From That Moment: A Promise Me Novel

by Ryan, Carrie Ann

  I wanted so much, yet I knew I was being a selfish dick. I didn’t care.

  Or maybe, I cared too much. Perhaps that was the problem.

  “I don’t know, give me time.” She paused. “Are you going to tell your brothers?”

  “I might. I talk to them when I get frustrated and I can’t think through things.”

  “Oh, if you do, then I guess it’s going to be a thing in our group regardless.”

  “Well, if you talk to the girls, and it becomes a thing, maybe we should see what happens.”

  “I need time to think, Prior. Can you give me that?”

  I nodded, lowering my hand. “Of course. Anything you need, Paris.”

  “And that’s the problem,” she said softly. “I think you know exactly what I need.”

  And on that note, I wasn’t sure what else there was to say, so I turned on my heel and left the house. I heard the lock snick behind me, all three of them, and I was glad that she was making herself safe.

  Because even with all the heat between us, the tension that rolled through my belly and slid up my spine, there was still the fact that someone had hurt her. And we didn’t know who it was.

  That hadn’t left my mind the entire time I was with her, and the idea of Paris getting hurt again made me want to go down to knees and pray.

  As I started my car and pulled away, I knew where I needed to go.

  My brothers could help me.

  Even if I didn’t know what to say to them.

  Since I knew that Cross and Hazel were still at Arden’s, I went to the next closest house, Macon’s. If he wasn’t there, I’d try Nate. I could text them or call and tell them I was coming, but I needed to get my thoughts in order first.

  Thankfully, Macon’s truck was out front when I pulled in. It looked like it had recently been washed.

  I pulled in next to his vehicle, got out of the car, and headed towards the open garage where my brother was standing, looking over his workbench and frowning.

  “Hey,” I said softly, trying not to startle him. Apparently, not well enough. Macon twisted on his feet, fists ready, and punched out. I ducked in time not to get hit in the nose, but he got me in the shoulder. I bent over, cursing.

  “Fuck,” I cried out.

  “Shit. Sorry, man. Don’t scare me like that. Hell. I’m sorry. You okay?” Macon started rambling and stuffed his hands into his jeans’ pockets, rocking back on his heels.

  I nodded, rubbed my shoulder, and looked at my sibling.

  He was pale, his face sweat-slick, and I had a feeling that had just happened in the two seconds since I came up and scared him.

  “I’m fine,” I said. But I knew my brother wasn’t okay.

  And I had no idea what to do about it.

  I’d almost lost both of my brothers that day when they got shot, and while Cross had Hazel to lean on and seemed to act like nothing had happened, Macon was doing his best to pretend like everything was okay, to the point that it was all a lie.

  I didn’t know what to do to protect my brother.

  “I need to get better at ducking,” I said, trying to laugh it off. I didn’t know what else to do or say. Macon studied my face for a long moment before giving me a tight nod.

  “Sorry. You just startled me. You want a beer?” he asked, and I looked down at my watch, noting that it was after two. I nodded.

  “A beer sounds delicious.”

  I followed Macon into the house, stepping out of the way so he could close the garage door behind us.

  “Did I interrupt something?” I asked.

  “No, just reorganizing the garage.”

  Considering that Macon had bowed out of going with Arden, I had hoped it had been for a good reason, but I guess not wanting to be around crowds made sense. I knew that Nate had been working this morning and hadn’t been able to make it, but Macon hadn’t come up with an excuse. I wanted to know what the hell was wrong with my baby brother.

  I just didn’t think this was the right time to ask. He would come to us if he needed us.

  I only hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

  “So, what can I help you with?” Macon asked. I kind of wished I hadn’t come. Because I didn’t want to bother Macon with my petty problems, not when I knew that he had his own healing to do. Maybe him worrying about my issues would help him get over what the fuck was going on in his own mind.

  Or maybe I just needed to talk with someone.

  “I kissed Paris,” I blurted.

  Macon choked on his beer, spewing liquid everywhere, and I wiped my face and took a step back.

  “Thanks for that.”

  “Fuck. Warn me next time.”

  I set down my beer, laughing as I shook my head. I stripped off my shirt, wiped my face, and threw the bundled material at him.

  “Asshole,” I said with a laugh.

  “I don’t know, I’ve never actually done a spit take like that before.”

  I met Macon’s gaze, and we both burst out laughing. I followed him back to the guest room where I kept a few shirts and odds and ends.

  “I think I have an old AC/DC shirt of yours.”

  “Wouldn’t that be Cross’s?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. We’re all about the same size. Hopefully, it still fits.”

  He searched through his drawers and handed over the black T-shirt with the familiar logo. I went to wash my face before I slid the tee over my head, still feeling like I smelled like beer.

  “So. You and Paris?” Macon asked from the doorway, folding his arms over his chest.

  “I think so.”

  “What’s there to think about? She’s hot, and you’re okay.”

  “Thanks. I truly appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Seriously, what’s there to think about?”

