Chapter 5

FILLIAN WAS all set for the rugby match. It had been a rough week, and he was more than ready for a chance to take out his frustration and pent-up aggression on the other team. Rugby was a release. His job required cool thinking and caution. No matter the situation, he had to remain in control and take charge—didn’t matter if it was a traffic stop, a robbery investigation, or a hostage situation. He pulled up to the field and parked his car next to Gregory’s truck, getting out just as Marnie and Weston raced around to him.

“I’m all better,” Marnie said brightly.

“That’s really good. I’m glad.” Fillian got a hug from the little girl while Weston waited for his turn. Gregory came around the car just as Weston got his hug.

“Go sit in the stands right over there with Auntie Cherie, okay?” The two kids raced over to the bleachers, and when the woman waved, Gregory went over to speak with her. Fillian headed for the field, and Gregory joined him a few minutes later. “That’s Stevie’s wife.”

“Wow,” Fillian said. He knew that Stevie had recently gotten married, but he hadn’t expected such a classic dark-haired beauty.

“Admiring my wife?” Stevie asked, his gaze as proud and happy as possible.

“Wondering how you landed her with the mug you got,” Gregory retorted, dodging a swipe from Stevie. Fillian laughed.

“Knock it off,” Coach called, and the team gathered together. “These guys are not going to be pushovers. They play rough sometimes, and last year….” He growled, because apparently the carpet bastards cleaned their clocks last year, and the coach, as well as the rest of the team, didn’t intend to allow that to happen again. “Now, everyone, warm up and stretch. I want hard play, and I don’t want any of you injured, and I especially don’t want any new wives lecturing me about returning their husbands in one piece.” He looked right at Stevie, who rolled his eyes. “The game starts in ten. Be ready.”

Fillian stretched on the grass and got himself psyched up. Rugby was an exceedingly physical sport, involving strength and endurance. A game was eighty minutes of hard, tough play, and often the fifteen-man team that won was the one that could hold out the longest against their opponents’ nonstop aggression.

“Go, Daddy!” Marnie and Weston called from the stands, jumping up and down as Gregory waved to them. “Go, Mr. Fillian!” they added.

Fillian smiled and waved back before finishing up his warmup and jogging onto the field to take his place.

Fillian always loved this time in every game where anything was possible. His heart raced, and he was all business. Rugby was his escape, a chance for him to put aside the pressures of his job as well as man’s inhumanity to man that he saw almost every single day.

“Are you ready?” Gregory asked.

“You bet. Let’s kick some carpet-bastard ass.” He couldn’t help thinking about how Weston had picked up on that particular phrase. They got into position to receive the kickoff from the carpet bastards, a whistle blew, the ball sailed through the air, and the game began.

The first forty-minute half flew by, with Fillian tackling two players who seemed especially intent on getting to Gregory. By the time the whistle blew, he was covered in dirt and had scrapes on his legs and a grin from ear to ear. It didn’t hurt that they were ahead by ten points, and it was clear to Fillian that a number of the players on the opposing team were beginning to flag.

“You did great,” Stevie said to him, slapping Fillian on the back. As a hooker, Fillian came in contact with the ball a lot, and he was one of the players who decided what to do with it and had to react quickly to the other team’s strengths. “I don’t think they knew what hit them. Gillespie was good, but you have a real knack for the position.” He jogged off as the coach called the team together. His speech was a combination of tips for improvement and revving them up for the second half.

Fillian was getting ready to return to the field when he saw Weston bound out of the stands and race over to the side of the field. He seemed so intent that Fillian tapped Gregory on the shoulder, and they both hurried off to the side where Weston stood. “What is it?” Fillian asked.

“That man, the creepy one… he’s right over there.” Weston pointed, and Fillian looked where he indicated but didn’t see him. During the week, he’d confirmed that the suspect was out on bail. “He’s gone now.”

“I believe you, and thank you for letting me know,” Fillian said, still watching the area Weston indicated. The park where they were playing was close to Harrisburg and filled with people. Across the main park road were soccer fields with plenty of spectators for the games. It would be easy enough for someone to melt into the crowd. “Go back and sit with your sister and Aunt Cherie. Let me know if you see him again, okay?”

Weston nodded and sat back down.

“What do we do?” Gregory asked.

“Give me a minute.” Fillian stepped aside and called the station for an update. He then called the local police department and explained what was happening, providing as much pertinent information as he had. Once he was done, he returned to where Gregory paced off to the side of the field.

“I called my department and the local police. They’re both aware of the situation. If they can get proof of the behavior, then his bail could be revoked and he’ll sit his butt back in jail. Keep calm and your eyes open. When I go back on duty, I’ll find out what’s going on, along with the conditions of his bail. Most judges are not going to allow someone on bail to stalk or harass their victims. Don’t worry. He’s probably trying to scare you.” Though Fillian had to wonder if it was more than that. His mind began to whirl as possibilities arose, but he’d look into them later.

Coach called them back to the game, and Fillian needed to focus his mind on that if they were to have any chance of winning. Usually that was at the top of his mind, but keeping Gregory and the kids safe easily pushed that to the side.

