25. Markus

CHAPTER 25

Markus

Carols spilled softly from the speakers as I stepped into the garden on Christmas night. The air was crisp, but the warmth of the fairy lights above wrapped everything in a golden glow, making the space feel like a scene from a holiday dream. The staff had outdone themselves—again. Blankets and pillows were scattered in clusters across the lawn for those who could sit comfortably, while nearby, rows of cushioned chairs and wheelchair-accessible seating offered a cozy spot for those needing more support. For the bedridden residents, a separate area indoors had been set up with small screens, each one positioned for easy viewing from a reclining chair or bed. Staff had gone out of their way to make sure everyone could join in the celebration, ensuring no one was left out of the magic of the evening.

I wandered closer, taking in the details. Someone had labeled the cookies “Diabetic-Friendly: Sweetened with Apple Purée,” and the popcorn was marked “Low Sodium, Low Fat.” Even the hot chocolate came with a card noting its use of unsweetened cocoa and skim milk. Thoughtful touches, every last one of them. This was what Christmas should feel like—care, community, connection.

I turned, searching the crowd instinctively. Nicholas wasn’t here yet.

I’d grown so used to his presence over the past couple of weeks, the dynamic between us shifting and deepening in ways I hadn’t expected. His smile, the way he lit up when he teased me, how his eyes softened when he looked at me—it was all new, yet it felt like I’d known it forever. He was my boy now, and I was his Daddy.

I spotted a couple of staff members chatting, a few of the elderly residents settling in with blankets, but still no sign of him. A knot of impatience formed in my chest; I was eager to see my boy. I let out a soft breath, willing myself to be patient and to relax into the festive cheer around me. He’d be here soon. And when he was, everything would feel complete.

Carl caught my eye first, his smile wide as he gestured to Mrs. Thompson. “Look at her! Told you she was spry enough to snag the best spot. That woman will elbow anyone out of her way for a good view.”

Mrs. Thompson cackled from her seat, knitting needles in hand. “Don’t you start, Carl. You’re just mad I beat you to it.”

Terri appeared at my side, handing me a cup of hot chocolate. “You’d think they were on a game show, not setting up for a movie night.”

“Competitive spirit keeps them young.” I sipped, the warmth cutting through the evening chill. My gaze drifted toward the entrance again.

Terri’s voice turned sly. “He’s coming. Relax, Doctor Daddy.”

Nearly choked on my drink. “Terri…”

She winked and walked off before I could recover.

A sudden shift in the air caught my attention, and my heart leapt before I could stop it. There, walking in through the garden entrance, was Nicholas.

His hair looked so perfect, exactly like the first day we met when he came huffing and puffing into my office, my—his—hoodie pulled low over his head, and those damn jeans that fit him just right. The glow of the fairy lights caught the sharp edge of his cheekbones as he looked around, catching sight of me. He smiled—a small thing, but it hit me straight in the chest, as if he’d just thrown me a lifeline.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to breathe. He was late—again. But damn, if he didn’t make every single second of waiting worth it.

Still, this was a work event, and while we had the freedom to be together, we couldn’t forget the professional lines we still had to walk. As much as I wanted to pull him into me, claim him in front of everyone like I’d done in the privacy of my home... I couldn’t. Not here.

I saw the glint in his eyes as he spotted me, a little challenge, a little mischief. Typical.

“Late again, huh?” I muttered under my breath, loud enough for him to hear but not so much that anyone else would catch it.

His smirk turned a shade more devious as he strode toward me, casually, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, all too aware of the power he had over me. He slowed his pace when he was near, looking around, aware of the eyes on us, the staff and the residents still gathered in their cozy spots.

But then, he did it.

He winked.

And damn it, my heart almost stopped. My hand twitched, and I had to clench it into a fist to keep myself from reaching for him. That look—he was daring me to cross a line I knew we couldn’t, not here.

I leaned in close enough that only he would hear, my voice dropping to a low growl. “You’re lucky we’re at work, Nicky. You’re testing my patience.”

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head and, with that bratty little smirk I loved so much, he said, “You know I can’t help myself. I’m just too cute for my own good.”

“Careful, brat,” I warned, my voice still quiet but the possessive edge to it unmistakable. “I might have to remind you who’s in charge if you keep making me wait.”

His lips parted as if he was going to say something, but instead, he just rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I know you love it when I keep you on your toes.”

I almost lost it right there, the playful defiance in his eyes pushing every button I had. But I couldn’t let him know just how much he affected me, not here, not with everyone watching, even though the words were right there on the tip of my tongue, begging to come out.

I smiled, forcing my hands into my pockets to keep from touching him, my thumb brushing the smoothness of my phone as if it could ground me. “Keep it up, Nicky, and you’re going to make me rethink the rule about needing to be a nice boy to stay on my good side.”

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his chin up, his voice dropping in that teasing way that made my pulse spike. “I’m already nice, Daddy. I’ve just got a little attitude.”

I chuckled, despite myself. He was too much sometimes, too damn irresistible.

