From That Moment: A Promise Me Novel

by Ryan, Carrie Ann

  “It’s fine. Get back to work. You can come to the next one. It might not be at my house, though. It might be at one of my brother’s or my sister’s. Is that okay?”

  She was silent for a moment, and I wondered what the hell was going on.

  “Of course. I can’t wait to see you again. Have fun.” And then she hung up before I could even say anything.

  “You want to tell me what that was about?” Nate asked when he came back into the room, and I shook my head.

  “Allison’s not coming.”

  “Figured that. You guys okay?”

  “Don’t know about that either,” I said honestly. “And I don’t have time to get into a deep psychological conversation about my relationship with Allison. People are going to be here any minute, and I need to check on the grill.”

  “The pork’s on the smoker, right?” Nate asked, practically licking his lips.

  “What do you take me for? I know how to barbecue.”

  “Famous last words,” Nate said with a laugh, and I shook my head and went back out to my deck so I could work on turning some of the meat.

  The smell went straight to my gut, and I growled, my mouth watering. I could not wait to dig in. We were going full-on barbecue with ribs, pulled pork, and grilled chicken. Whatever we didn’t eat, we’d have for leftovers for the next week. Plus, everyone was going to bring sides and desserts and whatever else they wanted. I wasn’t a huge fan of potlucks, but when it came to my family, I trusted them.

  Mostly.

  I walked back into the house and tilted my head at Cross as he walked into the house.

  “Smells amazing,” Cross said, his hands full. Hazel was by his side, her hands full, as well. I laughed.

  “I made way too much food already, and you guys are seriously packing. What did you guys bring?” I asked, licking my lips.

  “I made this bean dip thing that I think you’re going to like, and brought some chips. I don’t know how to make chips, but I bet Dakota does.”

  “True. Though I could probably eat that whole bag of chips on my own.”

  “We brought four bags,” Cross said, and I snorted.

  “Okay, then. Good to know.”

  “We also brought fixings for a salad,” Cross said. He sighed. “I don’t know when we started letting salads into our barbecue, but that’s what happens when I bring women.”

  “You’re fortunate that your hands are full because I would hit you right now,” Hazel said with a laugh.

  “Sorry, babe.” He leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth, and I just shook my head and took everything from Hazel’s hands.

  “Arden likes salads, too. It’s like Cross forgets we grew up with a little sister.”

  “Believe me, no one can ever forget Arden, but we never used to have salads this big.”

  “Well, now that I know we have salad, I guess somebody will have to eat these vegetables,” Dakota said from the door, her son Joshua at her side.

  “Not vegetables,” Joshua pouted, his hands full.

  “Yes, vegetables. However, we brought dessert, too,” Dakota said, and I pumped my fists in the air.

  “Yes, now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “You’re going to have to eat your vegetables, too,” she said, going up on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. I grinned, fist-bumped Joshua, and then took some of the trays from her hand.

  “How much food did you bring?” I asked, straining a bit from the load. The woman was strong.

  “There’re four of you, four of us, plus Joshua here is going through a growth spurt.”

  “I’m getting big,” Joshua said, puffing out his chest a bit.

  Nate reached out and took the plate from Joshua’s hand so the boy could flex a bit, and we all grinned, making sure that he knew that yes, he was getting big.

  “Nice muscles, big man,” I said appreciatively.

  “Thanks. Macon taught me how to do pull-ups on the bar at the park.”

  My gaze met my brother’s as we both turned to see Macon standing behind them, his hands full of bakery trays, as well.

  “I was at the park jogging, saw them, figured I could teach the kid a thing or two about pull-ups.”

  “I would’ve gotten to it eventually,” Dakota said through gritted teeth.

  Well, that was interesting.

  “Come on in, let’s bring everything in and see what we have.”

  “Are we late?” Myra asked, her arms full of a case—an actual case—of wine. Paris was behind her, two big trays in her hands. “I have yummy little canape appetizers, but Myra has the important stuff. Let her through. She has the wine!”

  Everyone laughed and helped each other, and then soon, the food was out, with the doors open so people could easily move from the kitchen and staging area to the outdoor deck that I had built a couple of years ago. Even with all the space available, we had way too much fucking food.

  “We’re never going to even come close to finishing all of this,” I said with a laugh, my arm around Hazel’s shoulders. She hugged me tightly before pulling away so she could reach out for a little canape.

  “I don’t know. Look at the way Nate and Joshua and Macon are diving into my bean dip.”

  “I thought that’s the seven-layer dip,” I said, narrowing my eyes at it.

  “There are actually nine layers, and Cross called it a bean dip, so that’s now what we’re calling it.”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to have to dig into it as soon as I get to this pork.”

  “Don’t burn it,” Macon growled, taking a bite of salad. He seemed to have an enormous amount of greens on his plate, and since Joshua was looking at him with keen interest, Prior figured out exactly why his brother suddenly liked salad. Because everything that he put on his plate, Joshua did the same.

  And I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

  No, Dakota noticed, too. And from the look on her face, I didn’t think she was all that happy about it.

  I needed to keep an eye on that, but then again, it wasn’t any of my business.

