Page 98 of Shattered Dreams

The warmth of his palm against my skin.

I miss him so fucking much…

It’s why I came here in the first place.

“Paul, look at me,” he pleads, and though I don’t want to, I can’t bring myself to resist him because he’s not a figment of my imagination.

He’s here.

I slowly let my gaze travel up to meet his, and I swear I must be losing my mind, because it looks like he is on the verge of tears, too.

“What?” I ask, my voice fired up as hell. His palm against my skin is warm, and I ache to twist my fingers in between his, but I know it’ll only hurt more when he leaves. Which he will.

Because he has bigger things to worry about, including a bright, shiny new job and a new life to live.

“I didn’t take the job,” he says, and my heart sinks as I hang my head in shame.

I move to pull my hand back, but instead, I find myself moving closer.

“You what?” My voice is faint. Shaky. I hate how busted up I sound, hate that I can’t hide both the guilt and the relief in my voice.

Andre takes a couple steps toward me, encroaching on my space.

“I couldn’t,” he says. “I mean, I did. But I realized it was a mistake, and I took it back…”

My heart beats so loudly in my chest I think it’s echoing in the damn wind.

His words make me feel torn.

I want to tell him he’s making a mistake. That he should take the job because it’s what he loves more than anything else. He loves being Andre Taylor, renowned coach and a valuable athlete in his own right. And he should; he worked hard to be that man.

But I love Dre. The man who loves to bake the best muffins and is stubborn as hell. My best friend, who I thought loved me and our life we built together. And I know if the situation was reversed, he’d tell me to chase my dreams.

I just didn’t think he would be the definition of my dreams.

There are a million things I could say.

A million things I should say.

I should tell him he’s being an idiot. That he’s throwing away a great opportunity, and that he needs to do what’s best for himself and Rylee, but all that comes out of my mouth is “Why?”

The sounds of REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling” carries faintly through the parking lot, the melodic crescendos echoing as flurries start to fall. His hand warms mine, neither of us daring to move.

“Because I love you. And I made a mistake. No, not just a mistake. I fucked up—bad,” he says, as if it’s that simple.

I close my eyes as guilt falls on me, shaking my head. I don’t want to let go of him, but I have to. I can’t think clearly with him this close, his familiar scent clinging to my lungs, his touch making me ache for more.

His eyebrows furrow as I pull my hand back. I suck in a breath.

The damage is already done.

Silence blooms between us, tense and cold.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask.

I find his gaze, my heart in my throat.

Andre’s eyes glisten beneath the spotlight as snowflakes fall between us.