Page 10 of Big Rucking Disaster (Rucked by You #8)

Chapter Nine

Yardley

R elief washed over me as he put his phone away. I couldn’t stop him from doing something hotheaded and stupid tomorrow…but I could prevent him from doing that tonight. “Tell me about your dreams.”

He blinked. “My what?”

“Your dreams? I assume playing professional rugby’s one of them. Otherwise I’d have to wonder why you put yourself through that physical torture every day. How’s the knee?”

He shook his leg out. “Good to go.” He scratched his nose. “Yeah, pro rugby was my dream from an early age. As soon as my uncle introduced me to it. I might’ve thought he’d be into football—the world kind…”

I knew he meant soccer, so I nodded.

“But he really was into rugby. He was…I don’t want to say a violent man.

He never raised a hand to me. But he was a brutal man.

A cruel man. He loved…well, violence. He loved when guys got hurt.

I didn’t as much, but I pretended I did.

Anyway, he got me signed up and playing early on.

Best thing he ever did for me. Well, that, and insisting I finish high school.

He didn’t think I’d be good for much other than playing, but he figured I needed some kind of education behind me. ”

“Did you ever go to university?”

He pursed his lips. “Uh, no. I took a few courses at BCIT. This and that. Mostly to keep me busy.”

The British Columbia Institute of Technology, hmm? He’d piqued my curiosity. “What kinds of classes?”

“I messed around with some marketing stuff. I dunno, I thought I could work on improving rugby’s reputation.”

“Sounds noble.”

“Well, I’ve never had the guts to talk to our front office about it.

I just, like, did some projects. I was also looking at maybe taking an accounting class—I’m good at math.

But they seemed hard, and I was working all the time in my courier job while trying to make the squad.

Then I did—so I set my sights on the national team. ”

I cocked my head.

He waved me off. “They had an amazing hooker back when I was first starting, and they’ve had two exceptional guys since. I don’t stand a chance of making the team.”

“Have you tried?”

“Did you know the New Zealand All Blacks tried to recruit Isaiah? He’s half Kiwi.

But he would’ve had to prove himself in the junior leagues before he could move up, and he was better off sticking with Canada because, as good as he is, his odds of making the New Zealand team weren’t great.

And, by then, he’d sort of fallen in love with Travis.

Plus, his mum’s here, and then he and Travis bought a house—”

“Johnnie.”

“Yeah?”

“Have you tried for the national team?”

“I want to. I really do.” He rubbed his face. “I know I’m under consideration. But I’m getting older—”

“You’re thirty-one.”

“My body’s been through a lot. I’m no spring chicken.”

“You’ve got experience and grit. That’s worth a lot.”

“Can we change the topic?”

“Sure.” For the first time, I sipped my ginger ale. All the ice had long melted. “What do you want to talk about?”

He bit his lower lip before settling those sky-blue eyes on me. “You.”

I snickered. “I’m an open book. Boring as shit. Next topic.”

“No, I mean it. You were married for, how long?”

“Almost fifteen years.”

“Were you happy?”

I hesitated. “I thought I was. But even if he hadn’t cheated on me, I wouldn’t have shouted from the rooftops how lucky I was to have found the perfect man.”

“The foot doctor.”

“The foot doctor. Who makes a shit ton of money and who never understood the nobility of teaching.”

“But teaching is noble. How will the next generation fare if we don’t have great teachers?”

“His thoughts exactly.”

Johnnie frowned.

“So he felt I should be teaching at the local private academy—the kids who were destined to be the next generation’s top minds.” I took another sip.

“But you want to help the kids who don’t have all those advantages.”

“Nailed it in one.” I ran my hand through the condensation on my glass.

“We struggled growing up. Sheer grit and determination got Jamilla through law school and me through teacher’s college.

Part-time jobs, scholarships…anything we could do.

But that’s tough terrain to navigate. If I can help my students get through it—get over it and to the other side, why wouldn’t I do everything in my power?

And yeah, I’m idealistic. You’d think after almost two decades that I’d know better. ”

“There have been successes, though, right?”

