Not many outfits were left in the lot, as most of the players had already left for the day, what with our “conversation” having taken a while. I recognized my roommates’ rides, a couple of other players’ trucks, and Piper’s sweet Camaro parked a short distance from the front of the stadium. My truck waited between Callahan’s pickup and Danny’s Mustang.
My nerves threatened to make me throw up when Penelope headed in the direction of my truck. Then it was all I could do to hold in the smile when she walked right on by it without giving it a second look. She didn’t hesitate in purposefully pointing out a sleek black Ford with a crew cab parked in the row reserved for the coaching staff.
Huh.
“That one’s yours,” she said, her eyes pleading with me to play along.
Sorry, sweetheart.
I fished my keys from my pocket and handed them to Coach. “You wanna try these to open that?”
Instead, Coach directed his stare at Penelope. “You want to explain yourself, young lady?”
“Excuse me?” Mr.Walker took a step in Coach’s direction.
I noticed her dad liked to use his size to intimidate people, but Coach ignored him. “You’re one hundred percent certain this is Finn’s truck?”
“Y-yes.” She faltered. Then, squaring her shoulders, she rallied. “Tell them, Finn.”
“What’s going on here?” Coach Larkin said as he joined the four of us. “Are you trying to sell my truck?” He shot Coach Ellis a smirk.
“No, but for argument’s sake, you want to try opening it with this?” Coach Ellis held out my key fob.
Coach Larkin scrunched his forehead. “Why would I try to do that?”
“Humor me.”
With a shrug, Coach Larkin took my keys and pushed the unlock button several times. Of course, nothing happened, so he handed my keys back to me.
“Now yours,” Coach Ellis said.
His puzzled expression morphed into something a bit terrified when he clocked Penelope’s protruding belly. But he fished his key fob from the pocket of his khakis and pushed the unlock button. The flash of the headlights accompanied the muffled clunk of the doors unlocking.
Coach Ellis turned from the truck to stare Penelope Walker in the eyes. “I don’t know what is going on here, but I do know who hasn’t been telling the truth. Whoever fathered your child, he wasn’t one of my players.”
“How dare you!” Walker bellowed. “It was dark and chaotic at the bonfire, and Penelope is used to refined cars, not redneck trucks.”
“Hey—” Coach Larkin protested.
Coach Ellis cut him off. “I gave her multiple opportunities to change her mind, and she said she was one hundred percent certain this was Finn’s pickup.” Though he spoke calmly, steel girded his tone. “Finn was telling the truth, which is clearly why he volunteered for a paternity test and asked that she identify his vehicle.”
“She has witnesses,” Walker growled, his face turning the mottled shade of red again.
“So do I,” I countered. “In fact, they’re right over there.” I pointed to my friends who were staring at the spectacle going on across the lot from them. “Callahan!” I called.
I watched as ’Han said something to the others before jogging over.
When he joined us, I asked, “Where was I and who was I with at the Homecoming bonfire?”
He pulled a face and said, “You were with us and mooning over Chessly until Jamaica and I fixed it so you had to give her a ride home.” With a smirk, he added, “You’re welcome.”
“Not the time for jokes, O’Reilly,” Coach Ellis said.
’Han straightened right up. “Sorry, Coach.”
“Of course he’d back his teammate, but it changes nothing,” Walker insisted.
“It changes everything. Finn is not the father of your daughter’s child. She knows it, Finn knows it, and now you know it.” Every player on the team knew better than to argue when Coach used his “you know it” tone.
