Anything for Her - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,78
kid. My sister, Anna, isn’t.” He hesitated. “We think we have two different fathers.”
“You don’t know?”
“My mother won’t talk about it.”
“So you quit talking to her,” Sean said slowly.
Nolan raised his eyebrows. “How do you know that?”
Sean looked at him as if he was stupid. “I hear you on the phone with your sister and brother, but never either of your parents.” He flushed. “I mean, your mom and...”
“I still call him Dad.” Nolan grimaced. “I got snotty for a while back then and called him by his name.” A reluctant smile tipped his mouth. “He didn’t like it. He persuaded me that he was, by God, my father in every way that mattered.”
“So...” Puzzlement tugged the boy’s eyebrows together. “Why are you so mad at him?”
“Because he knew. All those years, he knew. We all lived a lie.”
After a minute Sean nodded and then applied himself to eating. Nolan looked down and realized his food was probably getting cold. He picked up his knife and fork, too.
“Allie might be different,” Sean said at last, tentatively. “I mean, you don’t know why she doesn’t want to talk about...whatever.”
“That’s true,” Nolan admitted heavily.
“I think you should talk to her.”
“Yeah.” Nolan smiled at him. “You’re right. I should.”
“So you will?”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
The response was a wicked grin, one that would have girls’ hearts fluttering. Maybe already did; Nolan remembered the teammate’s twin sister who’d been asking questions about Sean. Good God, Nolan thought; there’d be girls beating down the door before he knew it.
“You going to answer?”
“Not sure it’s really any of your business,” Nolan told him, “but yes. I will talk to her. Give her a chance to talk to me. Okay?”
“Okay.” Sean’s gaze settled on Nolan’s plate. “Are you going to finish the rest of your steak?”
Nolan had almost forgotten what it felt like to be hungry 24/7. “You can have it.” He forked the steak and shifted it to Sean’s plate. “The potato is all mine.”
“That’s cool.” He’d earned another grin. “I saw the pie. We get that for dessert, right?”
“It’s raspberry. And, yes, we do.”
“Ice cream, too?”
“Can’t eat pie without it.”
“Awesome.” Around the bite of steak he’d shoved in his mouth, Sean said, “I can dish it up.”
“So you can cut the pie in fourths instead of sixths?”
“It’ll get soggy if we don’t eat it fast enough.”
No denying it, fruit pies did get soggy as the days passed. He laughed. “You can dish it up.”
Satisfied, Sean asked Nolan if he’d ever read Lord of the Flies, because he’d started it for English class but he’d already read the end because that’s what he did. Nolan dredged up his memory of the rather disturbing book and they had a discussion about it that went deeper than he would have expected with a kid Sean’s age. It almost succeeded in keeping Nolan’s mind off what he’d decided he’d do right after dinner: call Allie.
Half an hour later, the kitchen clean, Sean bounded up the stairs to read a couple of chapters, he said. Nolan had noticed he was spending a lot more time online, too. On the whole, he thought it was a good sign suggesting Sean really was making friends. All those Facebook pages to check out.
With some reluctance, he picked up the phone and dialed Allie’s number.
“Nolan,” she said, her tone totally unreadable.
“Hey.” He winced. Not the best lead-in. “Listen, I was wondering if I could come over tomorrow night. I’d like to talk to you.”
The silence stretched long enough to make him nervous. “Is this a breaking-up kind of talk? ‘Allie, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I don’t think this thing we have is going anywhere’? Because if so, I’d rather you said it right now and got it over with.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d thought about saying something like that—and couldn’t imagine now that he’d ever have been able to spit it out. Or that he’d ever have gotten over the regret if he’d been that stupid.
Yeah? What if I ask my questions and she says, “None of your business.” What then?
Nolan didn’t know. His heart ached.
“No,” he said. “It’s nothing like that. I really do want to talk to you.”
“Do you want to come to dinner?” she asked carefully.
He hesitated. “Why don’t I come over after? Is that okay?”
Silence pooled again, deep and dark. “All right,” she said finally. “I’ll see you when I see you. Good night,” she added, and the dead air told him