“Yep. Five kids made the Canadian Football League. Three got scholarships to US colleges, and one made the NFL. Two made it to pro hockey, and one played for the Seattle baseball team for a while. I went down to watch him for a game.” I took a breath.

“A couple of wrestlers, a kid who did judo—obviously didn’t learn that from me—as well as a swimmer.

Oh, and a diver. Which is like totally nuts.

She did the ten meter, and holy shit, that’s high.

I’ve also helped kids get academic scholarships.

Anything that might get them out of where we are.

You know what it’s like. We both straddle the downtown eastside—you from the west and me from the east. That level of poverty and deprivation. ..”

He nodded.

"But I’ve had students die. A couple in crashes, several overdoses, a couple of suicides…” I took another sip. “More good stories than bad, but that’s been damn hard work on my part. Nicholas never understood that.”

“Silver spoon?”

“Yep. Med school entirely paid for by his family. He graduated debt-free, while I had a pile of loans.”

“Don’t suppose he offered to help you pay those off.”

I snickered. “Uh, no. But I didn’t contribute as much to the house while I worked my ass off to clear my debts. He tried to bring that up in the divorce proceedings—claiming I should only be entitled to one-third of the house since he’d paid more for it.”

“How’d that go over?”

“The mediator gently suggested he take that idea and shove it up his ass. He was on her bad side from day one—and they’re not supposed to have a bad side. My lawyer advised me to keep my mouth shut and let Nicholas sink himself. Which he did. I got half of everything.”

“With which you bought your house.”

“I did.” I grinned. “I actually like it. I wish I had more space when Jamilla comes over, but I’m just grateful she does.”

He cocked his head.

“With the size of her house, it’s entirely conceivable she’d never want to visit my little place. But she finds my place charming, and one or more of my nephews stays over a couple of times a month. The attic’s configured with beds for all of them. So they’ve got their own space.”

“But you could convert it to bedrooms for your own kids, right?”

My breath caught. My heart stuttered. My chest tightened. “I don’t have kids, Johnnie.”

“Well, no. I get that. But you clearly want them. But Nicholas didn’t, right? Or am I reading between the lines and getting it wrong?”

Shit. “You’re…” I took a deep breath. “Even Jamilla doesn’t know—”

“That you want kids? It seems pretty obvious to me—”

“How badly I wanted them. I was always able to make excuses that, I think, sounded plausible.”

“Or she was oblivious to your pain.”

I didn’t like that he thought Jamilla might not care. Or that she might not know what was in my heart. “I talk a good game, Johnnie. Almost as good as you.”

He tipped his whisky glass at me. “Touché.”

I took another sip of my drink. “Yes, I wanted kids. But I’m too old now—”

He snorted.

I glared.

“Who just told me I wasn’t too old for the national team?”

“Well, you’re thirty-one.”

“And thirty-nine is not too old to be a father. Hell, men in their fifties and sixties father babies. Although admittedly not generally with women that old. Biology’s weird that way.”

I squinted. “That women in their sixties can’t have biological children?”

“That men in their sixties can. There should be a cutoff. I mean, if you’re sixty-five and father a kid, you might not even be around for their graduation. I take issue with that.”

“Uh…okay. That’s fair. But doesn’t the same apply for a thirty-nine-year-old?”

“So you’d be forty when the kid’s born. Fifty-eight when they graduate from high school. Like sixty-something when they finish university. They have kids, and you’re a grandpa before you’re seventy. That’s not so bad.”

I sighed. “You make it sound so easy. Just find a woman, get her pregnant, have a baby…”

“There are, like, adoption sites, right? For pregnant women who want to give their babies up for adoption?”

“And they’d pick a single gay man? Over a family?”

He pursed his lips. “What about kids who’re already born? They need homes too.”

“Again, single gay man.” Why am I arguing? Yes, I might be able to become a foster parent…but that’s a remote possibility.

“That’s bullshit.” He spat out the word.

The women in the booth next to ours glanced over.

I tried to duck.

Johnnie leaned forward. “Sorry to have disturbed you.”

“No worries.”

He cleared his throat. “Are you Julie Reyes?”

