From Our First: A Promise Me Novel

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  “If you love me, that means you’re going to be hurt even more when this breaks apart. You can’t love me. We have to be friends. That’s the only way we can’t be hurt.”

  “That’s a fucking lie. Because it hurts right now, Myra.” That was an understatement. It felt as if she’d sliced me with her words, each one cutting and baring part of me I could never hide again.

  And the thing was…I knew she was only doing it to hurt herself. This wasn’t about me. This was about her and her pain. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see a way through it.

  “Why is this so hard for you?” I said again. “Why can’t you think through what your parents are doing to you? They’re not pulling us apart right now. You’re doing it.”

  “I’m not ready, Nate. I can’t be on your timetable. I need to think things through and try to make sure that nobody gets hurt in the end. Because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

  “What do you think love is? It’s that big breath you take when you’re finally able to trust that someone will always be there for you.”

  “But nobody’s ever been there for me before,” she shouted back. “How am I supposed to believe in that now? Why can’t we just take some more time to be sure? I need to be sure.”

  “You’re not making any fucking sense.”

  “We thought we loved each other before, Nate. But we didn’t trust each other enough to believe in that. I don’t want to make that mistake again. If we cut ties and not let our relationship move forward now, then we can still be in each other’s lives. No one has to get broken from this.”

  “Are you even hearing yourself? You don’t even make any sense.”

  “I have to make sense. I care about you, Nate. I don’t want to lose the family that we’ve made. But if my parents do something or figure out what your feelings truly are, it’ll be harder to walk away later.”

  “Seriously, are you listening to yourself?”

  “Stop pushing me. I can’t be on your timetable.”

  “Then I need to go. Because I fucking love you, and apparently, you don’t love me.”

  “Nate.”

  “No. Once you figure out what the fuck you’re thinking, I might be around. But you’re wrong. If we decide to leave each other now or later, it’s going to hurt no matter what. There’s no hiding from that.”

  “Then why were we even together in the first place?”

  “I’m starting to question that, too.”

  She covered her face with her hands, her whole body shaking. “We fell into this, and it’s moved quickly. Why can’t we simply take some time to breathe and figure out exactly what we’re feeling without all of the mess of hormones, need, and lust?”

  “Because feelings don’t work like that, Myra. You can’t all be icy and cold and practical when it comes to emotions.”

  She took a step back as if I’d hit her, and I cursed under my breath. “Myra…”

  “No, you should go. Because we’re doing what I knew we would. We’re lashing out, and hurting each other. And I want to like you in the end, Nathan. You should go. So I can still like you.”

  “Myra. I love you.”

  “And I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Then why are we already lost?” I asked and then turned on my heel and left.

  Chapter 19

  Myra

  * * *

  The idea that I could make a mistake so severe in such a short period of time shouldn’t surprise me. I had done it before, after all. And yet, all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and pretend that I hadn’t pushed away the man I thought I loved. I was so stressed out and worried about what might come that I forgot to look at what was right in front of me. I needed to fix that.

  Nate had left the night before, and I had sat in my studio on my little couch, crying until I had nothing left in me. The girls had texted, but I didn’t think they knew anything. Nate wouldn’t have told his brothers—wouldn’t have told anyone. He would have hidden himself away in his house and cuddled Daisy as he tried to deal with his emotions. The idea that I knew so much about him and yet couldn’t trust his feelings or my own shamed me.

  I had made a mistake, and I needed to stand up and say that I was sorry. I needed to tell him that I cared for him. Did I love him? That was the problem. I thought I did, and yet it was all tangled up in everything I had felt for him before, and all of that dissolved into a churning emotion that I couldn’t quite name.

  I didn’t want to tell him that I loved him only to realize I didn’t. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.

  But it was cruel for me to throw his love back at him and tell him that he was wrong as I pretended that we could find our way out of the ashes and embers whole.

  I should have told him that I needed more time, but I still wanted to be with him. Instead, I’d gotten scared and pushed him away completely. That was what the cold and calculating Myra did. But the warm Myra who had married Nate hadn’t been silly and stupid like that. She had believed in what she felt.

  I needed to trust that person again.

  I trusted Nate. I didn’t trust myself, however.

  I had to make sure he understood that. And so, I would go to him. I would tell him I was sorry about what happened last night and say that I wanted more time. That I never wanted to hurt him.

  I hoped like hell he would forgive me.

  My phone rang, and I frowned and looked down at the readout.

  It was my lawyer. Dread pooled in my belly.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  “Hello, Ms. West?”

  “You can call me Myra.” We had been talking practically daily at this point.

  He let out a rough chuckle. He didn’t sound too worried. I had to hope that was a good thing. “I wanted to let you know that the case isn’t going through.”

  I frowned, trying to understand what he was saying. “My family dropped the case?” I asked, trying not to hope.

  “It seems their lawyer doesn’t want to pursue it. I don’t know all of the circumstances, and I’m going to get them to you as soon as I do know, but they’re not filing any claims. I have a feeling that when they talked to whoever finally looked at what they were dealing with, they decided it would be a lost cause.”

