" HE BELONGS TO ME," Troy's mom said, "the one who changed his diapers and bathed him and cooked for him and helped him with his homework and took care of him when he was sick. Just because he's got half your genes doesn't make you a father."

Drew turned his attention back to her, shook his head, and said, "You haven't changed a bit, have you, Tessa? Still beautiful. Still full of vinegar."

Troy's mom pointed a finger toward the street. "Go."

"You think this boy doesn't deserve to know his father?" Drew asked, his heavy eyebrows settling in on his brow. "At least a little bit? What do you think, Troy?"

Troy felt his mouth sag open, but no words spilled out. He looked at Tate. She had good sense, better than he and Nathan. Her big brown eyes widened, but she only shrugged her shoulders in confusion.

"You're twelve years too late, Drew," Troy's mom said. "Don't make us call the police."

"Police?" Drew said, raising his eyebrows.

"Tessa," Seth said, speaking quietly. "Let's not go crazy here."

"I didn't even know Troy existed until I saw you and him on TV with Larry King," Drew said, his hands splayed open, his voice nearly begging. "I knew then. He looks just like me."

"I told you," Troy's mom said.

"You never told me anything," Drew said. "We fought about getting married and having kids, something you wanted and I didn't. Back then, with my injury and hoping I could make a comeback, my whole life was a mess. I never knew we had a son. You think I wouldn't have seen him all this time? You think I wouldn't have helped pay for things? I've done well, Tessa, even without football."