Page 8 of Shattered Dreams

Now that seems like wishful thinking, and I hate it.

“Maybe you should consider a nanny,” Paul says nonchalantly.

I tense, the words making me feel like more of a failure. It probably doesn’t make sense to most people; especially back home in California where nannies are like fashion accessories, but my wife and I didn’t want that kind of life for our baby girl. We wanted to be there every step of the way, present and proud—the way it should be.

“No,” I say with a firm shake of my head. “Victoria never wanted that. She was raised by a nanny and hated it. I was raised by my parents and loved it. So… we agreed on no nanny.”

“Okay, fine. But you’re going to need more help, whether or not you like it or not. That’s all I’m saying.” He holds his hands up in truce.

“My mom helps.”

It’s silent for a moment, then Paul adds, “School will help, too. Give you some time to figure it out.”

Rylee is starting kindergarten this fall, and that’s been another issue. Do I want to enroll her in the district here if we aren’t going to stay? Why is everything so difficult?

“Yeah, maybe,” I say, but nothing in my tone convinces either of us that I think it’s a good idea.

Thankfully, Paul gets the hint because he doesn’t say anything else until we’re stopping for gas and food.

Chapter Four

Paul

The whole drive back, Andre dozes on and off until he finally falls asleep, and I refuse to wake him. We made good time leaving New York, and should be home earlier than I initially thought we’d be.

I glance at Dre, his cheek pressed against the window of my Jeep, mouth half open, drooling on the glass as he softly snores away. I’m tempted to get him on video because it’s hilarious and you can never have too much blackmail when it comes to your friends, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to disturb him.

Not to mention, he hasn't slept much these last couple of months between traveling and trying to figure his shit out. I can only imagine what he’s going through, given how sudden Victoria's death was. Not to mention how young she was… and the fact he was the one who found her.

They’d been married barely six years. They had their whole lives ahead of them…

I know he will figure this out, one way or another. And of course, I will do whatever I can to help. He’s my best friend. I pull my attention from him and focus on the road, noting the speed limit is fifty-five and we’re going seventy, so I slow down because the last thing I need is another ticket. Amelia would chew my ass out, no doubt. Suspending or losing my license isn’t an option, and maybe there’s a part of me that wants to prolong the time because I enjoy Dre’s company.

Maybe his coming home wasn’t under the best circumstances, but I can’t say I’m mad he’s back. It’s closer than he’s been these last eight years.

When I found out that Amelia was pregnant, I told him before we told anyone else. Or I should say I called his ass freaking out, and he didn’t say a word. Not until I was done. Then he told me he’d gotten the offer to go to California. I swear I felt as if the wind was knocked out of me. Like I was losing everything at once—my freedom, my best friend, the dreams I once had of playing pro football. We kept in touch, though, because Dre refused to let the length of the country keep us apart. Sometimes he’d stop by if he was in town for a game, and we’d grab a beer and it’d be like old times. Those days were the ones I looked forward to the most because when we hung out, I didn’t feel like things sucked. Just being with Dre, at the bar watching the game, was all I really needed to feel sane and like myself in the middle of all the chaos.

But that feeling disappeared when he left, like he always did, and I’d count the days until our next beer. The phone rings, and I jump to grab it, switching the ringer off as I curse, not wanting to wake Andre. He never sleeps well when he stays in hotel rooms. I could sleep like a fucking log just about anywhere, which the guys used to take advantage of back in the day. I’m pretty sure Mack was the instigator there, given how many times I woke up to shaving cream on my face or Sharpie dicks drawn on me, but I’ll never prove it, though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy their bullshit. It was all in good fun.

I curse as I see the name on the screen.

Amelia.

I could ignore the call. Send it to voicemail. Deal with it later. But if I do that, I’m likely to hear about it later. So I answer the call, keeping my voice low.

“Dre’s sleeping,” I say, clearing my throat. “Can I call you back later or—”

“Your son has a broken wrist.”

I nearly hit the brakes as my entire body stiffens.

“What?” I snap, my voice kicking up to well over normal tone. “Is he okay? What happened? How did he do that?”

Dre shifts, and I silently curse myself as I try to steady my nerves.

“Calm down, he’s fine,” Amelia says with a sigh. I hear the exhaustion in her voice. I know it well.

Maddox is a fucking handful and then some. Just like I was at that age. I guess karma really is a thing, because of course I’d end up with a kid who’s going to put me in an early grave.