  “Looks great,” Paris said, coming up to my side as I opened the smoker. She waved smoke from her face and grinned. “Smells amazing. If it wasn’t so hot, I might jump in there and snuggle it.”

  “That’s an interesting visual,” I said with a laugh. I was doing my best to not look at her. To study her face to see if she was okay. She was acting like everything was normal.

  I didn’t think anything was quite normal.

  “Thank you, by the way,” she said as I pulled the pork off the smoker.

  “For what?” I asked, trying not to drop the damn meat. My brothers would never let me live it down if I did.

  “Thank you for that night. Well, for most things recently. But thank you for getting me home. I’m okay now. I just needed to talk with the girls and get it out of my system.”

  “I’m here if you want to talk to me, too,” I said, trying to sound casual. Because I wanted to know what was up. I wanted to help her make things better. However, it wasn’t my place.

  “Everything will be fine. Just fine.” She was talking fast, and I raised a brow.

  “It will. I promise. I just needed to get my bearings. And maybe I still do when it comes to certain things. In the end, there’s nothing for you to do. The fact that you were there when I needed you…and your brothers, as well? Thank you. There’s not much else I can say about that, other than I appreciate it. And I don’t want to talk about it ever again.”

  “Noted. Now, let’s dig in.”

  “It’s about time,” Nate said, then hugged Paris tightly before getting a plate for himself.

  I watched the way Paris leaned into my brother as if she didn’t have a care in the world, and nothing was weird between them.

  And then I kind of wondered why I was jealous of that? I shouldn’t be. After all, she was my friend. My coworker. I shouldn’t be insecure about the fact that Paris and I sometimes yelled at each other, or thi
ngs got awkward between us.

  And then my gaze moved across the table to Myra, who stood there with her knuckles white where she gripped the edge. She seemed to see me watching her, and she smiled, her hands relaxing. And then it was as if nothing had happened. As if I hadn’t seen anything.

  Ever since Cross had brought Hazel home, the dynamics in our family had shifted. I didn’t mind it. I liked the new people, the fact that we had grown. Things were very complicated, far more than they used to be.

  And I couldn’t help but wonder what I was doing with a woman who didn’t want to be here. Who wanted nothing to do with what I had with my family.

  “You look serious,” Joshua said from my side. I looked down at the kid and shook my head.

  “Just thinking thoughts. Don’t worry. I’m about to dig into my meal.”

  “Make sure you get salad, though. Because Macon got salad, so that means you should probably get it, too.”

  I grinned, noticed the way Dakota’s brows rose, and piled my plate with salad.

  “That sounds like a good idea. Though I’m going to have to eat some more salad if I’m going to keep up with you. I mean, vegetables do help a boy grow.”

  “That’s what Macon said. And one day, when I’m older, he’s going to help me lift weights. He said that he can’t lift weights that much right now because he’s still getting better from the bad man.”

  Everybody was quiet for a minute before Hazel cleared her throat.

  “You know, I should probably start lifting weights, too,” she said with a laugh.

  “I like you the way you are,” Cross drawled.

  “Yes, but I feel like the only thing I lift is a bottle of wine. That probably means I should get something more into my workout regimen.”

  Everybody started talking about yoga and jogging, and nobody mentioned the bad man or the fact that Macon had even mentioned it to Joshua.

  When my brothers got shot, everything changed. I was the one who usually joked around, while Nate joined in. Macon had always been quiet, yet not sullen. Now, something was different about him. Something we couldn’t change.

  Cross had been shot in the attack as well, but he had Hazel to lean on. Had all of us. Macon had withdrawn, closed in on himself.

  And there was nothing I could do about it.

  By the time we finished our first course, because I had a feeling we’d go back to it, I was full, happy, and excited to get to the next phase of our gathering.

  “Okay, let’s wrap everything up so we don’t add bacteria to our day. Then, it’s football time.”

  “Wait, we have to play football?” Myra asked, looking down at her open-toed shoes.

  “No one actually said football with the invite,” Paris said, wincing. “I would have brought tennis shoes.”

  “Shit, sorry,” I said. “We usually play a game when we’re together.”

  “Next time, I’ll bring the right shoes,” Paris said, and Myra nodded.

  “We have the right shoes,” Hazel said, hip-bumping Dakota. “Cross warned me because he loves me.”

  “It was just a happy accident on my part,” Dakota said.

  “Traitor,” Paris said with a laugh.

  “Okay, let’s get everything cleaned up, then we’ll play for a bit. And then figure out something to do with the two barefoot women.”

  “If you say we should be cheerleaders, I will have to hit you,” Paris said, grinning.

  An image of Paris in a cheerleading uniform right alongside Myra flashed through my mind, and I purposely pushed it away. No, thank you. I was not going to think about that at all. That was wrong.

  And…fuck, I had a girlfriend. A girlfriend I wasn’t sure I even liked anymore, but still, I was not an asshole.

  We cleaned everything up, dug into more pulled pork and a rib or two because we couldn’t help ourselves, and then we slowly made our way out to my back yard.

