Chapter Thirty-One

Finn

" G ood thing Danny didn't come home last night. That's all I gotta say." Bax had just finished filling his to-go mug with steaming coffee and was returning the pot to the warmer when I met my roommates in the kitchen on Saturday morning. "We could hear your girl in my room with two walls and a hallway between us." He smirked as he grabbed a warm wrapped breakfast burrito from the pan Callahan pulled from the oven.

With a shake of my head, I said, "You're jealous of how well I can please my lady."

"My lady is not complaining." He shot me a look over his mug and sipped his coffee.

"You're both ridiculous. A word to the wise—keep some things to yourselves," Callahan chimed in.

"Okay, Dad." Bax snorted.

"Those women we left passed out in our beds are all friends with each other. That's all I'm sayin'." He stepped around Bax to fill his mug.

"He has a point," I said. "And it's not even on top of his head."

With his free hand, Callahan messed up my hair. "Surprise, surprise. You're not pointy-headed either." He laughed, bowing his body to avoid my fist.

"That in honor of the first scrimmage?" I asked Bax with a nod to his T-shirt, which read "That's a horrible idea. What time?"

Grinning down at his chest and back at me, he said, "Seemed appropriate."

I bumped my fist to his.

Spring scrimmages were an opportunity for the coaches to assess our skills, to figure out who of the underclassman would move up on the depth chart, and which of the starters was truly ready to lead. For the three of us, it was the start of the most important season of our lives. While none of us were taking it lightly, each of us was focused on having a good time playing the game we loved.

At the facility, the locker room had an air of game-day anticipation. Guys went through their game-day rituals, like the class clown Tarvarius Johnson doing some kind of electric slide as he listened to R&B through his earbuds. Dalton Sneed, no longer our rookie kicker, did something with touching his thumbs to his fingertips over and over in a pattern. Weirdest damn thing I'd ever seen, but I couldn't argue with nineteen of twenty field goals last season and no missed PATs. Dallas "Dally" Cousins, our center, gripped a football like he was trying to make it one with his hand.

I sat quietly in front of my locker and closed my eyes, visualizing jumping off the line of scrimmage at the exact second the opposing center hiked the ball. This season, I was determined not to penalize the team by jumping offsides in my eagerness to blow up the opposing teams' offensive plays.

Coach Ellis and the rest of the staff entered the locker room together. "All right, men. Huddle up." The guy never raised his voice, even over the din of fifty-four players moving around in pads and cleats, music playing, and other nonsense going on, yet by the third word, we were all quiet and ready to listen to him.

"Fans and media will be watching today's practice. They'll want to know if we're going to be a contender for the national title again this year." His steely ice-blue eyes roamed the circle of players. "We already know the answer to that."

The seasoned players nodded, while a couple of freshmen walk-ons let out some "Hell yeahs!" that Coach shut down with a narrowing of those intense eyes.

"What the coaching staff wants to know is who is in it for the long haul? Because making it to the title game starts today, and it doesn't stop until next January." He let that sink in for a minute. "Go out there today and play hard. Play smart. Show us you're in it for the title."

That was our cue to let loose with our victory cries. Bax and I fist-bumped each other from where we sat together on the bench. 'Han might have been my best friend, but Bax was my partner in the defensive trenches. Today it was defense versus offense, and Callahan and our other roommate Danny were fair game.

Donning our helmets, we rolled out of the locker room and jogged down the tunnel. Though we ran out onto Holland Field without all the fanfare of the band and cheerleaders and twenty thousand screaming fans, the small crowd on hand to watch the scrimmage shared their enthusiasm for Wildcats football with cheers and wolf whistles and applause loud enough to give us an adrenaline rush. I scanned the stands for Chessly, locating her with her friends Saylor, Piper, and Jamaica. Squinting my eyes against the spring sun, I noticed a fifth girl with them and recognized Danny's lady, Taryn. Guess the gang was all here, which put a warm glow dead center in my chest.

I loved showing off for the crowd, but showing off for Chess was a whole other thing. I wanted her to be proud of me.

Over the course of the sixty-minute practice, the offense ran the forty plays Coach had scripted, with the starters in for half of them. I managed not to jump offsides even once, which earned me a few attaboys from Coach Ainsworth and a nod of approval from Coach Larkin. By the time we'd finished, we were tired, sweaty, and amped up. Coach Ellis had even managed a grin or two at the success of our play.

The raucous noise of fifty-four excited players reverberated around the locker room as we showered and dressed. I was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with my girlfriend. The word had been rattling around in my head for weeks now and had settled in. We were in a committed relationship, and Chess was my girlfriend. The thought brought a smile to my face.

As I headed down the hallway to meet her in front of the facility, Coach Ellis stepped out of his office. "McCabe. A word, please."