The second half went as well as the first, with the game turning into a blowout just as clouds overtook the sky. By the time the game ended, drizzle coated everything. The guys celebrated with whoops of redemptive joy before agreeing to meet at Molly Pitcher Brewery in an hour.

Gregory collected the kids, and Fillian joined them, not sure what Gregory wanted to do. “We should go home.”

Marnie sulked slightly as Weston groaned. “But I want Molly Tots,” he said, pooching out his lower lip.

Fillian took a step back. He wasn’t going to get involved in this discussion, even though he hoped Gregory would decide to go. Fillian had already figured out that if he wanted to be in Gregory’s life, then it was a package deal and the kids came along with him.

“Yeah, Daddy, I want tots too. You played really well, and we cheered real loud. Did you hear us?” It seemed both kids knew how to wrap their daddy around their fingers.

“Okay, but I have to go home and get cleaned up before I can go anywhere, and we all need to get out of the drizzle.”

Fillian couldn’t help wondering if he could master the pooched lower lip to see if he could get Gregory to do what he wanted… and it had nothing to do with Molly Tots and more to do with getting Gregory alone and personal.

“Then I’ll meet you there.” He was grungy and needed to clean up as well. The end-of-game drizzle had added mud on top of dirt, and he needed to get it out of places that were certain to chafe. “Don’t eat all the tots.” He smiled and then hurried home.

AN HOUR later, Fillian strode into the tap room and was directed upstairs, where most of the players and their partners had gathered for the after-game celebration. “You were awesome,” Stevie told him, already a few beers in.

“You need to sit down and eat something,” Cherie told him. “You can’t just drink beer and get all sloppy drunk.” She flashed him a scowl, and he took a chair at the table with Gregory and the kids. Cherie joined them, and Fillian took the last seat, across from Gregory.

“You both need to eat more than tots,” Gregory told the kids. He went through the menu with both of them, and they chose chicken fingers. Fillian ordered a chicken sandwich and some tots along with a Red Coat.

Thankfully, the guys seemed to understand that Gregory needed to stay with the kids, and they congregated around the table. “That was some save in the last few seconds,” Stevie told him.

“That was all Gregory. I passed the ball back to him, and he knew exactly how to press it forward,” Fillian said.

“Where did you learn to play like that?” one of the other guys asked. “Did you go to a prep school or something? They don’t play much rugby in this area, at least not in schools.”

Fillian snorted. “I went to public school here in town. When I was studying law enforcement, I had friends who played, and they taught me the game. One of the guys was from England, and he grew up with rugby. Damn, he was fast, and he could run like the wind. He taught me to weave and dodge like that.” He really loved the physicality of the game. Yes, there was strategy and team play, but also sheer physical exertion. All of them together were what he loved.

“I’m gonna play rugby like Daddy,” Weston declared.

“Me too,” Marnie added.

“Girls don’t play rugby,” one of the guys said.

Gregory hit him with a glare that froze the air in their immediate area. “Tell that to Sharon McClure. She played with us in college, and she could tackle harder than most of the men. She could also move the ball a heck of a lot better than Chester did tonight.”

Fillian knew exactly who had made the offending comment. “So, Marnie, if you want to play, I’m sure your daddy would be happy to teach you when you’re a little older.” Gregory beamed over her head, and Fillian nodded slightly, pleased that Gregory was happy.

The server brought orders of food, and the kids settled in to eat. “Wait until it cools down a little,” Fillian told Weston as he reached for one of the steaming tots. He spread them out and then slowly began to eat his own dinner, sharing his cooled tots with the kids to give them something to munch on.

“I have to go,” Marnie told Gregory, and he took her down the stairs to the bathroom. While they were gone, what started as sharing goofy smiles with Weston ended up as a funny-faces contest, with the guys joining in. Weston ended up gigging and nearly snorted soda out of his nose.

Fillian kept looking at the stairs, wondering where Gregory and Marnie were. Weston began eating again, and Fillian grew more worried, wondering if he should check on them, when Gregory, holding Marnie’s hand, returned with Gregory’s mother behind him.

“…and you brought the kids to a bar.” She had built up one heck of a head of steam.

“That’s enough, Mother,” Gregory said. “Go back and join your husband and leave us alone.” He looked about ready to explode.

“Are Grandma and Daddy gonna fight?” Weston whispered, and this was no stage whisper, but one filled with real fear. The rest of the team heard the exchange, and they all turned and stared at Gregory’s mother, some even moving in behind Gregory. Fillian slipped out of his seat to stand next to him.

“You have an entire rugby team on edge. I think you should go back where you came from,” Fillian said, watching as Mrs. Haber straightened her shoulders. He wondered if she was going to put up a fight, but she turned and went back down the stairs, the tension clear in her posture.

“Go on back to your dinner,” Gregory told Marnie gently, and she climbed back into her seat before she and Weston began talking softly between bites of their tots.

The mood of the entire evening seemed to have changed, with a pall hanging over it. “Well, who knew we’d get a show with our beer?” Stevie chimed in. The guys laughed, and the sour mood popped like a soap bubble.

