Page 82 of Feels Like Home
"What?" He jerks forward in shock.
Nope, my mistake. He's grabbing another burrito.
Another big difference between us? Howie eats when he's stressed whereas I lose my appetite completely.
"As Court and I were leaving, I asked her that very question."
"How can she not tell him? He has a right to know."
"She said she doesn't want to break up his marriage."
"Yeah, well, she should have thought of that before she slept with him."
"No.Heshould have thought of that. He's the one with the wife and kids."
He winces. "Shit. That's not what I meant. Of course that's on him. But come on, the guy has a right to know. Especially if she wants you and Court to raise his child."
I bury my face in my hands and groan. "This is all such a mess."
All I hear is Howie chewing like the pig that he is as I grieve for the few glorious seconds where I pictured this as being great news. Before the cold, harsh reality set in. Even if Court decides he wants to go ahead with this, how would that even work? Could I really keep the fact that I'm raising my father's son a secret from him?
"So now what?" Howie asks, polishing off his second burrito.
I gape at him. "How can you be eating right now? Aren't you in shock?"
"My brain is. My stomach needs fuel. I've lost twenty pounds, and if I want to have a shot at playing next season, I need to gain that weight back."
"I have no idea what the next step is. I mean, Court's meant to be going back to Boston in less than three months. The baby won't even be born yet."
The noisy munching tapers off.
That's not a good sign. Means Howie's thinking.
My stomach twists.
"And what about you guys? How are things going?"
"What do you mean?"
He smiles at me, licking a bit of melted cheese off his palm. "You know what I mean."
He winks at me as he continues lapping at his palm. It's clear what he's insinuating.
And it's gross.
Very, very gross.
"Stop it. I don't need that visual."
"I'm sure you and Court are doing way worse things to each other."
"Why are we even talking about this? We're in the middle of a family crisis."
"No. Our dickheaddadis in the middle of a crisis, even if he doesn't know it yet. You're a strapping young man in his sexual prime."
"What has gotten into you?" I say, picking up a corn chip and nibbling on the corner to distract myself.
"Oh, come on," he chides, enjoying himself way too much. "We tell each other everything. Well,almosteverything."
