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gigolo?”
    “What mama don’t know, don’t hurt her.”
    Justin didn’t let Bob Ray see him wince. He’d heard that the kid had to marry his girlfriend when they were still in high school. And he didn’t doubt that Bob Ray’s days of sowing his wild oats weren’t over yet. If there was one thing Justin was eternally grateful to his folks for, it was that they demanded that he and his brothers treat women with respect. He didn’t envy Bob Ray’s being caught in a teenage marriage, but just because he’d had to man up at a young age was no excuse to go AWOL on his wife.
    He wondered what Danny would say to Bob Ray in a situation like this. Justin wished he had his friend’s knack for always having just the right advice or Bible story or something perfect to illustrate the direction somebody oughta be headed. If Justin tried to quote some Scripture to the kid, he’d come off sounding like a phony. Most likely because, though he believed what Danny would say to Bob Ray, Justin didn’t exactly model it the way Danny did. Someday, Justin hoped to be more like Danny. Especially for times just like these.
    He grabbed a stack of 2x4’s and shoved them onto the dock. In spite of feeling inadequate, Justin felt a strong urge to pursue the subject. “Gotta be tempting, being around those beautiful women all night, every night. A lot of ’em seemed to like you.”
    “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask to be a married man at only eighteen, so she’s just going to have to deal.”
    “That how old you were when you two got married?” Justin continued stacking 2x4’s while Bob Ray pulled bundles of cedar out of the truck’s bed.
    “I was almost nineteen. Heather was seventeen, almost eighteen.”
    “Ouch.”
    “Yeah, ouch. I go from fullback to fatherhood in less than a year. And now? I live in a single-wide trailer and have to work two jobs to keep her and the kid in Cheerios.”
    Justin worked for a while, thinking. “Life’s weird, huh? Dan Strohacker, you know him?” Justin stood and rested for a second.
    “Oh, yeah. He’s . . . he’s . . .” Bob Ray dragged a hand over his face. “He’s a real good man.” There was a flicker of something on the kid’s face at the mention of Dan’s name that Justin couldn’t pinpoint. Respect? Probably. And something else. Guilt?
    “He really is. Anyway, he and his wife tried to get pregnant for years. I mean, they tried everything and spent a ton of money. They were old enough, financially secure, and have a beautiful home. You’d think God would go, ‘Okay, Danny boy, I hear your prayers. You’d make some kid a great dad. I’m going to bless you with a baby.’ ”
    “And here I am, just some chowderhead football player, knocks up his girlfriend when they’re using birth control.” Bob Ray’s grin didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t make a lick of sense to me.”
    “Not fair, that’s for sure. There has to be something in there, don’t you think? Cuz neither of you got what you wanted. Both of you . . . It’s like you’re being tested.”
    “Well, if that’s the case, I have a sinking feeling I’m not passing.” Bob Ray climbed out of the truck. “Come on. I got a couple of ice cold Gatorades inside. Let’s drink one before we haul this stuff inside.” He led Justin to the employee break room and pulled a couple of bottles out of the fridge. He tossed a bottle to Justin, then twisted the top off his own bottle and drank deeply. With a grunt, Bob Ray flopped into a chair at the break room table and stared at the Gatorade label.
    Pulling a chair out and spinning it around, Justin straddled it. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, although Justin sensed Bob Ray was wrestling with something. He didn’t speak, figuring the kid would spit it out if he wanted.
    “Dan and his wife?” Bob Ray finally began, and Justin nodded. “They were gonna adopt our son, Robbie.” It was obvious this topic wasn’t easy for Bob Ray.
    Expression as neutral as