“What’s up with her?” Fillian asked. “The kids aren’t at the bar, and there are other families here having dinner. There’s nothing wrong.”

Gregory’s rigid posture didn’t shift. “She’s threatening to fight for the kids. Mom thinks she can provide a better home for them. She and my stepfather live in a big, fancy house with every convenience known to man, including a housekeeper, a pool, and huge rooms for Marnie and Weston. She thinks she’d be able to provide them with more than I can. But there was a reason Arthur and Stephanie chose me to raise their children. He didn’t want them to grow up the way we did, with everything money could buy… and nothing else.” He sighed softly as he took his seat once more.

Fillian moved and took the now empty seat next to him, holding his hand under the table. The guys had shifted throughout the tap room, with small conversations and occasional jolts of laughter cutting through the din of intermingled conversations.

“Just because she wants something to happen doesn’t mean it will. There have to be grounds, and she would have to go a long way to prove that you aren’t fit to raise the kids, and she can’t do that.” He squeezed Gregory’s fingers under the table.

Damn, growing up, he always thought Gregory was the lucky one. He’d look out his bedroom window to the sparkling swimming pool and all the toys and games Gregory had and long to have just some of the things he did. But all those material things came with a huge price. Fillian realized he was the lucky one. After giving Gregory’s hand another squeeze, he pulled his away and ate his dinner.

“THANK YOU, Mom,” Fillian said into his phone half an hour later, standing on the sidewalk out in front of the tap room. He needed a few minutes without the wall of sound coming at him.

“What are you thanking me for? What did you do?” The mirth in her voice was instantly calming.

“Nothing. I met Gregory Montrose a while ago. He and I play rugby on the same team and… well… just thank you. It’s too much to go into right now, but… yeah. Thank you for being good parents, for truly caring about me… for everything.”

“Okay…. What is it that’s getting to you? And don’t try to pass this off as nothing. I’m your mother.” That warning tone always made him stand straighter. A late summer breeze swirled around him. “I know better.”

“Gregory is raising his brother’s two kids.”

“Yes, I know. I saw that Arthur and his wife died a few years ago. I was worried that his mother would get her hands on them so she could treat them the way she did Gregory and Arthur. We always worried about them.”

“They’re sweet kids, Mom. And Gregory… well, I envied him, but….” Those old feelings and assumptions, as well as his growing attraction, left him in an emotional jumble.

His mother chuckled. “And you like him.” He could always count on his mother to see things clearly and to be able to tease him with only a few words, using that all-knowing tone mothers had. “And those kids.” He could almost see her smile. “So why did you call me?”

“I don’t know, other than Gregory’s mother made an appearance, doing her best impression of Cruella de Vil, and it made me want to thank you.” He turned to look into the restaurant, where patrons sat and talked. “I should get back to them. We’re at Molly’s, celebrating our win.”

“Then I’ll let you go to spend time with your friends. But you should come to dinner and bring your friend and his kids. I’m tired of cooking for just your father and myself.”

“Okay. I’ll ask him.” He said goodbye and went back inside, passing Gregory’s mother at a table for six with a group of people. She glared at him as he passed, but Fillian paid her little attention. There was nothing he could do about her, and he didn’t want the guys to think he left them.

“Everything okay?” Gregory asked when he returned to the table. The bills had been presented, and Fillian snatched up both of theirs and handed the server his credit card.

“It’s fine. I was talking to my mother, and she wanted me to ask if all of you would like to come over for dinner sometime. Mom loves to cook a big meal, and with it being just her and Dad now, she doesn’t get to very often.”

The kids had settled down and were yawning. “I think that would be nice. Let us know when and what we can bring.” He smiled a little. “I need to get these two home. It’s getting on their bedtime.”

“Okay.” Fillian followed Gregory out of the tap room.

“You don’t need to go. I’m sure the guys will be more than happy to talk, drink, and celebrate the win for hours yet.” Gregory was already looking toward where he’d parked the car.

“I’m on duty early tomorrow morning. There are some ongoing issues with the freeway and excessive speeding, so I’m going to be sitting by the side of the road handing out tickets.” Fillian shrugged. “Whoever said being a state police officer was exciting and glamorous knew nothing about the job. It’s hours of sitting around for a few minutes of action.” He drew closer. “But I’ll message you tomorrow with a few dates that we can get together for dinner with my parents.”

Gregory swallowed hard. “You really want me to meet them… with the kids?” His reaction seemed strange, and Fillian wondered why, but now was not the time to ask.

“You already know my mom and dad, and yeah. They will be head over heels to meet these two.” They walked toward Gregory’s truck. Weston and Marnie ran ahead to the back door, and Fillian took a chance and drew right up to Gregory. “Stop worrying and just relax a little. I know you have the kids and that they have to come first. That’s the deal with being a parent. But that doesn’t mean that you need to be alone forever or that you can’t have someone in your life.” He closed the distance between them and kissed Gregory quickly, just to give him a taste of what was possible. “I’ll talk to you soon.” He turned and hurried west toward his car, smiling to himself.