Page 74 of Shattered Dreams

Especially when you are friends who are sleeping together.

I adjust the treadmill speed faster, because I don’t want to focus on this. I want to focus on enjoying this trip because after tomorrow—New Year’s Eve—we have to burst the bubble and go back.

Back to reality.

Dre’s parents and Rylee will come back from their trip to see their family in Maine. Amelia, Sean, and Maddox will come back from their family visits. Dre and I will go back to work, and it’ll be a countdown until the next in service or school break, it’ll be a rush of pickups and drop-offs, and school activities and us crashing at nine pm every day, barely able to keep our eyes open long enough to cuddle. Back to pretending we’re just two best-friend bachelors with kids who live together and work together.

Back to being roommates, as far as the kids are concerned.

That’s the other thing I can’t stop thinking about.

The kids.

Andre and I never intended for any of this to happen, and we never wanted to hide things from the kids, but these sorts of discussions are hard for adults, let alone kids. I thought I was going to have a heart attack when we told Dre’s parents, and I think my soul might have left my body when Amelia basically insinuated that she knew Dre and I were a thing. I don’t think Maddox would have an issue with Dre, because he likes Dre and thinks he’s cool as hell, and it has nothing to do with him being an ex-NFL guy, and everything to do with Dre having a pool and a cute-as-hell little princess who he genuinely cares about like a little sister, and he’s just… not lame, like me. He’s confident, friendly, and fun…

But Maddox is also getting to that age where things are confusing, and it’s only going to get worse. He’s finally stopped asking if Amelia and I are going to get back together. He’s finally accepted our divorce to an extent, and I don’t know if telling him that I’m in love with Dre will do more harm than good.

And then there’s Rylee—my little princess. She’s already been through more shit in five years than most of us have been through in a lifetime. She didn’t just lose her mother; she was uprooted from her home in California, then uprooted from her grandparents, then Maddox and I crashed into her life, and…

And yet I can’t stop thinking about that night at Maddox’s birthday, when she told me she doesn’t have a mommy. When she curled up against my neck and slept like a damn angel, despite telling me how she gets sad and misses her mom. Nor can I stop thinking about how much I enjoy our tradition of eating s’mores before dinner as she tells me all about her dramatic kindergarten adventures, or how reading her bedtime stories has become one of my favorite parts of my day. I can’t deny the way my heart skips a beat when she looks at me and smiles, running down the sidewalk to hug my legs every time she sees me now.

No one could ever replace Victoria, and I don’t want to try to do such a thing, but…

I also feel like Rylee and I have grown closer, too. And I don’t want to hurt her, or her feelings, especially if she’s doing better these days. She’s made a lot of progress since she and Dre moved back here, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. But bringing something up like her dad not only being with someone else—other than the only person she’s ever known him to be with—I don’t know if that will upset her. I hope it wouldn’t, but she’s so young, and she is still learning how to deal with the loss of her mother on top of learning how to process big feelings like that.

And I don’t want to be the reason she pulls back or is upset.

I stop the treadmill and pull out my airpod, shoving it into my pocket as I catch my breath and take a momentary break. My heart races as heat ransacks me, and I bend over to stretch, focusing on my breathing.

“Just do it,” I tell myself. “It’s the only way you’ll know.”

I glance up at the television, noting that ESPN is talking about Alex and his recovery from his injury at the start of last season. One of his teammates crashed into him and busted up his ACL pretty good. Of course, since everyone knows the guy is a hothead, some people seem to think it was intentional, which is what they’re talking about. Whether he’ll ever return to the ice.

They don’t know Alex very well if they think he isn’t going back to hockey come hell or high water. The guy might be an annoying asshole most of the time, but when he wants something, there is no telling him he can’t have it.

I guess Alex and Dre are similar in that regard. Maybe I should take a page out of their playbook and just go for what I want.

Dre.

The kids.

Our life together as a real family.

I reach for my water bottle, sucking in a deep breath as I watch the broadcasters continue their debate about Alex’s potential return or early retirement, and I know exactly what I have to do.

I take a long drink of water. “Fuck it, I’m going to do it.”

“Do what?” The familiar voice pulls my attention, and I turn slowly to see Dre, standing there a few inches away. I take in the sight of him, dressed up in a sleek dark green silk button-down, the sleeves tightly rolled up to his elbows, his dark grey peacoat draped over his right arm. The top button is popped, drawing attention to the expanse of his throat; his Adam’s apple a bit more prominent from the way the collar rests. My gaze hovers there; on his Adam's apple. It’s a strange thing to notice, to feel attracted to. He swallows, and I watch it bob, and suddenly my heart picks up its rhythm, even though it’s been nearly ten minutes since I’ve stopped running.

“You okay?” Dre asks, his eyebrows furrowing as he steps closer to me. I notice some of the guys in the gym looking in our direction.

Looking at him.

That’s when it hits me, really hits me.

Why wouldn’t they stare? He’s Andre fucking Taylor.

I blink as he steps in front of me, and I’m acutely aware of his proximity. There’s barely inches between us.