Page 42 of Houston, We Have a Problem
This pickle wasdefinitelyworth the extra twenty-five cents.
“So,” I say after we’ve both had a chance to dig into our burgers. “I know you like pickles for some reason and grew up near Philly with a little sister. You went to college and may or may not have had pets growing up.”
“I did not. Both my parents are allergic to fur.”
“Or did they just tell you that so they didn’t have to keep telling you no every time you asked for a puppy?”
Her jaw drops. “Oh my goodness, what if that’s true?”
Snickering, I shrug one shoulder as I relax deeper into my seat. Though I’ve done a pretty good job of pretending I have no idea what’s going on around us, I’m all too aware of most of the Scorpions’ parents surreptitiously watching us. This is probably the most interesting I’ve ever been. Some of them know who I am—the die-hard baseball fans—but most of them just know me as Coach Houston.
It’s a little strange being more than the guy who shows up every now and then, but I can’t hate the reason for their interest.
“What about you?” Darcy asks. “Any pets? Did you get along with your siblings growing up? You mentioned a stepdad and his sandals. What about your real dad?”
I choke on a fry when she says that last question. The fact that just a mention of my poor excuse for a father gets to me makes my stomach churn, but it’s only been a few days since my movie night with Brook. Maybe the bad juju is still lingering.
I take her questions one at a time after I manage to swallow. “I had a dog when I was really little, but I don’t remember him much. He wasn’t part of the package when Mom remarried when I was three. After that, we weren’t really in a place for pets. I get along with Brook the best, though we have our differences. I’d do anything for her, and I hope she’d do the same for me.”
“She’s your twin, right?”
I nod, unable to hold back my grimace as I think about my sister. Darcy picks up on my discomfort because her eyebrows pull together, and I make the impulsive decision to confide in her. “I just found out Brook and Jordan are dating,” I say quickly.
She blinks, concern still in her expression, but after a few seconds she bites her lip to hold back a grin. “I could have told you that days ago, Houston. Jordan hasn’t exactly been subtle. How do you feel about them being together?”
I rub the back of my neck, not sure how to put it into words. “I confronted Jordan about it yesterday and probably didn’t have the best reaction.” AKA I shouted at him and accused him of being a player, like he used to be. Part of that is because I’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep before he showed up, but really I just had no idea how to put my feelings into words. I rarely do.
“But then I saw the way Jordan was so serious about his feelings for her,” I continue, “and I think I’m coming to terms with it. Honestly, I’ve been trying not to think about it.”
Darcy’s smile softens into something gentler. “I haven’t met your sister, but Jordan really seems to like her. Maybe even love her.”
“That’s what he said.” I believe him, but it’s still hard to wrap my head around it.
“What about your other siblings? What are they like?”
I am so grateful for the change in subject. “Chad is eight years older. We tolerate each other most of the time, but there’s love there. We’ve been through a lot as a family, and he was always a rock in my life. The older we get, the easier it is to work through our differences. He’s the serious to my fun, but it’s not his fault. He never got to be a kid.”
“And your half-sister?”
“Micah. She’s like a cartoon kitten in human form. She’s cute, cuddly, and will take your eye out if you make her mad. Good thing it’s pretty much impossible to dampen her mood.”
“They sound great, Houston.”
“They are.”
“And your dad?”
Inside all this chaos isn’t exactly the best place to unload this sort of thing, but I’m so desperate to let her know every part of me—which is terrifying, by the way—that I almost don’t care.Still, I lean closer and drop my voice so she’s the only one who hears.
“He was never much of a dad. My mom was smart enough to divorce him when Brook and I were two or three, but we still had to go back and forth up until the day Mom died. We had to go live with him after that, but Chad was the one who took care of us. At least until my jerk of a dad finally landed himself in prison and we went to live with my stepdad.”
Okay. That wasn’t so bad. Darcy’s expression hasn’t changed much outside of a softening around her eyes, which is a lot better than the pity I’ve come to expect. Not that I ever tell anyone about my dad. Bonnie didn’t know anything about my parents at all. I’m not sure she ever asked.
“I’m really sorry, Houston,” Darcy says, and then she puts her hand on top of mine.
If she would stop touching me, maybe I would be able to stop comparing her to my girlfriends instead of thinking of her as a friend, but I’m such a sucker for her touch that I twist my wrist and lace my fingers with hers. That can be a friendly gesture, right?
Her blush says no.
