From Our First: A Promise Me Novel

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  From Our First

  A Promise Me Novel

  Carrie Ann Ryan

  Contents

  Untitled

  FROM OUR FIRST

  Far From Destined

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  A Note from Carrie Ann Ryan

  About the Author

  Also from Carrie Ann Ryan

  Untitled

  FROM OUR

  FROM OUR FIRST

  A PROMISE ME NOVEL

  By

  Carrie Ann Ryan

  FROM OUR FIRST

  A Promise Me Novel

  By: Carrie Ann Ryan

  © 2020 Carrie Ann Ryan

  ISBN: 978-1-947007-98-7

  Cover Art by Sweet N Spicy Designs

  Photograph by Wander Photography

  * * *

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person or use proper retail channels to lend a copy. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

  Praise for Carrie Ann Ryan

  “Count on Carrie Ann Ryan for emotional, sexy, character driven stories that capture your heart!” – Carly Phillips, NY Times bestselling author

  “Carrie Ann Ryan’s romances are my newest addiction! The emotion in her books captures me from the very beginning. The hope and healing hold me close until the end. These love stories will simply sweep you away.” ~ NYT Bestselling Author Deveny Perry

  "Carrie Ann Ryan writes the perfect balance of sweet and heat ensuring every story feeds the soul." - Audrey Carlan, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author

  “Carrie Ann Ryan never fails to draw readers in with passion, raw sensuality, and characters that pop off the page. Any book by Carrie Ann is an absolute treat.” – New York Times Bestselling Author J. Kenner

  “Carrie Ann Ryan knows how to pull your heartstrings and make your pulse pound! Her wonderful Redwood Pack series will draw you in and keep you reading long into the night. I can’t wait to see what comes next with the new generation, the Talons. Keep them coming, Carrie Ann!” –Lara Adrian, New York Times bestselling author of CRAVE THE NIGHT

  "With snarky humor, sizzling love scenes, and brilliant, imaginative worldbuilding, The Dante's Circle series reads as if Carrie Ann Ryan peeked at my personal wish list!" – NYT Bestselling Author, Larissa Ione

  "Carrie Ann Ryan writes sexy shifters in a world full of passionate happily-ever-afters." – New York Times Bestselling Author Vivian Arend

  “Carrie Ann’s books are sexy with characters you can’t help but love from page one. They are heat and heart blended to perfection.” New York Times Bestselling Author Jayne Rylon

  Carrie Ann Ryan's books are wickedly funny and deliciously hot, with plenty of twists to keep you guessing. They'll keep you up all night!” USA Today Bestselling Author Cari Quinn

  "Once again, Carrie Ann Ryan knocks the Dante's Circle series out of the park. The queen of hot, sexy, enthralling paranormal romance, Carrie Ann is an author not to miss!" New York Times bestselling Author Marie Harte

  To Chelle.

  Never change.

  Far From Destined

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Carrie Ann Ryan concludes her steamy contemporary stand-alone series with a secret that no one saw coming.

  Nate Brady and Myra West have been keeping a secret, though not just from their group—also from each other. Getting married when they were barely adults wasn’t in the cards when they made their plans for their future. Divorcing one another amidst pain and heartbreak wasn’t either.

  Years have passed, wounds have scabbed over and scarred, but their anger remains.

  If the two can open themselves to the impossible, they might be able to take that second chance. Only they’ll also have to fight their fears, the lies between them, and the desire they thought long gone.

  Except they aren’t alone in their secrets, and if they aren’t careful, they may just be taking them to their graves.

  Prologue

  Myra

  The moment I met Nathan, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life without him. Only it hadn’t worked out the way I’d wanted to.

  Nothing had worked out the way I’d wanted it to.

  My heels echoed on the hardwood as I made my way toward where I’d seen the person in question slink off. For a man usually the face of the party, I was surprised that he wasn’t smiling with the others and acting as if he weren’t a giant, selfish asshole with more barbs than heart.

  I held back a sigh, knowing those thoughts were only part of the reason I needed to find him.

  We couldn’t go on living this way.

  I missed sleep. I missed my perfectly ordered life where I could pretend that the world wasn’t horrible, and I hadn’t shattered into a thousand pieces thanks to a calm cruelty that had shocked me to my very core.

  And that meant I had to work with the man who haunted my days and threatened the peace of my nights.

  I passed the others that I knew were related to Nate through marriage somehow and nodded, trying to smile with my eyes since my clenched jaw wouldn’t allow anything else.

  They wouldn’t see the ice queen.

  Good.

  I needed Nate to see that queen, though.

