Page 21 of Shattered Dreams

This kid doesn’t miss a damn thing. I swear, there’s no getting anything past him.

“No, I’m just hanging out with Dre.”

There’s a weird tension as I focus on turning down Sunset, which means we’re roughly ten minutes away from Amelia’s.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

I snap my gaze at him. “What? No, why the hell would you think—”

“Because the only time Mom packs a bag is when she goes to see Sean, and the only time you pack a bag is to go see Grandma, and she’s in Florida.”

I let out a low sigh because this is not the conversation I wanted to have this morning.

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend,” I say, trying to sound as unbothered as possible.

“Oh,” he says. “Why not?”

I brush past his question, not because I don’t want to answer it, but because I don’t know what to say. I haven’t seriously dated anyone since before Amelia, and in all honesty, we never really dated. We were two friends who got drunk at a party and hooked up, and I got her pregnant. We got married. We had Maddox. We got divorced. In college, I was focused on my scholarship and being single. And after the divorce, I wasn’t exactly looking for a second shot at failure.

“Alright, buddy, I’ll see you Monday, okay? Try not to give your mom too much trouble.” I smile at him.

He rolls his eyes, just as I see Sean and Amelia come around the side of the house. I lean out the side of my Jeep and whisper to Maddox.

“But feel free to give Sean Jean as much trouble as you like.” I wink at him, and he laughs as Sean waves at me. I give him a small wave back as Maddox runs up to his mother.

I don’t hate the guy or anything. He’s nice enough, I guess, though I don’t know him well enough to say we could be friends. But as long as he treats Maddox alright, I’m good. I don’t need the guy to be my best friend. I already have one of those. And I’m looking forward to spending the day with him. And almost as if the man can read my mind, I get a text from him.

Dre: Just come around back when you get here.

I shoot off a thumbs up text before I pull out of the driveway and head over to Dre’s. Thankfully, it’s not busy at this time of the day, so I don’t hit much traffic and end up making it there at precisely one on the nose. I can’t help but marvel at how perfect his house looks. The yard, the porch, and the landscaping look like something right off a postage stamp. Though there’s this weird feeling in my stomach I can’t seem to shake, almost like nerves. Maybe I’m just feeling off because Maddox caught me off guard with the girlfriend question. Did he ask because he wants me to get one, or because he doesn’t? Yeah, it’s definitely his question that’s throwing me.

I grab my duffel and make my way around the back, just like he said to, and I have to do a double take. The light blue pool water glitters from the sun as a few rafts float about—a pizza slice, a donut, and a big unicorn that you can ride. There’s a fire pit that wasn’t there the last time I was here, just off to the side, surrounded by loungers and chairs. But what hits me more than how beautiful the scene itself is, is the smell of burgers and hot dogs on the grill.

My gaze trails over the yard as I pull on the strap of my duffel, to find Dre, standing there in his trunks with his back to me, flipping fucking burgers.

I don’t know if it’s just the sun or his natural tan, but I can see every corded muscle in his back. He’s always been a fit guy, which I can respect. But then again, he has to be, considering he has to keep up with the players and set an example. The only example I’m setting is for teenagers who are more concerned about what water bottle they can show off in class rather than how many push-ups they can do or how fast they can run.

“Hey,” I call out, and he turns to look over his shoulder. Immediately, I notice the way his eyebrows raise and the smile forms on his face. Like he’s genuinely happy to see me, even though it’s only been a week since we hung out last.

It somehow feels like no time at all and too long all at once as my stomach settles.

“Hey,” he says, smirking before bringing his attention back to the grill.

“Getting the party started without me?” I tease as I come up behind him. I glance over his shoulder at the row of burgers and dogs, which look about half-way done.

“Well, you are late,” he says, but his tone is light, humorous.

“Am not. I pulled in at exactly one o’clock. Like I said.” The heat from the grill makes me sweat a little, and my eyes water.

“Uh huh. Sure.” He nods towards the door on the back porch. “Can you grab the fruit and the salad from the kitchen island?”

“Fruit and salad, huh?” I tease. “Boy, you really pulled out the big guns today.”

“Shut up,” he says with a laugh, and I do as he asks, heading into the house.

It’s huge, and somehow looks even larger because it’s so clean and bright. Not to mention the main level doesn’t have a lot going on in terms of color or decor, which is surprising. But then again, maybe that’s on purpose. I drop my bag off on one of the chairs at the island and see not just a salad and a big tray of fruit, but there’s also a cheese and pepperoni board—at least, I think there is pepperoni on there—and a giant hummus platter with veggies and pita chips.

Did he seriously get all this for just us?