  “How about the fact that she’s friends with Hazel, and now part of our new group.”

  “And we can’t date within the group?” he asked, his voice a little too casual. I wasn’t going to touch on that, because frankly, I had my own shit to worry about.

  “Well, we shouldn’t. Right?”

  “I don’t know. You guys are always shooting daggers at each other, isn’t that chemistry supposed to be hot or something?”

  “That’s where you’re going with this?”

  He threw his hands up in disgust and walked away from me as I followed him back into the kitchen. He got himself another beer since the first one was now too flat since he’d shaken it.

  “You know what? I don’t know. You guys have chemistry, or whatever the hell you two have. If you’re worried about hurting her? Then don’t date her. You don’t want to have to deal with Dakota and the bunch if you fuck her over.”

  I didn’t fail to notice the fact that he had said Dakota rather than Hazel, but I wasn’t going to mention it.

  If I had sparks or angry chemistry with Paris, his with Dakota was tenfold. I didn’t think any of us dared to comment on it. At least, not yet.

  “I don’t want to screw things up, mess them up, or ruin anything.”

  “Those all mean the same thing,” Macon said.

  “See? I’m so flustered, I don’t know how to speak.”

  “Okay, what’s making you not want to do this?”

  “I don’t want to hurt her.”

  “Not a good enough reason. You don’t want to hurt anyone you’re in a relationship with, even Allison. Even though she cheated on you.”

  “Fine,” I said, sighing.

  “If things get weird between Paris and me, I don’t want them to be weird in the group.”

  “The girls don’t hang out with us all the time, and it’s not like she used to date one of us or anything. We have other friends. We can make this work. And as long as you don’t screw her over or hurt her too badly, it won’t be a problem. And you wouldn’t do that. You’re a good guy.”

  That warmed me, and I grinned. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Now I’m going to flip you off so we s
top being all warm and brotherly.” He flipped me off, and I grinned, liking that he was a bit back to his old self, even though I knew the tension running just under the surface was about ready to explode at any minute.

  I only hoped to hell that one of us was there when it happened.

  I didn’t want him to be alone.

  “What else?” Macon asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  “We work together.”

  “That could be an issue.”

  “However, she said that she looked it up and it’s not against the rules. Plus, I won’t be there for much longer.”

  Macon grinned, his eyes bright. “She looked it up?”

  “Yes,” I said, grinning right back.

  “Well. It’s not like you guys are going to flaunt it at work anyway. So, I don’t think that’s going to be a big deal. Just don’t fuck her on your desk at work and you’ll be fine.”

  Now, images of that filled my mind, and I let out an oof as Macon punched me in my other shoulder.

  “Stop thinking about it. Because then that image is going to get inside my mind, and I don’t have any bleach right now to take care of it.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who said it.”

  “And I regret it already.”

  “Anyway, I don’t know.”

  “You’re never going to know if you keep pussyfooting around it.”

  “You’re so good with the words, so wise and sage.”

  “You came to me, not Cross or even Hazel.”

  “Make that Arden.”

  “I noticed you didn’t mention Nate.”

  “Why would I mention him?” Macon asked, and I laughed.

  “He’s not here to defend himself. Don’t be mean.” I sighed.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I whispered.

  “Yes, you do. Take a chance. You never know when you’re going to get another.”

  I frowned, looking at Macon, wondering what to say. “Are you okay?” I asked, the words leaving my mouth before I’d even fully thought them.

  Macon froze for a bare instant, but I saw it. The fear, the stress, the worry.

  And I didn’t know how to help.

  “Everything’s fine. Just waiting to see what happens between you and Paris. Y’all are starting to get paired off. Eventually, Nate will find someone, and then hell will freeze over.”

  I wanted to say: What about you?

  I didn’t ask though, because he had purposely not mentioned himself, and I wasn’t going to push. Not now.

  “So, can I have another beer?” I asked, and Macon’s shoulders lowered a bit, relief covering him.

  I wasn’t going to broach the subject, not again, at least not for now.

  I had my second beer, as well as a glass of water and dinner before I headed back home, feeling lighter, if a bit more worried about my brother. I was going to keep an eye on him, just like I knew the rest of my siblings would. And we’d be there when he needed us.

  I only hoped to hell he reached out.

  I pulled into my garage and got out of the car, rolling back my shoulders, knowing that I needed a little bit of courage to do what I was about to do next.

  I let out a breath, got to my living room, and sat down on the couch, pulling out my phone.

  Me: I know we need to talk. How about we do that over dinner?

  I had been thinking about what I needed to say to her, and when I would reach out, and yet I wasn’t very good at this.

  The little bubble telling me she was messaging me back appeared almost immediately, and I didn’t know whether to be relieved that she had seen the text, or worried that she was going to say no very quickly.

  Paris: Is that your weird way of asking me out?

  Me: What’s so weird about it?

  I hadn’t been this nervous to ask someone out since I was a teenager, and even then, I’d had so many hormones and inexperience flooding through me that I had jumped headfirst into most things.