  She could wrap herself in armor. Could protect herself.

  I needed to be that other me.

  I turned the corner and spotted him in the library. He rubbed his temple before turning to me. A small part of me wanted to reach out and see if I could do something for his pain.

  But I wasn’t that girl anymore.

  And he’d never been that boy.

  I let the ice queen reign.

  “We need to talk.”

  Nate looked up at me, and I raised a brow, so tired of the clutch in my belly at the sight of him. “Do we?”

  “You know why, Nathan.”

  “I honestly don’t.”

  He lied. He had to. And I hated him for it. I loathed how he made me feel. The way he’d once been my everything. I hated him more with each passing day.

  And what was worse, I despised the idea that he made me hate myself.

  “Yes, we do, husband.”

  Nate flinched and looked past me as if to see if anyone were near. What would he do if someone overheard? If they knew the truth of my greatest mistake? “Don’t fucking call me that.”

  I raised my chin, narrowing my eyes at the man who’d broken me. “Fine. Ex-husband. Whatever title you want to use. But we’re going to talk.”

  Chapter 1

  Myra

  * * *

  “That’s crap. Complete and utter crap.” I set down my paintbrush and looked at the canvas in front of me, cursing out loud. “Complete shit.”

 
There was nobody in my studio so I could curse, shout, and act as unladylike as I wanted.

  However, I still looked over my shoulder as if afraid my mother would show up out of the blue just to see what I was doing. I had a feeling she knew the precise moment I cursed—when I had a drink…or three.

  She probably also knew every time that I had sex, not that that was very often. Or any time in recent memory.

  I frowned and looked down at my fingers, trying to do the math. No, I wouldn’t think about that. I might be dusty and a little like a forgotten cavern, but I was still a woman. Sexy. And I was running late. Hence the cursing.

  My ringer had gone off on my phone, the final alarm that told me that I absolutely had to be out the door in ten minutes if I had any chance of making my coffee date at the Boulder Bean.

  I looked at my canvas, at the portrait of colors before me, and shook my head.

  I wasn’t in it. I couldn’t feel the piece.

  Not that it mattered. I still had time to work on my next project. My art made me a nice living, yet I knew it was my investments and my trust fund that had gotten me where I was now.

  And my mother never let me forget that.

  I shook my head at the thought of her. Twice in one meltdown. I needed to get my mother out of my head.

  And I honestly did not want to go to the Boulder Bean. My best friends would be there, sure, but I knew what they were waiting for. Me. And it was all my fault. I was Icarus, had flown far too close to the sun. I was the reason for my personal downfall. I had pushed the others far too hard in our pact, and now it was my turn.

  Of course, I hadn’t thought we’d get this far. I’d figured once the straws were drawn, we wouldn’t actually go through with the rest of the deal. I didn’t think I would be forced on a blind date with a stranger when I wasn’t even sure what I wanted in the first place. The gods of fate had blessed me with being fourth in line for this ridiculous pact of ours, but somehow, the farce had become truth.

  And now, it was my turn.

  I wasn’t going. I could stay home and hide from the world—something I was getting far too good at these days.

  I cleaned up my brushes and the rest of my area before I washed my hands and took off my painting smock. I still wore a decent outfit underneath, and because I hadn’t been painting very well, I hadn’t gotten a single spot on me. That probably meant I’d only been staring at the canvas and its few brush strokes and doing my best to forget why I was so stressed out.

  I did not want to go on a blind date.

  I couldn’t.

  If I were to go, that meant I would need to be across from somebody at a table, eating a meal. I would have to get to know them. I would need to speak to the person in front of me and tell them my fears and my likes and dislikes.

  I felt as if I didn’t know what those were. Or maybe I didn’t know what I should like to please others. And since that wasn’t in my wheelhouse, I was floundering. I knew what I liked. I was very particular. Everybody thought Paris was the careful planner, but they were wrong. I was the one firm in my decisions and steadfast in my needs.

  I had changed the course of my life when my heart was shattered into a million pieces.

  I was not going to think about that, though. I would push him from my mind.

  No, not him. He did not exist.

  I wasn’t going to think about him at all.

  Damn it, now I was thinking about him. Of his hazel eyes and dark hair. I would not think about that chiseled jaw. Or the fact that he had filled out since we first met. No, I would not think about that. Because if I did, I might as well just shove that paint scraper right into my eye and call it a day.

  My phone buzzed, and I looked down at it.

  Of course, it wasn’t a text. Of course, my friend would call so I had to be careful with my voice and my answers. It wouldn’t matter in the end anyway, because she’d be able to read me regardless.