The tone of his voice gave nothing away. But after the way I'd played in the scrimmage, I thought I might be in for some attaboys from Coach for once.

"Tell Chess I'll be out in a few," I said to Callahan, who nodded and kept walking.

"Hey, Coach. What's up?" I asked as I strolled through the door.

"Have a seat, son."

Only then did I register other people were in the office with him, a man I'd never seen before and a girl I vaguely recognized.

"We have a problem, Finn," Coach began. "My players play fair—with everyone, all the time." His steely-eyed stare said I'd broken that rule, but damned if I knew how.

"It's been brought to my attention that you've been ignoring your responsibilities to this young lady. Perhaps you'd like to explain?"

Only then did I pick up on the thunder on the strange man's face as he directed his gaze from me to the girl. Looking back at her, my heart dropped to my knees. While I could harbor a wild hope, I was pretty sure she wasn't hiding a basketball under her shirt.

Fuck!

"Coach, I don't know what's going on here." For once I thought about my words. "But I barely know this girl. And I swear I'm not responsible for her situation." Staring directly into his eyes, I willed him to believe me: to take my side.

The man jumped up from his chair to loom over me. From the looks of him, he could have played my position at one time. "Are you calling my daughter a liar?" he yelled.

It was tough to hold my ground while I looked up into his mottled-red face, but I had to stand strong. Whatever this girl was up to, I wasn't going to take the fall for some other guy's mess.

"I'm saying I've only seen your daughter on a couple of occasions at the library last fall when she was with the other jersey"—I cleared my throat—"when she was with some other freshman and sophomore girls who like to study with the team." Wracking my brain, I worked to remember this girl's name.

"Penelope says you're her child's father, and she knows better than to lie to me." The man's angry eyes darted between his lying daughter and me.

Penelope . She was one of Tory Miller's buddies. She hung out on the edge of the crowd, and I think I'd heard her say three words once: "Good game, Finn." Why the fuck would she pick me to pin her pregnancy on?

"Mr.Walker, sit down." As usual, Coach didn't raise his voice.

After a beat "Walker" complied.

"In all my dealings with Mr.McCabe over the past four years, he's never lied to me either."

I let out some pent-up air.

"However, someone in this room is lying."

"I'll volunteer to take a paternity test. I'll even pay for it," I said.

Penelope's face turned ashen.

I had no idea what I was thinking when I turned to her and asked, "Out of curiosity, when did we do the deed?"

"McCabe," Coach interrupted. "Don't be crass."

"My future is on the line, here, Coach."

"Homecoming," she whispered.

Well, that made it easy. I had an entire group of witnesses to back me up. Still, I pressed her for more details—details I hoped would prove my innocence. "Where? Where did we hook up?"

She stared hard at the floor, her voice barely audible. "In the back seat of your pickup."

"I don't know what your game is here—Penelope, right?"

Her head snapped up.

"But I don't need to pay for a paternity test since I can't possibly be the father."

"Watch yourself, mister. You're calling my daughter a liar, and as we've already established, she doesn't lie to me." Walker flexed his fists between his knees.

I felt sorry for the girl, but not sorry enough to give up my life to save her from whatever she was lying to cover up.

"To be crystal clear, we hooked up in the back seat of my truck. You're sure it was my truck?" I asked.

She nodded. "It was your truck. You flirted with me during the bonfire and we went back to the parking lot where you'd parked. One thing led to another, and now here we are." She spoke as though she was on autopilot—or had memorized her story.

Coach's expression didn't change, except for a slight narrowing of his eyes, telling me he'd heard what I heard.

"It happens that my truck is parked in the lot right now. How 'bout we go out there and you can point it out."

"That's not necessary," Walker growled.

"No. I think it is," Coach said.

He stood from behind his desk—the cue for the rest of us to do the same. Being polite, I gestured for the Walkers to precede me out of Coach's office. As we neared the front of the facility, I saw my friends waiting near the doors. Their expressions of curiosity morphed to concern as they clocked the pregnant girl walking between her dad and Coach with me in the rear.

"Finn?" Chess said as I neared her.

I gave her a subtle shake of my head, and my insides twisted at the hurt I saw spring into her eyes.

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.

Mr.Walker didn't play for Coach Ellis. "Buzz Miller is right. This program is run by people who don't understand how the game is played. I'll be meeting with the college president about pulling my support—then we'll see who you believe."

"Do what you have to do, but you're not ruining two young people's lives with your baseless accusations." Turning to Penelope, Coach added, "Good luck to you, young lady." In uncharacteristic Ellis fashion, he said, "You're going to need it."

He took two steps from us before he turned and nodded in our direction. "Gentlemen, a word, please."