A sudden burst of laughter from the crowd caught my attention, and we both turned, our conversation falling away as the film began— A Charlie Brown Christmas, the crowd’s vote over It’s a Wonderful Life , and honestly, I wasn’t surprised. But I was glad. The simplicity of it, the reminder of what really mattered—it fit the mood of the evening perfectly.

I glanced back at Nicholas, my heart still racing from that exchange. Despite all the teasing, all the bratty words, there was something in his gaze and everything that had led us to this moment that confirmed what I knew to be true: this was us. The boy, the Daddy.

I didn’t need to say another word. I just let my eyes linger on him for a beat longer, my gaze softening with everything I didn’t have to say out loud. Because, somehow, he knew.

We settled into a pair of seats near the back, close enough to feel part of the group but tucked into the shadows just enough to have a semblance of privacy. Our hands brushed as we reached for the blanket at the same time, the simple contact sending a jolt of warmth through me. I could feel the curve of his smirk without even looking.

Beneath the cover of the blanket, his fingers slid into mine, tentative at first, as though testing the waters. My chest tightened, a deep ache blooming at the gesture’s simplicity, its intimacy. I tightened my grip, threading our fingers together fully, anchoring us both in that quiet connection.

His thumb brushed against mine—a soft, fleeting stroke that was so small and yet made my pulse thrum in response. My body reacted instinctively, warmth spreading through me, settling deep in my chest. He shifted beside me, leaning ever so slightly into my side, his presence an unspoken reassurance.

This was ours—a private moment tucked away in a public space. And for once, I didn’t feel the need to hide how much it mattered.

The movie played on, but the real magic was happening all around us. Mrs. Thompson leaned over to whisper something to Carl, and they both turned to look at us with matching grins. Nicholas caught it and groaned softly, hiding his face in his hands.

Carl’s voice wasn’t remotely subtle. “Ah, young love. Reminds me of me and my Henry back in the day.”

Nicholas peeked out between his fingers, his cheeks pink. “They’re not going to let this go, are they?”

“Not a chance,” I murmured.

Terri passed by, smirking. “You two could try not looking at each other like you’ve got hearts in your eyes.”

Nicholas groaned again but didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned closer, our shoulders touching, the blanket draped over both of us.

When the movie ended and the credits rolled, conversation bubbled up among the residents as they began reminiscing about Christmases past.

Mrs. Thompson shared memories of stringing popcorn garlands with her grandkids. Carl recounted the time he and his Henry got snowed in with nothing but a fruitcake and a deck of cards. The stories were bittersweet, filled with the kind of warmth that only came with a life well-lived.

Paul, Carl’s new roommate who rarely spoke, cleared his throat. “I remember Christmas ’69,” he began, his voice gruff but steady. “We were in Nam, scared out of our minds, but one of the guys managed to sneak in a tin of cookies from his mama. We passed it around, one cookie each, and sang ‘Silent Night’ so quiet you could barely hear it over the jungle. But for those few minutes, it felt like home.”

Paul’s voice lingered in the air, and for a moment, there was a solemn, collective silence. It wasn’t heavy or sad—it was reverent, like the kind of quiet that settled over a room when something deeply personal and beautiful was shared.

Mrs. Thompson finally broke it, her voice warm and a little watery. “Well, Paul, I’d say you’ve outdone us all tonight.”

Carl chuckled, slapping Paul lightly on the back. “Agreed. That’s one for the books.”

Moments like this reminded me why I loved this town, this place, these people.

Mr. Gaines asked about Beverly. “She’s come out of the coma and she’s recovering slowly,” I told him. “The doctors said she’ll need to stay in the hospital a while longer, though.”

The group erupted in cheers, a collective whoop of joy that made me smile. Mrs. Thompson clapped her hands together. “Oh, that woman. She’ll be back to her old self in no time, bossing us all around. You’ll see—next year, she’ll be running the show.”

Nicholas smiled. “She’s got a lot of fight in her,” he said quietly.

As the last of the residents and staff drifted inside, the fairy lights above seemed to twinkle just a bit brighter against the crisp night sky. Nicholas and I stayed behind, the stillness wrapping around us like the blanket we shared.

“Stay a little longer?” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but it came out that way anyway.

He nodded, settling back into his seat. “I could get used to this.”

I turned toward him, the weight of the night pressing gently against my chest. “What? Lights and blankets?”

“You,” he said quietly. “This. Us. The thought of many Christmases to come. This is the first Christmas in a long time that didn’t feel… heavy.”

“This has to be one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had.”

He turned to me, making my chest tighten at the raw honesty in his voice. “Even with all the chaos leading up to it?”

“Especially because of it.” I met his gaze, hoping he’d see the honesty reflected in my eyes.

His hands squeezed mine gently. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.” His voice was almost shy.

I smiled, brushing my thumb over his knuckles. “Merry Christmas, my bratty boy.”

And as we continued to sit there, I knew with every part of me that this Christmas, this beautiful thing between me and my boy, was only the beginning.