At that, my gaze shot to two women next to us, and holy shit, Julie Reyes was in the booth next to ours.

She grinned. “I’m trying to keep a low profile, but yes, that’s my name.”

I might not have recognized her, if not for Johnnie’s keen observation.

The actress’s normally distinctive white-blonde hair was secured under a baseball cap. The bill was low, shadowing her distinctive emerald-green eyes.

Trust Johnnie to have recognized the well-known celebrity. She starred in a television show about a superhero. She was his nemesis. The villain Lyric.

She pointed to her friend. “This is Lindy.”

The woman with tan skin waved enthusiastically.

I wracked my brain, thinking I’d seen her somewhere as well. “I’m Yardley, and this is my friend Johnnie.”

“We’re mates.” Johnnie indicated between the two of us.

Friends…mates…yeah, we were becoming those.

“Johnnie’s a rugby player with the Vancouver Orcas.

” Because offering him up to two gorgeous women seemed like a logical thing to do.

Everything I’d read about Julie Reyes, including that she was single—I thought—said she was a super-nice person.

She and Johnnie would make a striking couple. All blond god and goddess.

“I’m not much of a rugby fan, sorry.” She appeared genuinely apologetic for that.

“No worries. Violent sport.” He leaned toward the women. “Super awkward here, but Yardley has three nephews, and I mean, who isn’t a Justice fan?”

Vigilante Justice was the name of the show she worked on, and Justice was the superhero character played by the swoon-worthy Cole Hamilton.

“Are you fishing for an autograph?” Julie laughed.

“It would make him the best uncle ever.”

“Sure.” She dug around in her handbag and came up with a notepad and a sharpie. "How many nephews? One for each? And you’ll want Lindy to sign some as well.”

Lindy tried to wave her off.

Julie glared. “Stop being like that. You’re a big star too.”

The pieces fell into place in my mind. Lindy Doshi. She’d had supporting roles in several big films over the past few years.

I grinned. “I loved you in that movie with Cole Hamilton and Peter Erickson. You were amazing.” Cole and Peter had played gay lovers in the bittersweet film. Peter had won the Academy Award for that little movie.

Lindy’s dark-brown eyes flashed gratitude. “Yeah, that was a great film.”

Ten minutes later we had five autographs secured from each woman—one for each of my nephews plus one for myself and one for Johnnie.

Julie and Lindy promised to watch the next rugby match, but I certainly wasn’t going to hold them to it.

They resettled, and I eyed my watery ginger ale.

“I still say bullshit .” Johnnie met my gaze with flinty blue eyes.

I blinked. And tried to replay our previous conversation in my mind. “Fostering and adopting is harder for single people—especially gay, single men.”

“I don’t think you want it enough.” He downed the last of his whisky and shot a look over his shoulder.

The adorable bartender grinned and nodded.

Less than a minute later, another whisky appeared.

Johnnie grinned. “He’s a fan.”

“Ah.”

“I still pay for my drinks.”

“Julie Reyes just paid for hers. If she doesn’t get comped, I didn’t figure you would.”

Johnnie laughed. “Some people are more into sports than movie stars.”

“Have you seen Julie Reyes?” I might be gay, but I knew drop-dead gorgeous when I saw it. And she’d been really sweet, giving us all those autographs. We’d certainly tried to give her a graceful way out, but she’d insisted that anyone who shouted bullshit and played rugby deserved something.

My companion had blushed.

We’d accepted the autographs. Meyer wouldn’t care, but both Roland and Kolson were huge VJ fans—never missing an episode.

Roland was a little young to understand the will they or won’t they sexual tension between Cole and Julie’s characters, but Kolson understood.

He’d made a couple of comments about bisexual Cole’s appearance that had hit my radar.

I’d made certain, with Jamilla’s knowledge, that Kolson and I had a conversation about it being okay to like boys, girls, enbies, or all of the above.

He'd rolled his eyes.

I vowed to pay better attention.

“I’ve seen Julie Reyes.” He glanced toward the door she’d just disappeared out of. “I’ve also seen you.” He turned his attention back to me. “You want kids. Why not make it happen?”