  Relief filled me, but I didn’t want to believe it. “Are you sure?” I asked, a coppery taste on my tongue. It was stress, I knew that, but I felt like I might throw up.

  “They can still file to contest the will through another lawyer, but their current attorney has dropped the case. That means, for now, we’re going forward with everything. We’re doing everything by the book, but you and Lacey, as well as the others in the will, should be fine.”

  “What? I can’t believe their lawyer would tell them to drop it.”

  “He was also your grandmother’s lawyer in California. She may have had someone here to handle the will, but he worked closely with her in California. He likely knew everything, and because he couldn’t tell his clients, your parents are now realizing they don’t have a leg to stand on. They may try for something later, but for now, you’re free and clear. I know we have a lot to discuss with the estate and the charities and other things on the docket, and we’ll get there eventually. But you’re not alone in this, Myra. I just wanted to let you know.”

  I said a few words, thanking him and saying I would be in touch soon. And then, I tried to catch my breath.

  I wasn’t alone.

  He’d said the words, and they were true.

  Oh, my parents would keep trying to take what Grandma Sharon left. They would do something. And they would never go away, even if I cut all ties to them. But this was one small victory, a bit of the weight off my shoulders.

  I felt like I could breathe again, and it reminded me how much of an idiot I was when it came to Nate.

  I needed to tell him about this. I needed to tell him so much.

  I looked down at my phone, considered texting him to say I was on my way over, but I didn’t w
ant him to push me away. Instead, I pulled out my purse and tucked my feet into my shoes. I would meet him at his house and find a way to grovel. He had been the one to grovel before. Now, it was my turn.

  I only hoped he didn’t hate me. I couldn’t go back to the feelings we’d had before. The animosity between us. It wouldn’t be good for either of us—or the family we had made.

  The doorbell rang, and my heart flew into my throat. Was it Nate? I hoped to hell it was.

  I practically ran to the front door and pulled it open with a flourish, but it wasn’t him.

  “Roland?”

  “Hey, cuz. We need to talk.” He pushed his way into my living room, knocking me back slightly as he did. I staggered. He closed the door behind him and locked it, and fear crawled up my spine.

  “Roland, you need to go. I did not say you could enter my home.”

  “Your home. Your will. Everything is all yours. Just like it’s always been. Miss perfect Myra. She gets everything she wants. I’m not surprised that this went in your favor. You probably blew the judge and the lawyers and everybody else to get what you wanted. You’ve always been good on your knees.”

  I grimaced, shaking my head. “I don’t know where you’re getting this, but you need to go. I know you’re angry, but this has nothing to do with me.”

  He moved forward so quickly I almost missed it. His arm lashed out, and he hit my cheek hard. I moved back, falling to the floor. My phone fell out of my hands, skidding across the hardwood. I reached up and cupped my face, the sting shocking, the skin warm.

  “Did you…hit me?” I asked, gasping.

  “Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. How dare you? How dare you leave this family and think you can have everything. I don’t know what you said to our dear old grandmother, but you are not taking this from me. I need that money. And now, I have nothing. All because you are a fucking whore.”

  He lashed out again, but this time, I covered my face, blocking him.

  “Stop it. Go away.”

  I moved to get my phone, but he shoved me. I fell to my knees, the wood sending pinpricks of pain through my body. My wrist turned, and I fell, screaming out in pain as my shoulder hit the floor.

  I scrambled up, ignoring the pain in my shoulder and wrist and knee. “What is wrong with you?”

  “You’ve taken everything from me. I need that money. Without it, I’m broke. I tried to make you understand before, but you didn’t listen. I even thought if I could get you out of the way when I ran that stop sign, it would help, but it didn’t. Then, when I saw you at the concert? I figured I’d find a way to make you see reason. How the hell am I supposed to survive on nothing? You took everything, and now you’re going to pay.”

  There was madness in his eyes, a darkness that was unlike anything I had ever seen before. He’d tried to hurt me? All those times I’d thought I’d only been seeing things, but he’d been right there. Waiting. Watching. Trying to hurt me.

  I struggled to get up again, then pushed at him, kicking at him with my high heel. He groaned, slapping at me, but I was faster than he was this time. He blocked the front door, but I could still go out the back. I ran, looking for my phone but unable to reach it. I had a landline back there if I could get to it. I needed to get away from Roland. Call the authorities. Do something.

  He was twice my size, and so much stronger. I wasn’t able to fight back effectively, but I could run.

  And so, I did, my heels slamming against the wood and then the tile as I made my way to the other side of the house.

  But Roland was faster. He tugged at my hair, and I screamed. I fell back, my head slamming against the tile as he pushed and shoved.

  My mouth went dry, and I closed my eyes, the world spinning. I tried to get up, but then he was there, and I saw a flash of something bright in front of my eyes. Suddenly, a searing pain shocked my system.

  Warmth spread over my flesh, and I looked down at my forearm, feeling as if I were watching a movie instead of living this. I quickly clamped my hand over the bleeding wound. Roland had cut me with the butcher knife from my kitchen, a long line running from my elbow to my wrist, and it was deep enough that I was afraid I could see bone.

