Page 17 of Shattered Dreams

“Well, I guess, as long as it's okay with Mr. and Mrs. Taylor…”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mr. Taylor grunts. Andre looks so much like his father, just a younger, more fit version.

I look back at Maddox, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Okay, but you be on your best behavior and—”

Maddox chirps out a, “Yes!” and throws one arm around me, and I hug him back, holding him close for a second as relief floods me, along with pride.

He did good today, better than I expected. Not only did he help Rylee find her stuffie, but the two of them played together all evening, their laughter the only giveaway to their hiding spots. And he never asked again when we were leaving.

“Thanks, Dad,” he says, bounding off towards the Taylors, who lead him and Rylee down the stairs.

I sigh, sitting for a moment in my half-put-together project, surrounded by pink walls. The house is quiet, being as the movers all finished up a couple of hours ago, and with Mr. and Mrs. Taylor gone, it’s just me and Dre.

Though the silence doesn’t feel like it usually does. There’s an almost reverent feel to it. It’s comfortable, I guess.

I glance at the directions once more and get back into the building, when I feel the temperature in the room shift. The familiar warm and spicy scent fills the room, and I smirk, not looking up from my work.

“You hungry?” Andre asks, his footsteps soft on the carpet. He sits on the other side, his jeans tightening as he pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. His biceps are more than noticeable from the motion, thanks to his thin white t-shirt that’s tighter around the sleeves.

My blood rushes, and I suddenly feel hot all over when I look at him.

“Starving, actually.”

Dre pulls his phone out and starts tapping away.

“Pizza sound good?”

“Sounds good to me,” I say, grabbing the wrench beside me.

“You know you didn’t have to do any of this,” he says carefully.

“Hand me that—” I point to a screw that’s rolled off. He does so without question.

“I know,” I tell him with a smirk.

“Want some help?” he asks, and I shrug.

“Sure.”

We work in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it’s the easiest silence I’ve ever endured. Between the two of us, we not only managed to get Rylee’s bed built but also made it up with fresh sheets and pillows and a myriad of stuffies. I stand back and take a look at my work—our work—and grin. Dre’s arm brushes mine, and I feel the heat of his skin, slightly clammy from sweat. I turn to see Andre is looking at me.

Staring at me, more like.

“What?”

Dre shakes his head, and I realize how close we actually are. I can smell his cologne and his sweat mingling together. All that can be heard is the sound of his breathing, and my gaze drifts up his body—over his chest that rises and falls, up to his jaw. To his mouth, which is slightly parted. My gaze hovers there for a moment as heat floods me.

“Just really glad you’re here.”

His gaze flashes from mine to my mouth, which is suddenly dry before traveling back to meet my gaze.

“Me too,” I say, my voice slightly raspy as I lick my lips to wet them.

The doorbell rings, pulling our attention, and I jump back as he clears his throat.

“That’s probably the pizza,” Andre says as he runs a hand through his hair.