From That Moment: A Promise Me Novel

by Ryan, Carrie Ann

  He shook his head. “No, that probably would have annoyed me eventually because he was that good. Macon and Cross were already better at sports than I was, though, so I was probably used to it by then.”

  “Got to love sibling rivalry.” I said it lightly, but my chest ached at the thought. I must have let something slip on my face because Prior gave me a weird look.

  “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

  “You didn’t say anything.” I let out a breath. “I was just thinking of siblings. I used to have a sister, which is a bizarre way to put it. I had a sister. I still have her. Though she’s no longer here.”

  Why couldn’t I say the word dead? I should be able to do that. It had been long enough. I’d even said the word before when it came to her.

  “Paris,” Prior whispered, pulling me out of my thoughts. He reached across the table and slid his fingers through mine, rubbing his thumb over the space between my thumb and my forefinger. I looked down at our clasped hands and let out a breath.

  The two of us were very good at not putting labels on our relationship, but this wasn’t a first date, it wasn’t even our second. And Prior was a friend.

  He had seen me at my worst, when I had been bleeding and in pain and calling out for help.

  Maybe he deserved to see some of my nightmares.

  Because if tonight was the night that he slept over for the full night, then he might see a nightmare in truth.

  We’d only slept together that first time, our other dates ending either with our group of friends, or us going our separate ways after some heavy petting. Neither of us had ventured into the next step of what our relationship could be. Even if using the word relationship was kind of scary.

  Tonight, though…tonight I wanted to tell him. And then we would see where things ended up.

  “How about we get the check, and you take me home, and we can talk?”

  “Anything you want, I’m here. I promise.” He gave my hand a squeeze before looking over my shoulder where the waiter presumably was. He smiled, did some gesturing thing, and soon, the check was there, and we were ready to go.

  We were quiet in the car, and I felt like I had possibly ruined the mood, but I wanted to tell him. I hated that I had this secret that didn’t need to be something between us.

  We got into the house, and I went straight to my kitchen, contemplating hard liquor or coffee. I settled that argument by pulling out Baileys and starting the coffee maker.

  Prior stood by my side for a moment before helping me with the coffee, neither of us having to say a word. He had made coffee in my home before, and I had made coffee in his, and it felt like this was another step.

  How had this happened so quickly?

  Or maybe it wasn’t quick at all.

  After all, it had been months since I had first realized my attraction to him, and over a month of us being together as we were now.

  Maybe this wasn’t as quick as my mind wanted it to be.

  We settled on the couch, two coffees with Irish cream in our hands, and I let the warmth seep into my hands, my body cold.

  “We can watch a movie. You don’t have to say anything.”

  “I think I do. Because I feel like I’m keeping something from you, and I don’t like that. I don’t like hiding.”

  “You never hide. You’re always the exact Paris you want to be.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

  Prior took a sip of his coffee, winced at the heat, then set it down on the coffee table.

  “What I mean is that you are strength personified. You are brilliant, beautiful, and compassionate.”

  My heart filled, and I had no idea where he was going with this. “I wasn’t asking for compliments, Prior.”

  “I know. You never would. You do what you need to do to get things done. What I meant by being the person you need to be is that nobody needs to know every aspect of you at work. Many of those people will never be your friends. They’ll never be my friends. And we both understand that. It’s like how some people have work personas. Sometimes it changes who they are completely, but never with you. You are who you are, but you put out so much strength, that sometimes people can’t see beneath the layers. And I understand that. Especially with Benji around.”

  “Don’t bring up his name in my house. I don’t want to even think about him.”

  He hadn’t changed much since the last time he blew out of my office, but he also hadn’t outright accused me of anything recently either. I didn’t know if that was because I had threatened him, or if he waited to threaten me again. Perhaps he’d figured out that Prior and I were friends at least and didn’t want to upset a man he admired. I didn’t know, I didn’t really care, but I didn’t mind the reprieve either.

  I let out a breath, needing to continue, but not sure how.

  “You don’t have to say anything. We can just make out if you want.”

  I burst out laughing, shaking my head. Then his lips were on mine, soft. I sank into him, needing his embrace.

  The mug was still between us, so he pulled back, taking it from my hands and setting it on the table.

  “Talk to me, Paris.”

  “Her name was Tracey. She was so beautiful. We were both born blond, and my hair eventually darkened to what it is now. I don’t know what her hair would have turned into. I think it would have darkened like mine, but hers was always a little lighter than mine. Mine was a little more like corn silk. At least that’s what my grandma said once when we were little. Before she died, anyway.”

  I could still remember my grandma saying that before she lit up her cigarette and walked away to go pour another glass of cheap whiskey.

  Grandma had been nice, a drunk, but she never hit me.

  Not like the others had.

  “My parents were not good people. They drank. They did whatever drugs they felt like. I don’t know why they chose to become parents. In all honesty, even though my mom always said that we were planned because she wanted to have kids in her sober times, I didn’t believe it.”

  “Paris.” Prior let out a breath. “No, I don’t want to interrupt. There’s nothing for me to say.”

  “I’ve always heard the way you guys talk about your parents, how they’re not here now but were always there before. And they constantly visit.”

  “You met them, right?”

