Page 37 of Honest Boys Don’t Play

We head to the showers and change, going our separate ways in the parking lot. I’m grateful that my former coach is letting me use the ice this summer to practice. The last thing I want to do is not keep up my regimen and be behind when the preseason starts.

When I get home, I shower again and then I find Bertie has come out of my room and is now in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open, glowering at the contents.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She closes the door and crosses her arms under her chest as she turns to me. I swear her boobs have gotten bigger. I don’t mean to stare, but the thin white tank top she has on hugs the swells of them.

She snaps her fingers. “Eyes up here, bud.” When I manage to pull my gaze from her chest to her face, I’m relieved to find that she’s smiling. “I’m starving, but all I want is that egg sandwich you made me that one time.”

“I can make you another.”

She bites her bottom lip and drops her eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Are you sure”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll have to run to the grocery store to get what I need. We’re running low on stuff.”

She waves her hands frantically in front of her body. “Oh no. That’s okay. Seriously. I’ll find something else to eat. You don’t need to go buy anything or make it for me. I’m self-sufficient, I promise.”

I shake my head, trying to hide my smile. “It’s not any trouble, I swear.”

Her shoulders droop. “I really do want that sandwich.”

“I won’t be long. You want a Sprite too while I’m out?”

She gets a dreamy look. “I’m pretty sure an Emotional Support Sprite would fix everything right now.”

I grab my wallet and head out to my truck. I don’t quite make it there when I hear feet padding after me.

“Wait, I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I haven’t left the house today, so it’ll be nice for me.”

I crank up my truck and roll down the windows. There’s a local grocery store only about three miles down the road. It’s small and rundown, but it always has fresh local goods from nearby farms and the best prices around.

Bertie’s hair whips around her shoulders from the wind and she sticks her arm out the window. “I love this truck.”

That was the last thing I expected her to say. “What?” I blurt.

“Yeah.” She plucks a piece of hair away from her lip. “There’s something special about it. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Not that I think Bertie is a spoiled princess, because nine times out of ten she doesn’t act like someone that’s an heiress to a billion dollar chocolate company, but I would definitely think the last thing she’d like is my dingy old truck with the dirty floor mats and seats that are beginning to rip open and lose cushioning.

“You probably don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

“I was thinking I might have to get rid of it before the baby comes.” Even though it’s paid for, logically I don’t need two vehicles taking up space.

“What?” she practically shrieks. “No.” Tears fill her in eyes. I might be amused at how easily she cries lately if it weren’t for the fact that I’m responsible for the last two times. “You can’t get rid of it, Luke.”

“It’s not practical for the baby. I need something I can put a car seat in and I don’t need two vehicles.”

“No, please get something else and keep this too.”

I pull into the lot and grab the nearest empty spot. “It means that much to you?”