Chapter 4

GREGORY MANAGED to get Weston and Marnie home after dropping Fillian back at his car in the park. Marnie was in her bed sleeping while Weston played Legos on the living room floor. Gregory sat at the table just outside the kitchen area in their apartment. Somehow he’d been lucky enough to find a two-bedroom unit with a room that had once been a closet that he was able to make up for Weston. There wasn’t a lot of space for anything other than his twin bed, a small dresser, and a lamp, but it would do for now. He had lined the walls with shelves about a foot down from the ceiling, where they kept things that Weston wanted to display. If Weston wanted to play with them, then Gregory had to get them down, but so far it seemed to work. What he really needed was for his business to pick up so he could afford a more permanent home.

“Daddy,” Marnie called, and he went into her room, which wasn’t much bigger than Weston’s. “I’m thirsty.” He got her a glass of water, and she sat up, took a few sips, and lay back down again.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be right out in the other room. Just rest and don’t worry.”

“Is Mr. Fillian here? He saved me and knew what to do,” she said softly.

“Not right now. He said he was going to get us something to eat.” Gregory had told him that wasn’t necessary. “I’ll come get you when he returns. I promise.” Gregory didn’t know what he had thought Fillian would be like as an adult. He hadn’t thought too much about him over the years. But he was different from the kid Gregory had known, or at least the one he’d made assumptions about.

“Okay.” She closed her eyes, and Gregory pulled up the covers before quietly leaving the room. Weston had finished up what looked like a dinosaur and was making a few buildings for it to stomp.

Light footsteps on the stairs were the first indication that Fillian was back. Gregory met him at the door, but when he opened it, he was surprised to find his mother on the other side. “I wasn’t expecting you,” he said and stepped back so she could come inside.

“Grandma,” Weston called, jumping up. He hurried over and hugged her legs. She lightly patted Weston’s head before kneeling down for a proper hug.

“Where’s Marnie?” she asked, looking around the room with the intensity of a lighthouse beam. Mom never missed anything.

“She isn’t feeling well, so she’s lying down,” Gregory told her levelly. “Is there something I can do for you?” He checked his watch. “Aren’t you heading out to a meeting or something?” He had asked her to sit with the kids, but she’d been too busy.

“I have to go meet with the Civic Ladies Association to talk about how to make Carlisle a better place to live. Charles’s mother was a member of the group, so an old friend of his family sponsored me as a member.” She stood straighter, as though membership was something he should be impressed about. A year after his parents divorced, his mother married Charles Haber. He was a leading citizen in town and had enough money to buy half of it. Charles was a nice enough man, but he spent a lot of his time traveling, often for weeks at a time, and wasn’t particularly interested in his step-grandchildren.

“That’s very good, Mother.” He figured their meeting was more of a social gathering. “You don’t want to be late.”

She checked the time herself. “I just wanted to see Weston and Marnie since I was in town, so I thought I’d stop by.” She plastered on a smile and went into Marnie’s bedroom, where she spoke with her for a few minutes before sweeping back through the living room to the door. “This place is so… small. You really should try to get a place more… suitable.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what Arthur and Stephanie were thinking.” She seemed to be starting one of her usual rants about their will and naming him as guardian of the kids. It was a sore spot that she never seemed to be able to let go of. “I’m sure they never thought of their children living in a hovel.” She pulled open the door to find Fillian standing in the doorway, transferring a white bag to his left hand, probably so he could knock.

“Mrs. Montrose?” Fillian asked with a slight smile.

She looked at Fillian as though she were trying to place him. “It’s Haber now, and I don’t think I know you.” She was already heading out the door and down the stairs as Fillian followed her with his gaze.

“Wow,” he mouthed once he came inside, careful not to say anything in front of Weston, which Gregory was grateful for. His mother had always been distant where he was concerned, not that she had been all that different toward Arthur, except for allowing him more freedom to choose the things he wanted to do. Gregory’s activities were planned out for him based on what his older brother had already chosen. Many times he had followed in Arthur’s footsteps. Soccer and swimming came to mind. He was signed up and carted off to camps and after-school activities right next to Arthur without ever being asked if he was interested. It had quickly become evident, however, that in soccer he excelled, whereas in the pool, he could swim, but not with the speed needed for competition. Gregory pulled his attention away from his mother’s behavior and shook his head to get rid of her lingering presence.