"One sec, Coach." It was my turn to stare down Penelope Walker. "I have a question. Why target me? We've probably only ever said two words to each other."

She sniffed, slid her eyes in the direction of her dad, and mumbled, "It was Tory's idea."

"Tory Miller put you up to this? Why?"

She shrugged.

"Why did you go along with it?" I didn't clock that I'd raised my voice until Callahan put a hand on my arm. Swallowing hard, I jacked down. "Why would you want to saddle yourself with someone you don't even know?"

"It was easier than facing my parents with the truth," she mumbled in the direction of her shoes. "They don't like my baby's father."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr.Walker's jaw flex.

The beep of Coach Larkin locking his pickup interrupted the conversation. Without another word Callahan and I fell into step behind Coach Ellis while Larkin took up the rear, leaving the Walkers alone on the pavement to deal with their own damn mess.

I sent Chess what I hoped was a reassuring smile when we passed our friends on the way back to Coach Ellis's office. I had no delusions about how this next part was going to go. Coach had stuck up for me, but his displeasure at being put in a position of having to stick up for me over a girl didn't sit well. Anyone with eyes could see it.

The door to his office had barely closed behind us when he started in. "What is it with you guys getting into entanglements with donors' daughters? The program needs those alumni dollars so you can have a state-of-the-art weight room, an indoor practice field, the big, comfy busses for road games... In case you missed it, those funds don't come from student fees." He stomped around his desk and sat down.

Behind us, Coach Larkin took a seat on the leather couch pushed up against the wall. Having not been invited to sit, Callahan and I remained standing.

"All due respect, sir, I didn't start the mess that led to Buzz Miller pulling his funds." 'Han stood at ease with his hands folded in front of himself.

Mirroring my best friend, I said, "I saw that girl maybe two or three times at the library last fall when she was with Tory Miller and a bunch of other girls. I damn sure didn't knock her up."

"Language, McCabe. You will show respect."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"That's what was going on out there?" Callahan asked. "Fuck, Finn. We warned you about hanging out with jersey chasers."

"O'Reilly." Coach's tone hauled my friend up short.

"Sorry, Coach," 'Han said.

"This is why we lecture you guys every year about paying attention and not putting yourselves into situations. Using protection. Knowing how old the women are before you engage in certain activities." Coach Ellis sighed. "You're a fourth-year junior with an impressive GPA in biology , McCabe. You of all people shouldn't have been the one accused."

All the talk about donors and Buzz Miller and Callahan and Bax's warnings about jersey chasers in general and Tory Miller specifically came flooding in, and I blurted, "That Penelope girl is friends with Tory Miller. When Tory was a freshman, she lived on my girlfriend's floor. All I know is some bad shit went down between them." I cleared my throat. "I didn't know either of them at the time, but on Homecoming last fall when I drove Chess back to the dorms, Tory saw us together. And she didn't like it."

Coach pinched the bridge of his nose. "It keeps coming back to the Millers."

Callahan and I exchanged a look.

"Ol' Buzz has a hard-on for football players and wants his girls to end up with guys who have a chance to play at the next level." I splayed my hands with a shrug. "Although how Penelope Walker factors into that doesn't make sense."

"At the risk of pissing you off, Coach, maybe that guy out there"—Callahan gestured in the direction of the parking lot—"shouldn't be the only one having a conversation with the college president."

Coach Ellis blew out a long-suffering sigh. "Yeah, I've figured that out, O'Reilly."

"What was the deal with my truck?" Coach Larkin asked.

Turning to him, I said, "Guess Penelope thought her story would be more believable if I drove a fancy pickup since that's where I supposedly knocked—" I cleared my throat. "Supposedly got her in a family way."

For the first time since he'd called me into his office an age ago, Coach Ellis cracked a grin. "You probably should have showed her what you actually drive, McCabe."

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with my truck," I protested. "I mean, other than it's twenty years old, isn't a crew cab, and has a stick shift, which makes doing certain activities in it dicey." I smirked.

"And the heat is temperamental and it could use some paint, and—"

I cut Callahan off with a fist to his bicep. He laughed even as he rubbed his arm. Fucker .

Coach Ellis shook his head. "All right, you two. Get out of here. And do not do anything stupid, at least for one day."

"Yes, Coach," my best friend and I said in unison.

Neither of us wasted a second in scrambling out of Coach's office. As we headed down the hall on our way back outside, Callahan asked, "Did you learn your lesson, Finnegan?"

"I haven't hung out with a single jersey chaser since all that shit went down with you and Tory last semester. You know that," I grumbled.

'Han relented. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But before we step outside, I need to warn you that your girl was not at all pleased with what she saw going down in that parking lot."

"Fuck," came out on a long exhale. Just once I could use a break from patching things up with Chessly.