Forever Only Once: A Promise Me Novel

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  No one was in the room with me, so I didn’t know how it had all turned out. Didn’t know if he was even out of surgery yet. Was Macon out and healthy, or would the Bradys have to say goodbye to their son?

  To their brother. Their friend.

  The detectives had told me that Cross was in surgery too, another doctor sewing up one of that family. Of everyone in that cabin, I was the only one without a bullet in my body.

  It didn’t matter that I had bruised ribs, or that I was lucky I hadn’t broken my cheekbone or my jaw. It didn’t matter that I would have a black eye for a week or that my entire body felt as if I had been pummeled over and over.

  It didn’t matter that I had bandages around my wrists from where I had pulled against my restraints so hard that the ropes had dug into my skin, leaving bloody gashes behind.

  None of that mattered.

  Here I was, healthy and whole, but I was a murderer.

  Others were dying or dead because of me.

  And I had no idea how to change that.

  “I’m fine,” I said, though I knew it was a lie.

  My voice was hoarse, my tongue swollen from when I’d bitten it during the fall.

  I would have to get my hair cut because Chris and Thomas had pulled so hard that I had lost clumps, my scalp bloody from it.

  All these things spun in my head at the same time, and I couldn’t focus.

  “What are you thinking about?” Dakota asked, moving toward me.

  I raised my chin slightly and tried to act like I was steady.

  I didn’t even know what the word meant anymore.

  “I want to go home,” I whispered.

  And hide there until I could breathe again. Could think.

  “You can do that soon. They’re going to let you out since you don’t need to be held for observation. But let’s talk about it. Or not. Whatever you need, we’re here.”

  I looked at Myra, and I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think.

  “I just want to go home,” I repeated.

  “We’re here for you. We love you.”

  I shook my head.

  “He got hurt because of me,” I whispered.

  “Cross? No,” Paris snapped.

  “He got hurt because of that asshole,” she growled. I flinched at her tone.

  Myra and Dakota both gave her admonishing looks, but Paris didn’t back down.

  “No. You’re not going to blame yourself for this. What happened is not your fault. This is all on Thomas. Not you.”

  “I know,” I lied.

  I didn’t know if they believed me, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to be alone. I needed to make sure Cross and Macon were out of surgery, that there would be no ill effects. That they would be able to go home soon and pretend like nothing had happened.

  I needed them to be safe.

  There was a knock on the door, and Arden stood there, her eyes tired. She didn’t look on the verge of breaking down like I was, so I had to hope it meant there was good news.

  Dakota and Paris turned on a dime, and both of them moved out of the way for Arden.

  But it was Myra that I was looking at, her face pale, her eyes wide. She looked at Arden, and I wondered what had happened. Myra gave a slight shake of her head, and Arden nodded slightly. I knew I had to know what these two were doing. Did they know each other? Had they met before?

  I didn’t know if it was any of my business, but something was off.

  My head hurt too much to focus on it, though, so instead, I raised my chin and tried to pretend that I was fine.

  I didn’t even know what that meant anymore.

  “I said I’m sorry we’re meeting like this,” Arden said softly. “I wanted to let you know that both Macon and Cross are out of surgery.”

  My heart shuddered, and I nodded, but I didn’t cry. I had a feeling I was done crying.

  “That’s good news,” Dakota said, reaching out with shaking hands to grip Arden’s. The other woman clasped my friend’s fingers tightly and nodded.

  “They’re going to be fine. The doctor just came out and told me. My husband’s in the waiting room, he wanted to give you some space, but if you need anything, we’re all here for you. You’re not alone in this, Hazel. I just wanted you to know that. Thank you for both of my brothers’ lives. I know it’s a bit much, but if you need to talk, we’re here.”

  I nodded, but I didn’t really hear any of it. Saving? No, I was the reason they were in this hospital.

  And I didn’t have them, not really. I didn’t have anyone.

  I didn’t deserve them.

  Arden looked between us all and then nodded before walking out, whispering something to Myra on her way by.

  Myra gave a tight nod and then closed the door behind Arden.

  No one was going to talk about the elephant in the room, about what we had just seen, and that was fine with me.

  All I wanted was to go home.

  I wanted to be alone.

  “Now, let’s figure out what to do next,” Dakota said.

  I shook my head. “Can I just have some space for a minute?” I whispered.

  “No, space isn’t going to help,” Paris said, but Myra shushed her.

  “I agree that space isn’t going to help, but is that really what you want right now?” Myra asked.

  I looked at my friend and wondered what secrets she had, what other things we were all keeping close.

  My past had almost gotten two people killed and had led another to getting his head blown off.

  “I just need to breathe. Thank you for being here, but I can do this on my own.”

  Paris opened her mouth to speak again, but Dakota shook her head.

  “We’ll give you some space for now. Because we love you. But we’re not leaving you alone again. And honestly, we’re not leaving you alone completely.”

  “I know,” I whispered, my voice wooden.