  “Hello there, Paris. How are you today?” I asked, putting on my best voice.

  “I’m probably doing much better than you are, Ms. Myra.”

  “Why, whatever do you mean?”

  “Do not take that lady of the manor tone with me. You might be a rich girl, but I have the power here.”

  I inwardly cringed at that because I didn’t like the fact that she was right. She did have all the power, and I was a little rich girl.

  I was the friend with the trust fund, the pearls around her neck when she turned ten who had gone off to boarding school and then been offered entrance into every single Ivy League college I wanted to attend.

  My one act of rebellion had turned into a horrendous mistake for everybody involved and was a complete breach of trust.

  I was everything Paris thought I was—and the worst version of it.

  “Why am I like this?” I asked myself, not realizing that I had said the words out loud until Paris snorted over the phone.

  “You’re like this because you’re scared. Remember, I have the power.” Paris laughed. “I’m sure you look wonderful as always. Now, slip your feet out of your work shoes and into those sexy yet casual heels you wear whenever you’re in the coffee shop, grab your purse, and get your ass over here. It is your turn, and we are not going to let you get out of this.”

  I winced, trying to think of a way out of this reality. “I think after everything that’s happened with our crew, our sisterhood, maybe it’s time to take a step back and reaffirm what we have.”

  “No, no. Save all of your backpedaling for when you’re in front of us. You know I don’t care.”

  “Paris,” I said, shocked and yet not even a little bit surprised.

  “Don’t Paris me. You pushed me into this pact, and I went on some seriously horrendous dates.”

  “But you got the love of your life out of the deal, so it worked out.” I shut my mouth even as the words fell from my lips. Why had I said that? Maybe because I always had to be right. Because I had to prove to Paris that pushing her into the pact had been good for her.

  And now it was going to bite me on the ass.

  Damn it.

  “We’re not even going to dignify that with a response, are we? Especially considering you helped my case and all. You’re going to get your ass over here, and we’re going to figure out what we need to do with you, Ms. Myra, darling.”

  “Paris.”

  “Nope. Get dressed, or we will come to you. We will circle you like vultures. Happy and in love vultures, waiting for you to take the next step. You pushed us into this, Myra. And now it’s your turn.”

  Paris let out a cackle and then hung up the phone.

  I just blinked down at the black screen and shook my head.

  “Overdramatic much?” I asked.

  A text popped up on the screen.

  Paris: Yes, that was overdramatic, but I’ve been practicing my evil witch laugh, and I think I have it down. Now, get your ass over here. Immediately. Or I’m going to send a certain someone over there to pick you up, and it’s not going to be one of us girls.

  I froze. I knew exactly who she’d send over here. And it wouldn’t be one of the men my best friends had fallen in love with. It wouldn’t be another friend or a casual coworker.

  No, it would be the one person that I could not be in the same room with. Despite our tentative truce, I knew Paris would get what she wanted.

  She’d get under my skin, ruffle my feathers, and do all of the other metaphors out there to piss me the fuck off.

  I had to do this. I could do this. A couple of dates, a few cute and casual glasses of wine with some very handsome men—hopefully, ones that didn’t talk about their mothers all the time, and didn’t have a Dexter basement full of tarps and easily accessible chainsaws.

  I shivered at that thought and had to tell myself once again not to have that image. I’d only made it three episodes into the series before I had to stop watching it because of the nightmares. Now, they would all come back.

  Maybe I could w
atch a marathon of Dexter instead of going out and dating. Yes, that sounded like a much better idea.

  Paris: I know you’re spiraling right now, and I don’t know where you’re going in that mind of yours, but I’m sure it’s scary and probably has an ax murderer in it.

  I was a little worried about how well Paris knew me at this point. If I was at all attracted to her, maybe I should’ve dated her.

  Of course, Paris was happy and in love with Prior. And, really, I should get over myself. But, seriously. It was a little spooky.

  Me: Okay, I will change into my shoes and come over. But no shenanigans.

  Paris: Honey, you’re about to get all the shenanigans. You earned it.

  I sighed, cursing at myself. This whole situation was my fault. I did deserve this. All of it. I just really hated that I had no control.

  Our friend Dakota owned the Boulder Bean, a cute little coffee shop and bakery right in the heart of Boulder. I loved this area. Even though it wasn’t my hometown, I had made it my home.

  The city was filled with every type of person you could possibly imagine.

  The business executive on his way to a meeting. Of course, that guy probably had a mountain home or liked to snowboard or wasn’t exactly the New York or LA kind of guy I was used to in my past.