Page 4 of Shattered Dreams

“I don’t see what that has anything to do with my guys.”

He shakes his head. "You think all those football players weren’t out partying it up while you were asleep?” He barks a laugh. “They party harder than anyone else.”

“Whatever,” I say. “Those guys respected me. Enough to hide whatever hangovers they had and play harder to cover it up.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’m sure they still do.” He pauses a moment, and when he speaks again, his tone is more serious. “And they will definitely respect you when you lead them to the championship this year.”

I can’t help but feel my lips turn up into a smile at that suggestion. I’ve coached the Cougars for the last six years. When I signed on, they were one of the worst teams in the league, and I knew I had my work cut out for me. I guess I still do. Even though they’ve made a lot of progress over the last few years. I think we have a real shot and I want to see them win more than ever.

It’s quiet for a moment, before I add, “None of them even know what happened.”

The silence is heavy before he speaks, his voice low and serious.

“Yeah, but it’s better that way, right? You’re dealing with enough as is, Andre. You don’t need the news about your wife being blasted all over the news. It’s only been a couple months, man. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your privacy.”

He’s right. I know he’s right. But I still feel like I’m abandoning my team. I had long-term plans for them, and knew despite what everyone else said, they’d only get better. They were already climbing the ranks, and we almost made it to the playoffs last season. We’ve restructured and rebuilt, and right now their future is in someone else’s hands. Even though it’s not my fault, and even though I know this is the right thing to do, I can’t help but feel like shit over it.

And not just work, but everything. Rylee, my parents, my future. Everything has changed. Nothing is how it was supposed to be.

I wasn’t supposed to be back in Marietta, living with my parents. I should still be in my home in California with Rylee and Victoria. But I couldn’t stay in that house after what happened… after knowing what happened to her in it. It was an accident. A freak fucking accident. But the image… the memory of her pale, lifeless body—no. I can’t go down that road. Not here. Not now.

”Distract me,” I say quickly.

It’s not a code word, but he knows what it means. He knows it means I’m all up in my head and need something to pull me back.

“Maddox put a frog in my bed two nights ago.”

“What the fuck?”

“Yep. I was in it, too. The little shit. Scared the hell out of me. I’m just lying there, trying to sleep, and I feel something slimy stick to my fucking leg! I almost shit my pants.”

I can’t help but laugh, already feeling lighter.

No matter what, I can always count on Paul to make me feel better.

Chapter Two

Paul

I stare at my phone while Andre hollers at the television screen, as if somehow the players can hear him through it.

I texted Amelia when we got in an hour ago, and she still hasn’t seen the text. I shouldn’t worry about my kid being with his mother all weekend, but I can’t help it. I haven’t gone on a trip since Vegas, and that was like eight years ago, right before Amelia got pregnant with Maddox.

It was an accident. Which sounds shitty, because that’s what most guys say, right?

But it’s the truth. We were just two friends who got stupid drunk once and made a baby.

I’m not sure why I agreed to go on this trip at all, except for the fact that Andre talked me into going. Not that I didn’t want to see the guys. We used to have so much fun together when we were in college, but my life… it isn’t like theirs.

I’m not some big-shot hockey player like Alex, nor am I on the cover of GQ like Cameron. I don’t jet-set across the country like Trey or Andre, and I certainly don’t have a cool job in tech like Hudson or Austen.

I’m a divorced, middle school gym teacher. Talk about boring.

“Everything okay?” Andre asks, and I realize how long I’ve been staring. I force a smile, not wanting to bring him down with my bullshit. Andre’s got enough going on in his life, he doesn’t need my issues. I can barely deal with them, so I don’t expect anyone else to. Besides, his are a lot worse.

“Fine,” I say, shoving my phone away and reaching for my beer.

I feel his gaze on me, and for a minute I think he’s going to call me out, so I don’t give him the chance.