  “We’re not staying gone for long,” Paris said, glaring at me. But then they all leaned forward. They didn’t hug me because I was in pain, but they did run their hands down my arms before leaving me alone.

  I lay in my hospital bed for another hour, listening to the nurses come and go. When the doctor said I could leave, that there were three women outside ready to take me home, I didn’t hold back a smile. I didn’t have anything to smile about, but I did let the warmth slide through me for a bare instant before it iced over.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “You’re welcome. We’ll talk soon,” the doctor said. Then, I was alone again, just like I wanted.

  I changed into sweats and a long-sleeved shirt that one of the girls had brought me, and then I slid my feet into my slip-on shoes, wondering where they had taken my other clothes.

  I didn’t want them back, but I did wonder.

  I walked towards the door, and the girls were there, all standing close and ready to help.

  “Can I have a few more minutes? I want to see Cross,” I said.

  “Of course,” Dakota said.

  “Just don’t do anything stupid,” Paris said.

  I smiled again, but I knew it likely looked forced. “Of course,” I echoed.

  The girls led me down the hall to the right where the Bradys were sitting, all in various states of pacing or worry.

  They looked up at me when I got there, and I held back a flinch.

  I didn’t want to see their anger or their pain.

  Arden spoke first.

  “They’ve already let us all in to see them,” Arden said quickly. “But there’s still some time that you can go in if you want.”

  “Yes, I need to see him,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

  “Of course. Our parents are on their way, they’re just catching a flight,” she said, rambling.

  I looked at the others in the room, the man who had to be Arden’s husband, the other two that looked like Cross, who were probably Nate and Prior. But I wasn’t really focusing on them. I neede
d to keep moving.

  I heard Nate draw in a breath, and I looked over my shoulder to see him staring at Myra. But then he turned, and so did she. I didn’t have the brainpower to focus on what was happening.

  I just kept moving, had to keep going.

  Another nurse and Arden led me to one of the rooms, and I nodded and smiled as we walked, and they talked, but I wasn’t really listening.

  “Macon is next door. They’re both going to be fine,” Arden whispered.

  And then her husband was there, holding his wife as tears slid down her cheeks. I still couldn’t cry. I couldn’t do much of anything.

  Instead, I walked in and saw Cross lying on the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing deep as monitors beeped, and his IV pumped fluids into his body.

  I didn’t even know the details about what had happened or what kind of surgery he’d had.

  I’ve been too focused on my issues and the cops and trying to get out so I could be alone, that I didn’t know much of anything.

  I usually loved to have the details. I needed that.

  “You’re staring,” a gruff voice said from the bed, and I froze.

  “Cross,” I whispered. This time, a single tear did slide down my cheek. Damn it.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”

  “You…you’re here. Macon is here. I’m…It’s my fault,” I muttered.

  “If I could get out of this bed, I’d hug you and tell you it isn’t. Don’t you dare fucking blame yourself for this.”

  “But it is my fault,” I whispered. “I’m sorry you’re hurt because of me. Your brother almost died because of me. Chris is dead because of me.”

  “Chris is dead because of his choices,” Cross growled. “And Macon is going to be fine.” I saw the relief on his face, and I almost died again inside.

  My fault. All this is my fault.

  “When I get out of this bed, we’ll talk through it. We’ll deal with it together. You and me, Hazel. We’ve got this.”

  It was like he was stabbing me with each word, broken shards of the person I wanted to be slicing into my skin. Into my soul.

  I shook my head and wrapped my arms around my body.

  “I can’t, Cross.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You can’t, or you won’t?”

  “I don’t know what the difference is anymore. But this is my fault. And I don’t know how to fix this. I’m sorry. You have your family, and they’ll take good care of you. But I’m the reason you’re lying there. I’m the reason all of this happened. And…I need to think about that. I need time. Please give me time to think. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Before he could say anything, before he could even reach out to me, I rocked on my feet, pivoting as fast as I could since I was still hurting, and then walked quickly out of his room. My name on his lips was the last thing I heard as I moved past the others and made my way into the waiting room.

  Everyone stared at me, but I went straight to Paris and took her hand. She gave me a surprised look, and I squeezed. “I need to go home,” I whispered.

  She searched my face, and the others came with me, leaving the Bradys behind.

  Leaving Cross where he lay.

  I didn’t deserve him. I didn’t deserve any of them.

  As I broke inside, and the others kept silent, I wondered how I was going to fix this. Was there any fixing this?

  Maybe Thomas had won in the end. He had broken me. I wasn’t his, but I wasn’t my own woman anymore either.

  I didn’t know who I was, and I couldn’t be with Cross until I figured that out.

  Or maybe ever.

  Chapter 20

  Cross

  * * *

  Two weeks. Two weeks of doctor appointments and healing and cursing and changing bandages. But now I was home. And alone.

  Well, not completely alone. My brothers each took shifts at the house, along with my sister and some of the Montgomerys. At first, they had wanted to put Macon and me in the same house so we could heal together, but both of us had wanted to be in our own homes to heal where we could feel a bit normal. At least, as normal as you could be with two of five family members getting shot in a twenty-minute period.