“Daddy,” Marnie said as she came into the room in her pajamas, holding a doll under her arm. “I’m sorry.” She sniffed, and Gregory lifted his best girl into his arms while Fillian set out the food he’d brought.

“It happens. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He hugged her exaggeratedly and planted a kiss on her cheek. “In the future, don’t eat berries until you find out what they are, okay?” His heart rate sped up just thinking about what could have happened, and he turned to Fillian with a grateful smile, wondering what he would have done if he hadn’t been there. Fillian, with his warm eyes and soft smile. The guy he had lived next door to all those years growing up and had never known… or, honestly, taken the time to get to know. He liked to think that they could have become friends. “Do you want a little apple juice and a piece of toast?”

She nodded, and Gregory set her on a sofa that had seen better days and got a light blanket for her. Then he set about making the toast and poured her a glass of apple juice to help ease her abused tummy. Weston went back to his Legos, too busy playing to eat, and Fillian sat down with him to make something.

“Did you have these as a kid?” Fillian asked. “I used to love them.” As Gregory brought the juice, he saw Fillian and Weston share a smile as they continued building.

“Those are them,” Gregory said. “Mom was a whirlwind when it came to old toys. If we didn’t play with them, she would toss them out.” Fillian turned toward him, his eyes clouding over for a second, cheeks pinking up a little. The unreadable expression lasted just a few seconds, and then Gregory wasn’t sure if it had been there at all. “I had Lego building sets and models that I put together and displayed in my room. One day I came home to Mom looking them over. I knew what that meant, so I hid all of them in a box in the very back of my closet. It went under the stairs, and my clothes made a curtain of sorts, so what I put back there, Mom didn’t know about.” He grinned. “Over the years, the models came apart, and I put all the pieces in the bag, along with the regular building sets that I had.” And at that moment, Fillian and Weston were using those very blocks to have a Lego dinosaur battle. If he still missed his old toys, it definitely wasn’t at moments like this.

The toaster popped, and Gregory pulled out the toast, buttered it, and added a little cinnamon sugar before cutting it into quarters and bringing it to Marnie. He sat next to her, holding her gently in one arm, watching to make sure she seemed okay while she ate.

For a second, Gregory closed his eyes and let himself dream a little. This was what he had always wanted: a family of his own. Gregory remembered Arthur and him sitting on the bleachers during swim practice when it was someone else’s turn in the pool. They always said that they were going to do things differently than their mom and dad, that they were going to have real families, not the “push their kids off on anyone or anything around” families.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Fillian said. “Maybe I should leave you alone with them. I don’t want to butt in.”

Gregory shook his head. “Sorry. I was just thinking, I guess.” He was very grateful to Fillian. Marnie had eaten half her toast and set the plate on the table. She sipped her juice and yawned, so Gregory encouraged her to drink the rest of her juice and carried her back to bed. He returned a few minutes later, and Fillian sat next to him on the sofa.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there,” Gregory said, trying not to think about all the things going through his mind. The past few weeks had been a roller coaster, and…. “What are you doing, Weston?” he asked, realizing that Weston was at the window looking out over the street below.

“Watching the man. He was at the park too.” Weston scowled before turning back to the window.

Gregory got up, and Weston backed away from the window. Gregory peered out as shards of ice went up his back. “What the hell?” he muttered.

“Bad word, Daddy. Mama always said not to use bad words. Papa did anyway sometimes,” Weston added.

“I know.” But this was definitely an exception. He motioned to Fillian. “That’s the crazy guy.” Gregory had done his best to try to put the incident at the hoarder house behind him. The guy was in jail, or so he thought. Dammit, he was crazy… and they had let him out? What the hell?

Fillian tensed. “Back away from the window.” He stood to the side and carefully looked out, then shook his head. “There’s no one there now, but you’re sure it was him?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Gregory still saw him each and every night in his dreams, so just seeing him from a distance sent a shiver up his spine. “Did you see him in the park?” Gregory asked Weston, who nodded seriously.

“He was creepy,” Weston said. “I saw him watching Marnie and me for a little while, but mostly he watched Daddy.” He blinked. “Is he a murder man?”