  By the time we were done with the afternoon, we were covered in dirt, had a few bruises, Joshua was asleep on the bench outside after laughing and playing so hard that even I was exhausted watching him, and I just knew that this family was pretty cool. Somehow, we had all come together in this weird mesh of families and connections.

  And I didn’t think it would be the same if Hazel’s friends hadn’t shown up.

  I met Paris’s gaze, and she grinned, but I saw the sadness in her eyes. Once again, I wanted to know if there was something I could do. There was nothing.

  As my phone buzzed, and I looked down to see a very not family-friendly photo of Allison on it, I groaned.

  And not one of pleasure. Nope. I hadn’t expected to see my girlfriend’s tits on my phone like that.

  Apparently, she was done with work, and still hadn’t come here. Instead, she wanted me to go to her house.

  That wasn’t going to happen tonight, not with my other plans. I just had to wonder what exactly was going on between us. Our plans weren’t meshing. Our paths weren’t crossing.

  I needed to figure out exactly what the fuck I was going to do about that.

  Chapter 6

  Paris

  Hands wrapped around my neck, and I clawed at the flesh, trying to break free so I could breathe. So that I could live.

  The grip merely tightened.

  Spots appeared before my eyes.

  Screams echoed in my ears.

  I struggled, tried to breathe, fought to do something, but the hands wouldn’t let go.

  And then there were smaller hands on my face, on my shoulders, telling me everything would be okay, leaning close and telling me it would end soon.

  “I love you, Paris.”

  A child’s voice, one with a little softness weaved through it. It filled my ears, and tears streamed down my face as I kicked and thrashed.

  I sat up quickly, my eyes open, the dream gone but not that far away. Never far away.

  I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I reached up to touch my throat and noticed the blood under my fingernails. The evidence that my nightmare wasn’t merely a dream. The blood on my hand was real. I’d scratched myself in my sleep again, and I cursed under my breath before rolling out of bed, my legs shaking, my knees giving way. I clutched at the nightstand and staggered toward the bathroom. I went to the sink, looking at myself in the mirror.

  My eyes were wide, my hair standing up in all directions, and I panted. My lips parted as I tried to slow down my breathing and calm my heart rate.

  I had a single scratch on my neck, one from my own hands, as I tried to stave off my dream attacker.

  I quickly washed the scratch before I brushed my teeth and got into the shower. I put the water as hot as it could go, scalding myself as I tried to wake up, attempted to burn off any excess dream remnants.

  The water slid down my back, and I pressed my palms flat against the tile, trying to focus. Attempting to breathe.

  I hadn’t had that particular dream in a while, and I never wanted to have it again.

  I had known it would come. As soon as I’d heard the detective’s voice in my ear, I had known that I would have to face these dreams—and possibly face reality.

  Because the past had wrapped around me and hadn’t let me go quite as much as I’d thought it had.

  My father was out of prison. The man who had helped to kill my sister. The asshole who had wrapped his arms around me and pretended to be kind and loving but had really been evil and treacherous.

  Everyone who’d had a hand in killing my sister was no longer incarcerated. And they could be at my house at any moment. I hid from them. I had done what I could to make it so I was safe, but was I ever truly safe?

  I didn’t know.

  I didn’t know if there would ever be real safety for me.

  “Get over it, Paris,” I whispered to myself before I pulled away from the wall and washed my hair and my body. I shaved my legs, rinsed off, and got ready for the day.

  There was nothing I could do right now when it came to my past. I was as safe
as I could be for the moment, even with my father out of prison. I needed to focus on what I could do, rather than the panic of the unknown and what uncertainties could slide through my fingertips at any moment.

  I blow-dried my hair and then turned on music, pretending that I could dance away the fear and nightmares.

  As I pulled my now-dry hair back into a clip so I could straighten it, I tilted up my chin and pulled out the concealer, dabbing it over the scratch mark. Probably not the best way to deal with things, but I didn’t want to field any questions about why I had scratch marks on my neck.

  I had been the one to hurt myself this time. There had been no one else. The dreams that haunted me didn’t make flesh and blood from nothing, however. The idea of what had once been was something I needed to remember, even if I didn’t want to.

  While my straightener heated, I finished the rest of my makeup, putting it on like armor. Not only to hide what I dreamed of from others, what I feared, but also to shield part of myself.

  Nobody at work needed to know that I had any weaknesses. Some already saw me as weak because of who I was. Perhaps not all, and as an image of Prior filled my mind, I knew it wasn’t everybody. People like Benji were why I had to hide part of myself. I was the Shark because I thought they needed me to be. They called me those names because I had to be fierce in the image I projected.

  And I lived with that.

  I had to be okay with that.

  I would work, I would pretend that my makeup and my hair being perfectly done wasn’t a symbol of what people needed me to be.

  That it wasn’t a mask to hide behind, to conceal my dreams and my fears.

  I chose my clothing with care, another type of armor, and ignored the fact that my hands shook.

  This would mean nothing. It was only a blip.

  I could go on living my life as I had before. Trying to find love when I had already decided I wouldn’t date. Ignoring a burning attraction to a man I should not want in the slightest and pretending that I wasn’t scared to death of everything.