Page 89 of Shattered Dreams

You never think you’re going to run out of time. You think you have forever, but you don’t.

Maybe I was stupid to think that Dre and I would have this—us—forever. Even though on some level, I think I knew this was temporary.

But like a fool, I told myself it would be different. Because it’s Dre. I told myself if there was one person in the world who would never leave me, who would always tell me the truth, it was him.

But I guess I was wrong. I guess you never really know someone as well as you think you do.

I pull up his text thread, debating if I should call him. Text him.

But if he is in the middle of his interview, or if he is doing something important, I don’t want to cause a problem. Which sucks.

Even as hurt as I am, I am still thinking about him. About what I can do to make things better, easier for him.

The bell rings, and I slide my phone back into my pocket, readying myself for my last class.

I shove my thoughts aside, force a smile on my face, and greet my last class with the excitement of a man who definitely hasn’t just suffered a brutal kick to the heart.

I somehow manage to get through the last hour and a half of school. I go about my Thursday like I always do. I drive by to pick up Rylee, take her home, get her a snack and start her on her homework. I make dinner, work on my curriculum for the following week, get Rylee ready for bed.

It’s nearing seven-forty-five when I collapse on the couch. Alone.

I pull out my phone, praying that maybe I’ve missed a call or a text from him. All there is, is one text from Dre.

Dre: Kiss Rylee good night for me.

Nothing else.

No, “I didn’t take the job,” or “they went with someone else,” or even an “I miss you.”

My heart sinks, and I am half tempted to tell him I wouldn’t have to kiss his daughter goodnight if he were here, but I can’t do that. Because even as pissed as I am, I know how much that would hurt him.

I know that he hated leaving Rylee before. Agonized over it, even.

So what’s changed?

I set the phone down so I am not tempted to text him and say something I might regret.

Like how much I love him and that I want him to choose me, how I wish that us, and our life could be enough for him, because it’s enough for me.

I shove the phone away, and hang my head in my hands as the tears come without warning.

Eight months ago, I sat on this same couch and Dre promised me everything was going to be okay. That we would get through this together, and we weren’t even together at the time. I believed him. I stupidly believed my best friend would have my back and would never let me fall, but now here I am on that same couch, alone, and things are certainly not okay.

I look around the room, at all the paintings and decor that haven’t changed since he bought this house.

Most people decorate or change things when they get a new place. Aside from some furniture for me and Maddox he bought because of the fire, nothing has changed.

This house is his home, but he never made it his.

Because he never intended to stay, and I think on some level I have always known that.

Always known this moment was coming, and I just didn’t want to accept it.

Nothing lasts forever.

Especially the good things.

I know that better than most.