Page 33 of Shattered Dreams

My stomach flips and my cock twitches, reminding me what I need to do just as the kids exclaim loudly that yes, they are starving. Rylee says she wants s’mores for breakfast, which Andre laughs and says isn’t breakfast. I watch as he gently pushes her into the kitchen, nodding at Maddox.

“What about you? What do you want? And don’t say S’mores.”

Maddox laughs, really laughs, and I don’t miss the way his smile reaches his ears when he looks at my best friend. It warms my heart more than it should.

“Pancakes!” he shouts, following Andre into the kitchen.

I make my way to the bathroom to do my business, and when I’m done, I wash my hands, feeling a strange sort of tingling in my chest. I ignore my aching dick, knowing now is certainly not the time for… that. Awkward as it is, I know Dre probably doesn’t care. Why would he? He’s a guy. He knows how it is sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything; it’s just nature.

At least that’s what I tell myself as I splash cold water on my face and take a deep breath, pushing aside the thoughts. When I make my way to the kitchen, though, I can’t help but smile at the sight of Rylee cracking eggs into a bowl that Maddox is stirring.

And when Andre’s gaze drifts up to mine, that familiar smile killing the anxiety in my stomach, I can’t deny how warm my chest feels.

“Hope you like pancakes,” he says with a smirk.

Chapter Thirteen

Andre

I meant what I said about Paul and Maddox staying here as long as they need, though I’m sure it’ll take some time for Paul to get it. They lost everything they owned just last night. It’ll take time for a lot of things to settle in, including all the stuff he’s lost. I’m sure it hasn’t hit him yet.

After dinner, I tried to get him to help me pick out more stuff for him and Maddox—I already got everything they’ll need, but what about stuff they want? Paul wanted no part of it though, so I let it be.

For now.

The kids are in bed already. Tonight, Maddox is sleeping on Rylee’s floor because they insisted on having a sleepover. They’re just kids, so I said I was fine with it. They aren’t super close, but they’re close enough. They’ve always known about each other and they’re getting along great. I love seeing them together. So I pulled down a sleeping bag for him and Rylee gave him her extra pillow, and they’re having a little sleepover in her room with Bacon J. Ham and Straw Berry, who are guarding the door with forks as weapons. Kids and their imaginations.

I love it. I love this for Rylee. The circumstances suck, obviously, but she is smiling more when Maddox is around.

She’s going over my parents’ house tomorrow, and they offered to take Maddox too. He said he had to think about it. He knows my parents, of course, but he isn’t close with them. I can understand being wary, but maybe because Rylee will be there, he’ll want to go. I think it would be good for him to do something and keep his mind off what happened.

I’m not a pro at this. I’m still figuring out how to handle Rylee losing her mother while dealing with losing my wife and the huge change with leaving my job and house. But now, Paul and I are in this together. We’re both starting over, and there’s something about that fact that makes my chest tight in more ways than one. Not that I’d wish this on my worst enemy, but knowing I’m not alone, knowing that I can help him through this, the way he’s helped me? How could I ignore that?

Two cans of beer sit on the coffee table in front of me. They’re both empty, but Paul fell asleep before I could grab two more. I didn’t want to drink on my own, so I’m sitting here watching a movie while he snores softly beside me on the couch, just like he used to do back when we were roommates in college.

I watch him, the way his chest rises and falls gently. Peacefully. His lips slightly parted, face at peace. It’s nice to see after I know how much he’s been stressed lately, and that was even before everything had happened with the fire. Not to mention, dealing with everything that goes with being the recipient of a disaster, in general. Insurance claims, paperwork, and phone calls that never seem to stop. Amelia has also called a hundred times, thinking of a new question each time. She’s just trying to help, I get that, especially because she’s not here. But I feel like she’s overwhelming him, which isn’t helping matters, and he’s too nice to tell her to stop.

When the movie ends, I get up, stretch, and stare down at Paul again. His position is a bit awkward, his neck scrunched, arms crossed over his chest. He shouldn’t have to sleep out here on the couch for the next week until the bed sets come in. My bed is big enough to fit us both.

Not to mention, it’s more comfortable. I lean down to shake his shoulder.

“Hey, Paul,” I say softly.

He stirs, eyes popping open.

“What? What’s wrong?” He sits up.

“Nothing, everything is good. Come on.”“Come on where?” he asks, rubbing his eyes. His hair is messy, and a chunk of dark waves fall forward.

“Bed,” I say.

He groans. “But I was sleeping...”“In the bed.”

Shaking his head, realization sets in and he says, “No, I’m not making you sleep on the couch.”

I roll my eyes and grab his arm to pull him up. “Don’t argue with me. The bed is big enough for both of us.”

He grunts, but follows me without protest. He shuffles into the bedroom, and lazily throws back the blankets before sliding in. I do the same on the other side. There is plenty of space between us, so this isn’t weird. We’ve shared smaller beds before. It’s not a big deal.