  Macon wasn’t really talking to me, and I didn’t know how I felt about that. We needed to talk about what was wrong, but I knew I wasn’t in any place to figure that out yet.

  And I was stewing in my own blame, trying to figure out how I could have been so wrong about Chris.

  I knew Hazel blamed herself, there was no denying that.

  I had to figure out how to fix this.

  Needed to make this better.

  I knew she was in pain, but there was nothing I could do about it when I was still stuck at home, trying to heal from wounds that took time. I wanted her by my side, but I knew she was scared, and I didn’t want to stress her out. I’d fallen for her, but I didn’t know how she felt about me.

  I would never forget seeing her lying there, trying to save herself, struggling to get out of her restraints.

  I could never un-hear the sounds of her screams, never un-see the look on her face when she stood there, gun in hand, a dead man at her feet.

  I would have done anything to save her from the actions she had been forced to take because of a man hell-bent on having her.

  I just hadn’t realized that the man I had trusted with half of my business, the guy I had called my friend, would also end up being so cruel.

  My hands shook. and I shifted on the couch a bit, careful of my tender new skin and wound.

  I was doing fine, healing like I should. While physical therapy was a bitch, I was doing well. So was Macon.

  But none of us were really talking about the fact that we had almost died. It was like it was too difficult to even contemplate putting those words together to form a sentence.

  Add to that the fact that Hazel wasn’t here, and I had no idea what the fuck I was doing.

  I loved her. I fucking loved her, but I couldn’t help her.

  I had called her once. She hadn’t answered, so I hadn’t called again.

  Maybe that was on me. Perhaps I should have pushed, but I knew she needed space. She had told me so herself.

  I also knew the women in her life wouldn’t leave her alone completely.

  So she wasn’t sitting alone, trying to contemplate what she was going to do. The fact that Arden had told me that the girls were watching her gave me some solace.

  At least she wasn’t completely alone.

  But then again, neither was I. Today, I was, since I was on a break between shifts of the Bradys and Montgomerys. I had no one else around.

  It was just me, sitting and trying to figure out what the fuck to do.

  I really wasn’t good at contemplating my life.

  My business had burned to the ground, and there would be inquiries about that—beyond Chris and what he had done that night. And that was fine, it gave me time to think.

  The pieces inside the shop that had burned hadn’t been those for commission, they were ones I had made for myself. It hurt to lose them, but I had already moved my paperwork, files, and the important pieces to my home studio.

  I’d had to answer to the cops about that, but when I’d explained about Chris and all of the financial audits we were about to go through, they understood.

  Plus, there had been evidence of what Chris had done with the business, the building, and what had happened after, as well as the fact that Macon and Hazel had spoken up.

  No one thought I had anything to do with the fire, other than the fact that I had really bad decision-making skills when it came to choosing business partners.

  And that was that. Chris Cross Furniture was done, and though I had enough money to last me a good long while, I needed to figure out what to do.

  I wanted to continue making furniture, but maybe it would just be as Cross Furniture.

  Or maybe I would find something else to do with art.

  I didn’t know, but I had some
time to figure it out. In fact, all I had these days was time.

  I couldn’t do much of anything but sit here and twiddle my thumbs, trying to figure out what the fuck I was going to do with my life.

  And what the hell I was going to do about Hazel.

  I loved her. I wanted to be with her. I’d given her space like she’d asked. I wouldn’t force myself into her vicinity like Thomas had, but I needed to see her. I had to hold her, to make sure she was there, whole, and the woman I had fallen for.

  As soon as I was healed enough, I would go to her. We’d had enough space. We needed to talk this out. Even if it ended—and it just might if that’s what she wanted—I needed to have my say, as well.

  I needed to tell her how I felt. And she needed to listen. If, in the end, I still had to walk away, I would.

  But I didn’t want to.

  All I wanted was her.

  If I had her, maybe I could figure out what I needed to do. Who I needed to be.

  The doorbell rang, and I winced before trying to get up until someone put their key in the lock, and I knew I wasn’t alone.

  Prior walked in, dark shadows under his eyes. He sat down, shaking his head.

  “Long day?” I asked.

  “The longest. But I’m not going to bore you with all of that. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Oh?”

  “We can talk about it.”

  “Not right now. I’m trying to get through it. Anyway, I’m here to talk about you. What’s going on with you?”

  I held up my arms and gestured around my empty home. “I have no job, no prospects, no woman, and I’m healing from a gunshot wound. I’m doing great.”

  Prior winced. “Sorry, I just don’t know what to say. Like, how the fuck is this happening to our family?” he asked.

  “Mom and Dad asked that almost every day the full week that they were here,” I said dryly.

  Prior just shook his head and smiled. It was good to see him smile; he didn’t do much of that these days given his job.

  Our parents had come to take care of Macon and me but had gone home after a week, even though they’d wanted to stay longer.

  But with so many of us, they knew they could leave and come back. We could take care of ourselves. They’d said they would be back in a month to stay for another week.