Page 20 of Waiting for Friday Night

It had all sounded so easy. So simple. He’d donated, gotten paid and his parents hadn’t been put out of their apartment. He’d tried to put out of his mind the idea of there being a kid out there who belonged to him, but never quite could. Thoughts of who’d gotten his sperm. Had that person had a boy or a girl? Thoughts he’d kept to himself until that Christmas when he’d been in his feelings after breaking up with Megan and he’d drunk too much of his aunt’s Christmas punch.

“Take a DNA test and list yourself to be connected to relatives. If you have a kid out there, maybe they can find you.” His sister’s Christmas punch–induced advice.

He’d done it. Never in his life thinking a decision made in desperation would come back to him like this. Quinton looked up from the paper that linked him to Shania. Her brows were risen, and she watched him with intense, focused eyes. His eyes.

“So, are you my dad?”

Halle scanned the school parking lot for Shania. Other players got into either their cars or the cars of their waiting parents. A few of the coaches lingered or walked up from the field with kids, but none of them were Shania. She checked her watch and waited. Maybe Shania had gotten caught up with something and would be out soon, but as the players thinned with still no sign of Shania, Halle began to worry.

Had she left already? Why would she do that without talking to her first? Had she wandered off? Some kids walked from the school to the McDonald’s across the street, but Shania should know not to do that without permission. Halle pulled out her cell phone and called.

Shania answered after the third ring. “Hello?”

“Where are you? I’m in the parking lot,” Halle asked in a rush, the rising anxiety subsiding knowing that her daughter wasn’t missing.

“I’m inside talking to Coach Q.” Shania spoke easily enough, but something in her voice put Halle on edge.

“Is everything okay?”

“Not really,” was Shania’s cryptic answer.

Halle turned off the car and reached for her purse. “What does that mean? Are you hurt? Did something happen during practice?”

“This isn’t really about football. Can you come in here?”

“Here where?” Halle opened the car door and got out. What was going on? Why did Shania sound so...off? What could have happened not related to football that made her talk to Quinton about it? She was supposed to come to Halle with any problems. Not her football coach.

“Come in the back door by the parking lot. I’m in his office at the end of the hall near the gym. Last door on the right.”

Halle spotted the door that the kids and coaches typically came out of after practice. “I’m on my way.”

She hurried inside the building. All types of scenarios played in her mind. Had one of the boys on the team said or done something to her? Had Shania gotten fed up with something and decided to get Quinton’s advice? Had he pulled her aside for some random reason, and if so, why would he single out Shania?

Halle pressed a hand to her chest and took a deep breath, stopping her mind from going all over the place before she walked down the hall. There was no need in making up all kinds of stories. Whatever was going on she’d find out in a matter of minutes anyway, and she’d deal with it then.

The last door on the right was open. Halle quickly walked down the hall and entered. Shania sat in a chair on one side of the desk, Quinton on the other. Shania’s face was stony. Her jaw clenched and her eyes burning with accusation as she stared at Halle. Quinton leaned back in his chair. His jaw slack and his eyes slightly unfocused as if he’d been stunned.

“What the hell happened?” Halle asked. The tension in the room was thick as molasses.

Quinton’s head slowly turned to her. His gaze focused and his brows drew together. “Umm... Shania just asked...” He cleared his throat.

Halle raised her brows. “Asked what?” She looked at her daughter. “What did you ask?”

“Is he my dad?” Shania asked bluntly. Accusation steel in her unexpected question.

Halle’s heart flipped. Pressing a hand to her temple, she closed her eyes and sighed. “Not this again. Coach Evans, I’m sorry. This is a conversation between me and my daughter. She never should have brought you into this.”

“You’re still going to pretend, huh,” Shania said, disappointment and frustration thick in her voice.

“Pretend about what? Coach Evans is not your father. Just because some kid said you look like him doesn’t make him your dad.”

Quinton cleared his throat again. “There’s just one problem.”

Halle’s attention jerked to him. “What problem?”

“This paper says something different.” He picked up the sheet of paper in front of him and held it up.

Halle blinked, her heart racing and the hairs on the back of her neck stood. She crossed the room and snatched the paper. “I don’t care what this paper says...” Her gaze landed on the top of the page and her voice trailed off. She frowned and turned to Shania. “I told you not to do the online DNA test.”

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