30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Paul
I can’t remember the last time the day dragged like this. I swear even though it’s only Thursday, it feels like this week alone has been a year long.
To be fair, it’s partially my fault for keeping my mouth shut, but what was I supposed to do when Dre asked me if he should go to this interview? No?
How could I fucking do that, when I know better than anyone that New Haven would be perfect for him?
I can’t.
I can’t be the reason he goes against what I know he wants. I won’t be that reason.
But that doesn’t mean I want him to go, and I know that makes me selfish, and I hate it.
I hate that I want this for him, because I know it’s what he wants, even if he doesn’t say anything.
I hate that I want him to choose me, instead. But I can’t help it, either, and so of course, I told him to go.
I’ve always backed him up, ever since we were in college. We’ve always been playing for the same team, no matter what. But now…
Now I feel like somewhere along the way, one of us got drafted and then suddenly the team wasn’t ours anymore.
I blow the whistle louder than I should and holler for the kids to head downstairs and get changed. They disperse like a school of fish, the heavy footfalls of kids stampeding down the steps and doors slamming echoing in the gymnasium.
I sit on the stage, slip my phone out—which we’re not supposed to have on us during class with the kids—and check my messages.
Nothing.
No text, no missed phone call…
Just nothing.
That absence of communication stings like a bitch, because it tells me everything I need to know.
It tells me what he’s choosing. And it’s not me.
Though there’s a faint glimmer of hope in my chest that maybe I’m overthinking things, being irrational.
Maybe he’s just tired.
Maybe they are behind schedule.
Maybe he’s stuck in traffic or maybe he’s signing the paperwork right now and he’ll put his two weeks in tomorrow.
And leave me, and everything we’ve built behind like he did before.
When we graduated from college, I expected us all to scatter.
Alex just signed to the Rioters, Austen just got married, Trey got scooped up by the nutrition company, Hudson stayed behind, and Andre had just interviewed for the Cougars, thinking it was a long shot.
It was. Fresh out of college, no experience?
Landing a big name like the California Cougars?
Shit, those kinds of gigs don’t go to fresh blood like us, but…
I knew then he was capable, and if anyone deserved that kind of gig, that kind of spotlight, it was Andre.
And me?
My dreams of playing professionally or doing something worthwhile were shot to shit because I had a baby on the way, and so I had to put whatever goals or dreams I had aside to do the right thing.
Marry Amelia and take care of my family when I didn’t even know how to take care of myself.
For a while, I felt like that was okay. Things weren’t easy for Amelia and I. We struggled, but we loved Maddox, and I loved my family, even if it wasn’t perfect. I thought I was doing everything I was supposed to be doing.
Seeing Dre when he’d stop for visits became a highlight, because at least when he came by, I felt like myself. Not stressed or overwhelmed or insecure.
But eventually things changed, and those visits became more than highlights.
They were glimmers of light in a darkness that threatened to consume me.
Dre was my lighthouse, and I was his. I knew that.
I knew we both longed for the next time the light would shine.
So we could see the shore again, but those moments became farther and fewer because he fell in love with Victoria, and then she became his beacon.
And I was happy for him, because I know how happy he was with her.
How hard he fell. How much he loved her, and Rylee…
And then Andre’s dreams were shattered, his entire life splintered into a million shards when he came home to find his happy ever after was over.
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.
I hear the softest sound a moment later, and turn to see Rylee, rubbing her eyes.
“Hey, princess, you okay?” I ask, trying to hide the upset in my voice.
She quietly crawls up onto the couch next to me and leans against me.
“I can’t sleep.”
She curls close to me, and my heart breaks.
“You miss your Daddy, don’t you?” I ask, trying my hardest to remain calm. Neutral.
I don’t need Rylee to get upset because she sees me upset.
She nods and then she wraps one small arm across my stomach and hugs me.
“I don’t like when he leaves,” she says softly.
I pull her close to me, and rub her shoulders, the tears begging to be freed from my eyes.
“Me, either, but you know what?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“What?”
“He always comes back for you.”
The words are the hardest I’ve ever had to speak, because I know he will come back.
For her.
And then he’ll leave with her, too, and a new surge of heartache forms.
Because she’s his daughter, not mine.
Though I can’t say I don’t love her, too, like she is. And Maddox…
How in the hell do I break that kind of news to him?
“Can I sleep here?” she asks, and I hear the sadness in her voice.
“Of course, sweetheart,” I say as I reach for the blanket behind us and do my best to cover her with it.
“Good night, Rylee,” I tell her, my chest tight, but she is already starting to fall asleep.
So I close my eyes, and suck in a breath and enjoy the moment because I know soon enough it’ll slip through my fingers.
When I wake in the morning, my back is killing me. That’s what I get for sleeping on the couch. I get Rylee up, make breakfast, drop her off at school, and then head to work, feeling like absolute shit.
I keep waiting for my phone to ring. For Dre to text me. Something. But just like yesterday, nothing comes through, and that is perhaps more telling than anything else.
The only call I get is the elementary school nurse calling to tell me Rylee is sick with a stomach thing and needs to be picked up.
I wish I could get her, comfort her, but I can’t exactly leave work. I still have several classes and study halls, and finding a sub this late, even if I could get a teacher to cover me, is pushing it.
Which is why I call Mr. and Mrs. Taylor and ask them if they can pick her up, which they agree to. Mrs. Taylor says she’ll keep her for the weekend, just to make sure she doesn’t get the rest of the house sick.
I have to fight back the urge to cry, but somehow I manage.
I want to ask if she’s heard from Dre, but I also don’t want to sound like some insecure, obsessive asshole, so I don’t.
Instead, I thank her and then return to my job until it’s time to get Maddox.