked at her watch. “Ooh, gotta go. Drinks tomorrow night?” she called out over her shoulder.

“Yup, I’ll be there.”

Alexis might talk about lying on the beach doing nothing, but Dylan knew she was as energetic as her firefighter husband. She was a ball of energy packed into a curvy five-foot frame. They’d bonded on their first day as new teachers and as mixed kids: Dylan half Black and half White, Alexis half Mexican and half White. But unlike Dylan, Alexis came from a big family who loved unconditionally.

Dylan collected his jacket and messenger bag from his classroom. As he headed toward his car, he waved to the kids still on the playground for after-school care. He often stayed behind with them, volunteering to provide tutoring for kids who needed extra help. It was important to him to pay it forward and provide the kind of loving learning environment he’d benefited from. Dylan did his best to follow in the footsteps of the one teacher who’d changed his life, the teacher who was there for Dylan on his darkest day. Mr. Cooper had given him the support and guidance that allowed him the chance to have his own classroom.

It was Mr. Cooper who found him in the school library after the last bell the day his parents kicked him out. He’d gone to the library because he didn’t know where else to go. Everything Dylan owned was in a duffel bag resting at his feet. Mr. Cooper—Kevin—and his husband, Carl, took him in, helped him become an emancipated minor, and became the parents he chose. It wasn’t easy in his Kentucky hometown. Football, faith, and God were the only things that mattered. It helped that Kevin and Carl lived in the next town over, which was a little more tolerant of a gay couple. Dylan didn’t go back to the school where his dad coached football and his sister was the queen bee of the cheerleading squad. Instead, he elected to finish high school online while attending community college at the same time.

Kevin and Carl didn’t just take him in, they also provided a safe space where he could explore his own sexuality. Even though he hadn’t been ready to tell anyone, his parents found his journal. The football coach couldn’t have a gay son, and his mother wasn’t willing to risk her position as head of every committee in their church. And that whole thing about twins having a special bond? Dylan would argue with any sociologist that was bullshit. He and his sister Lindsay may have been born a few minutes apart, but sharing a crib in the hospital was the only time they were ever close. When they found his journal, his parents gave him two options: conversion therapy or get out. He left.

His parents told people he ran away. Apparently that wasn’t enough. Dylan’s parents wanted to make sure he completely disappeared. He learned later that they’d added to the story, saying he’d died of an overdose. What was the point of disputing the lie? Kevin tried to refute it for him, but no one in their small town was going to believe Dylan’s parents were anything but upstanding members of the community. The truth was in some ways it was easier for Dylan to go along with the lie and disappear. He never wanted to go back to that small town filled with people who had small minds. He might never find a place that truly felt like home, but Dylan knew that place would not be his childhood home. Dylan got to disappear, Arlene and Clay got to play the role of worried parents who tried and failed to keep their son from a life of sin to the hilt. And Lindsay became the tragic sister who lost her twin and was indulged and pampered even more as a result.

Dylan drove a few miles from his school to the Venice High School parking lot and parked. Switching his messenger bag for a small duffel bag, he headed toward the pool, flashing his membership card as he went inside. He emerged from the dressing room a few minutes later in a pair of tight, dark burgundy swim briefs. Stopping at the edge of the pool, he adjusted his goggles and swung his arms in a circle a few times before he dove in. With steady strokes, he sliced through the cool water. Most of his life with his family consisted of being criticized for his lack of athleticism. It wasn’t that he didn’t like sports; he didn’t like the right kind, according to his father. He’d loved swimming. Carl encouraged his love of water and introduced him to kayaking. The summers he spent camping and kayaking with Kevin and Carl helped him understand there were no right or wrong activities for a man. When he moved to LA after college, one of the first things he did was seek a public pool where he could swim laps. Not only did swimming keep him in shape, but it acted as therapy for him. The steady rhythm of kicks and strokes soothed him, especially on days when he allowed himself to think about his past. Dylan wasn’t the muscle-bound jock his father wanted him to be, but he’d developed a toned physique. The California sun added a golden hue to his light brown skin and a smattering of pale freckles across his nose.

When his arms turned to jelly, he hauled himself out of the pool and rested on the edge for a minute to catch his breath.

“Good form, Dylan,” the lifeguard called from the tower. “You sure you don’t want to join the swim team?”

Dylan peeled off his goggles and squinted up at the man with a mop of curly blond hair, sitting in the lifeguard seat. “Nah, I’m good.”

As much as he loved to swim, Dylan hated competition. Another strike against him from his father’s point of view.

“Any other team you’d like to join?” the lifeguard called out with a cheeky wink.

He laughed, shaking his head. The same lifeguard had been hitting on him since he joined the pool. He was cute, with dimples to go along with his charming smile and sparkly blue eyes. But two bottoms did not make a top or a lasting relationship, and Dylan wasn’t interested in fooling around just for the sake of fooling around.

“No thanks,” he replied in a singsong voice.

The lifeguard threw his head back with a hearty laugh.

Even though he walked to the dressing room on tired, shaky legs, Dylan felt good. The tension released, his body was loose and relaxed. He was hungry from the exercise, though, and as he jogged up the stairs to his tiny one-bedroom apartment, his stomach growled.

The apartment wasn’t fancy, but it had been remodeled, and he kept it tidy, with no crosses on the walls or football trophies on the shelves. Instead, a paddleboard stood propped against the wall next to a coatrack by the front door. Several carefully chosen pieces of vintage furniture were scattered around, and a large Persian rug in shades of cream and blue anchored the space. Leftover chicken and rice with green beans waited for him in the refrigerator. While he warmed his dinner in the microwave, he unpacked his lunch bag, rinsing out the containers to be refilled in the morning.

Instead of a dining room table, Dylan opted for a desk in the small nook of the kitchen. He didn’t entertain that much, though not because he didn’t have friends. Since he moved to LA, he’d gathered a small but close group of friends. He’d never been a big party guy. His club years were brief, a couple of years in college. Small dinners, movies, and game nights were more his style.

He liked his solitude. Even as a child, when his sister was out playing with the other neighborhood kids, Dylan preferred to read in the tree house his dad built in the backyard. He wondered if the tree house was still there. He didn’t look for news about his parents and sister. It opened old wounds he wanted to keep closed. Dylan heard Lindsay got married right out of college, and that was about it. After his parents kicked him to the curb, no one reached out to him—no aunts, uncles, or cousins. His family would rather maintain their illusion of perfection, which looked like one of those holiday movies on a family-friendly network. His last connection to his hometown was Kevin. Kevin and Carl moved to Providence, Rhode Island, right after Dylan graduated, cutting any lingering connections.

Being rejected by his family hurt. But he was happier now. He had a good life with friends and chosen family. Accepting his parents’ demands would have destroyed him. Conversion therapy would have hurt much more than losing his family did.

He ate his dinner at his desk while he reviewed his lesson plans for the rest of the year. There were less than two months left and he knew those would fly by with end of year projects and standardized tests. Dylan was already dreaming of summer hikes and camping trips.

He cozied up under the covers with his current read—a male-male romance set on Vancouver Island where a ranger rescues a lost hiker. Dylan sighed, burrowing deeper under the covers when the characters shared their first kiss. His friends teased he was a hopeless romantic, with his collection of romances that ranged from Jane Austen to Damon Suede. They didn’t understand that he clung to his favorite genre because each story was about hope and a happily ever after. Holding on to those two things helped him get to where he was now. The hope that things would get better—and they did—and the dream that he’d have his own happily-ever-after someday. That one was a little harder to believe in, so he read about fictional ever afters, the kind he wanted but secretly feared he might never have.