  Paris: You should probably work on your moves.

  Me: Well, I could either ask you to teach me, or I could show you what my moves are in person.

  Paris: That’s a little smoother.

  Me: So what do you say? Let me take you out.

  Paris: And what if this is a mistake?

  I let out a breath, knowing that she was right.

  Me: Then we’ll figure it out together.

  She was silent for so long, I was afraid she was going to say no or find a nice way to let me down easy.

  I didn’t want nice. I wanted Paris.

  I laughed at that and hoped to hell I never said it aloud to her face. Because that had not come out right in my head.

  Paris: We’d better.

  Paris: I expect romance, I’m just saying.

  Relief flooded through me, and my cock twitched at the thought of our date.

  “Down boy,” I muttered.

  Me: I can do that. I promise.

  Paris: And a Brady always keeps his promises?

  Me: Always.

  I set my phone down, waiting for her to respond back. We’d plan our date.

  I only hoped to hell this wasn’t another mistake.

  Chapter 12

  Prior

  I was nervous.

  Why was I so nervous?

  Could it be the fact that I was going on a date with a woman that I worked with, a woman who I thought I knew but still wanted to know better? Someone I couldn’t stop thinking about?

  Probably.

  I needed to stop thinking so hard about this and let it flow. That’s how we had gotten where we were today, by living in the moment, and simply being. If I kept overthinking things, I would only make everything worse.

  I needed to be the old Prior, the one who dove headfirst into stuff and did what I needed to do.

  Not this current version of myself, who got overly emotional and worried about everything.

  I pulled into Paris’s driveway and turned off the car before getting out. I let out a breath, wiping my hands down my pants since I was sweating, and rolled my shoulders back as if preparing to go to war.

  I liked battling with Paris, but this wasn’t going to be one, was it?

  Or maybe it could be. That would be fun. We had chemistry, after all, and getting into a skirmish could be part of the game.

  Not that I wanted to play a game with Paris.

  I truly needed to stop thinking in circles.

  I made my way to her front door and rang the doorbell, rocking back on my heels as I waited.

  She opened the door, and I swallowed hard, unable to think clearly.

  She had on a green dress, one not made of silk or cotton, but a blend of something that looked soft to the touch.

  It had a low neckline, so low that I got a peek of her breasts. I did my best not to stare.

  I wasn’t a dick.

  Even though my dick was the one thinking right now.

  The dress was sleeveless and tied up at her shoulders, then dipped into her waist before flaring out over her knees.

  It looked amazing on her, the green the perfect complement to her eyes and the dark chestnut of her hair.

  Her skin was pale in the moonlight, her lips a pinkish color, and her eyes were done up in a smoky way that I’d never seen on her before.

  I had seen her in jeans, in work clothes, and in sundresses and leggings and the like when she was hanging out with the girls and us.

  I had never seen Paris like this.

  Oh, I had seen her on dates, two of them, actually, and she had looked fucking sexy then, but this? This was something different.

  Maybe because I knew it was for me.

  Or maybe I was self-centered, and this was all for her.

  I would be the one sitting across from her, though.

  I swallowed hard again and tried to speak. Only nothing came out.

  “Are you just going to stand there?” Paris asked, and I looked up at her grin.

  “Hey.”

  S
mooth.

  “Hey there, Brady. You like what you see?”

  “You know I do.” I cleared my throat. “So much in fact that we should go before I take you back inside and see exactly what you’re wearing under that dress.”

  “You sure feel high of yourself, don’t you?” she asked.

  “I would make a joke about feeling you instead, but how about I take you to dinner?”

  She threw back her head and laughed, exactly what I was going for.

  “So, these are your moves?” she asked as we got into my car.

  “You like them?”

  “They’re okay.”

  “I guess I’ll have to do better from here on out.”

  “I suppose you will,” she said, and we went on to talk about work of all things, our conversation progressing easily as if we had done it a hundred times before.

  We’d always been slightly caustic to one another, maybe just our large personalities clashing, but now it felt as if we knew each other a bit better.

  I didn’t know everything. I knew there were secrets, dark ones from the glimpses I had gotten, but it wasn’t my right to know those. At least not yet.

  I wanted to know. I wanted to know everything.

  And that should have scared me far more than it did.

  We made our way to the restaurant, a little chophouse that I liked to go to, one that Paris had mentioned before in passing. I knew she had been here, and it wasn’t a place I had taken Allison. Not that I hadn’t wanted to take her here, but it had never come up. I wanted my first date with Paris to be somewhere different than where I had taken Allison, and not the two places where I had caught Paris on really shitty blind dates.

  “I love this place,” Paris said as we took our seats and leaned back as the hostess handed us our menus.

  “Your waiter will be right with you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and then the young woman winked at Paris, gave her a once-over, and I grinned.

  “Stop it,” Paris said, blushing all the way to her ears and down her chest.

  It seemed she might just blush all over. That was interesting—something I would have to discover more of.

  Down, boy.