Gregory stopped dead still, wondering where that term came from, but it was Fillian who answered. “No. He’s someone who is watching, and that means you need to watch for him. If you see him again, be sure to tell your daddy.”

“Or you?” Weston asked.

Fillian nodded. “Yes. But don’t wait until you see me. Tell your daddy, me, a teacher, or anyone you trust right away.” Dang, Fillian sure knew how to handle something like this. “Your daddy can call me, and I’ll be over to help. This isn’t something for you to worry about, though. Your daddy and I know what to do.” Gregory appreciated that Fillian was trying to keep Weston calm.

Weston nodded. “I’m hungry.” Clearly that was more important to him, which was a relief. He didn’t want Weston looking over his shoulder all the time.

“What do you want?”

“Macaroni and cheese. The box kind. Grandma made some the last time we were there, and it was really yucky. She said it was blue cheese macaroni, but it was awful, and it wasn’t really blue.” He stuck out his tongue. Gregory couldn’t blame him. That really did sound bad, especially since his mother was no cook, and God knows how she had made the stuff.

“Can I make you some of the kind I made last time?” Gregory asked. Weston thought about it and nodded, so Gregory got to work cooking the mac and putting together the cheese sauce while Fillian and Weston returned to their Lego dinosaur battle.

“ARE THEY both asleep?” Fillian asked when Gregory came back out to the living room.

“Yes. Marnie is feeling better. Weston is happy, and I think I’ve been through the wringer.” He sat down, sighed, and closed his eyes. “I really don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t seen her and known what to do.”

Fillian patted his leg. “You would have called for help. The berries made Marnie feel bad, but they weren’t poisonous, which is good, and it taught her a lesson.”

Gregory nodded. “But my mother is going to make a big deal out of this. I don’t know when or how, but she will bring it up when she wants to use guilt to try to get something.” He didn’t quite know how to explain it to Fillian. “I know I had a lot of things growing up, but that was all I had. My mother was never much of a mom, and she likes things the way she wants them and expects them to be that way.” The worst thing was that there was nothing he could do about it except try not to let it bother him.

“You’re a good dad, and those kids adore you. That’s all you need to worry about. I had great parents, and while we didn’t have a lot, they were always there for me, and they still are. So I can tell you that I know what makes a great parent because I was blessed enough to have them, and you fall into that category.”

Gregory swallowed hard. “Do you really think so?” It was sometimes really hard when the people who were supposed to be his role models were more like “don’t do this” models. He turned toward Fillian and found those warm eyes looking back, drawing him closer.

Damn, he wanted to bask in what they seemed to be offering, but he wasn’t sure he had time for anything more than friendship. The heat in Fillian’s eyes and the way he licked his lips were so damned enticing. The chills from earlier completely melted away under that gaze, but Gregory had to be strong and think of Weston and Marnie. Their needs had to come first. Taking care of them and making a living took all of his energy, and he wasn’t sure he could begin anything else, no matter how much he might want to. His throat went dry. The pipes that carried the steam that heated the building in the winter tinked softly, even though the system had been shut off for some time. Time seemed to slow down as Fillian gradually drew closer.

Gregory’s heart beat so hard and loud he was sure Fillian could hear it. Part of him said to pull away, but the building fire in that gaze… for him… held Gregory still. Fillian slid his hand gently around Gregory’s neck, the heat from his touch going deep. Gregory held his breath, wondering if this was a good idea.

“Daddy,” Weston called out. Fillian’s touch slipped away, and Gregory turned to where Weston stood in his bedroom door, holding a stuffed turtle to his chest.

“What is it, buddy?” Gregory asked, standing up.

“I’m thirsty, and my tummy wants a cookie,” Weston said.

“Me too,” Marnie added as she joined her brother.

“Okay, but after you’re done, you need to go right back to bed.” He sighed and went into the kitchen, where he poured two small glasses of milk and got a couple of cookies out of the cupboard. He sat the kids at the table with small plates and let them have their snack.

He turned back to Fillian, who had stood as well. “I should get home. I have to work early tomorrow morning. But you need to call me if you see anything, okay?”

“Thank you for everything.” He was sad Fillian had to leave, but a little relieved as well. The kiss he was sure had been coming would be put off, and he would have some time to think things through. Though the more he thought about it, the more he realized he’d probably regret it.