  I gagged, bile filling my throat as the pain set in, and shock slammed into me.

  “Look at what you made me do. I didn’t mean to do that, Myra. But you were so fast. I only wanted to threaten you. Jesus Christ, Myra. Look what you made me do.”

  I was shaking, my back against the wall as I scooted away from him, trying to stop the bleeding. But it wouldn’t stop. It kept coming. I didn’t think he had nicked an artery because it wasn’t spurting, but it was bad. Fucking bad. Blood seeped out from between my fingers, and the pressure I applied wasn’t enough. Roland threw a towel at my face. I took it like a lifeline and pressed it to the wound, trying to wrap it around my arm.

  “You need to stop the bleeding and be okay. You need to be able to sign over the money to me.”

  I looked at him as he ran his hands over his face, the knife still clutched in his hand, the blade pointed outwards. My blood coated it.

  I looked down at my wound and then turned to the side and threw up what little I’d had that morning for breakfast.

  “You’re disgusting. What the hell, Myra? Why did you make me do this?”

  I couldn’t wipe my face, but I tried to push the pain from my mind and focus. I needed to remain calm. It was the only way I could survive. “Please, call an ambulance. We’ll tell them it was an accident. I swear I will say everything was an accident and you didn’t mean to cut me. But I need to go to the hospital. Please, Roland. You didn’t mean to do this.”

  “This is all your fault. They’re going to blame me, but it’s all your fault.”

  “You’re right, it is my fault,” I lied, my vision going blurry. “It’s all my fault. All you need to do is call them and tell them it’s my fault. I will agree. I’ll be the one who goes to jail and everything. I just need you to call the hospital.”

  I was losing too much blood, and I could barely breathe.

  Roland looked at me and nodded tightly. “Yes, that’s what we’ll tell them. And you’ll give me the money?”

  “Of course, I’ll give you the money. I’ll give you anything. Please, call an ambulance.”

  “Myra?”

  I froze as I looked into Roland’s eyes. Suddenly, the world went quiet.

  Nate had come into the studio, maybe thinking I would still be there. I had forgotten that door, everything coming at me so quickly.

  Roland’s back was to Nate, but as he turned, Nate’s eyes went wide, and Roland slashed.

  “Myra,” Nate shouted and then grunted as he leaned forward, holding his hand over a cut in his side.

  “No!” I said and tried to scramble up. I crawled over to them and pushed myself toward Roland’s legs. Roland and Nate fought each other, both of them trying to go for the knife, but I moved more strategically, using what little strength I had, and took Roland out at the knees. Nate pushed, and then there was screaming, a sound that would echo in my dreams for however many moments I had left. And then Roland stopped making any noise at all. I looked down at the blade buried partway into Roland’s chest and then at Nate, who was on his knees in front of me.

  “Myra. Myra, don’t go.”

  “Nate.”

  I looked at him, tried to reach for him, but my arms weren’t moving.

  Nate was saying something, doing something with his phone, maybe. I didn’t know.

  I tried to tell him that I loved him. That I was sorry. But no words came out.

  Instead, I closed my eyes, and I rested on Nate’s chest.

  And warmth slid over me.

  Chapter 20

  Nate

  * * *

  “It’s getting damn exhausting coming back to this place,” Cross said as he looked around the small hospital room.

  I nodded, leaning back and trying not to move my side too much. “I have to tell you, I don’t
really like being back in this bed. It might’ve been a few years, but I’m over getting stitches.”

  Cross winced. “Is it bad that I didn’t even think about your accident when I mentioned that?”

  I shook my head and then winced. I was grateful for the pain meds they had given me. I had a headache from hell thanks to the stress and adrenaline of seeing Myra on the floor like that. And, of course, from the slice to my side. I needed a little bit of rest—and to see Myra.

  “No, I get you. I was thinking about the fact that every single one of us has been in the hospital for something or other recently. All of it added up is a bit much.”

  “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He paused. “And Myra’s going to be fine.”

  I opened my eyes to look at my brother, my throat going dry. “She’s really going to be okay? It’s not only the doctors telling Paris, and therefore Paris telling you random things to placate me?”

  “Paris is on Myra’s emergency contact list. The doctors told her everything. She’s out of surgery now, and she’s going to be fine. She’ll probably have to go through some rehab and physical therapy for her arm, but they don’t think she’s going to lose any range of motion or sensation.”

  “It was her left arm, at least. Not the one she paints with,” I said softly.

  “Jesus. I didn’t even think about that. You and I aren’t firing on all cylinders tonight.”

  “A knife wound or two will do that to you.” I paused. “She’s not going to wake up alone, is she? She feels alone enough as it is. She can’t wake up alone.”

  “One of the girls will be there. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  “We both know that’s all I’m going to do.”

  “I know. That’s what we do. I’m pretty sure we’re going to have to get a hospital wing here, though, because this is exhausting.”

  “I’m sorry we got stabbed. I know it must be hard on you,” I said, only a little bite in my tone.

  “Take it out on me. The more you do, the easier it’ll be when you get out of here and don’t have all this rage inside you.”