  I nodded. “When Macon and Cross were in the hospital. Yes. I didn’t get to talk to them, but I met them in passing. They love you so much.”

  “They do. And eventually, I think they’ll move back to be with their grandbabies when they come, but they love us.”

  “I don’t think my parents loved me. Or Tracey. I think they wanted us because it was what you were supposed to do. Either that or my mom wanted to keep my dad with her. That’s why I think she had Tracey. And I think I was an accident and am why they got together in the first place.” I let out a breath. “It doesn’t matter. But I had Tracey. She used to sing. She had such a beautiful voice, like a little angel’s. When Mom and Dad started fighting and would slap at each other and hit and scream, she would come into my room, and we’d hide under my covers. When we moved to the trailer and we had to share a room, she slept in my bed, and we held each other close. Even as we got older, we always had each other because we knew we weren’t going to have them.”

  I let out a breath, the memories coming back so quickly I could taste them—the stench of whiskey on their breath, the feel of hands on skin when they pounded into flesh. I could still hear the air conditioner running on its last leg, the trailer shaking when the wind got to be too much.

  “My parents started hitting me long before I can even remember. A swat on the butt here or there. And then when I got old enough to try and duck away, Dad hit harder. And Mom would help. He would hit and slap and use his belt. If dinner wasn’t served on time, or if we didn’t do what we were supposed to do, even if they hadn’t told us what they wanted. Then, sometimes, they got drunk and s
tarted having sex right there in the living room after fighting. And if one of us made a noise from our bedroom, crying or trying to do our homework, they would stop whatever they were doing, get dressed, and come and hit us because we interrupted what they were doing. When Mom stole Dad’s drugs once, he blamed it on me, and hit me so hard I broke my cheekbone. Child services came, but they lied and said that I had fallen off my bike.”

  My hands were shaking, and when Prior reached out to hold them, I didn’t back away.

  “I didn’t have a bike, Prior. I never did. We didn’t have that kind of money. And even if we did, it would have gone for drugs anyway.”

  Prior didn’t say anything, he simply held my hands, rubbing his thumbs over my skin as I kept going.

  “My parents always kept jobs, that was the one thing they were good at. It was only for drugs. And booze. Or whatever else they could get their hands on. They would have orgies in our trailer and bring over whoever they wanted to fuck and do whatever they wanted. They wanted to live a life that meant having fun, gluttony and everything they could possibly have. Somehow, they had kids in the middle of it. And when Dad got too angry, he would hit me, over and over again. And then Mom would join in. Sometimes, Mom would hold me down while he hit me harder and harder.”

  “Baby.”

  “I know. I’m fine. They only broke a couple of bones. They got good at that. They didn’t want child services to come. They didn’t want to go to jail.” I took another breath before continuing.

  “Then they went after Tracey.”

  “Jesus,” he whispered.

  “Pretty much. When Tracey got old enough, Daddy started hitting her, too. And when I tried to protect her, he hit me harder. And then Mom would hold me back, so he could keep going at Tracey.” I shook my head at Prior’s questioning look. “They never touched us like that. Ever. That wasn’t something on their radar. Although a couple of the guests of my parents’ orgies gave us weird looks, Mom protected us from that.” I let out a rough chuckle. “At least, she tried. Then she distracted them and pretty much had whoever she wanted on the couch and in her bed. One night, though, it was my birthday, and I came home from school with a present. It was a little candy bracelet, something that a friend gave me. It was so cheap that the candy probably would have made me sick if I’d had a chance to eat it.”

  After a minute, I didn’t say anything, and Prior leaned forward and brushed my hair from my face. I leaned into his touch, inhaling his scent, and just…breathing.

  I wasn’t back in that trailer. I could do this.

  “Dad called me a whore, snapped the candy right off my wrist, and then hit me with it. And then he choked me before he kept hitting and hitting and hitting.”

  Tracey was there, and she was so sad because it was my birthday, and they usually never hit me on my birthday. It was a weird thing, but it was like a present not to be hurt. I almost forgot about that, but they never did that.” I shook my head when he opened his mouth to speak. There wasn’t anything to say. “Daddy looked up, so furious that Tracey would say anything, and he backhanded her so hard she cracked her head on the cheap Formica counter and fell to the ground. There was blood everywhere, all over the floor, all over the wall, all over me. She wasn’t dead, not yet. She was still moaning, and Mom was screaming, thrashing Tracey’s shoulders down to the ground, screaming that she wanted her to wake up. It was only making it worse. And then Daddy hit me again, so hard that I didn’t wake up for a minute or two, and then I came to and heard crying, and I thought it was Tracey, her little voice. But it was only in my dreams. They were holding her body, blood covering them both, and she was dead.”

  Tears were streaming down my cheeks, and I hadn’t even realized it. Prior picked me up, the strength in his arms surprising me, and then I was on his lap, and he was holding me, sliding his hands down my back and through my hair, just holding me.

  When was the last time I had been held like this when thinking those thoughts? My friends had done it, but a man had never held me like this.

  And I didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Apparently, we had made enough noise that the neighbors in the trailer next door called the cops. They gave Dad manslaughter, Mom a lesser charge. They leveled them both with a bunch of other charges that I don’t even want to get into, but it was enough that they were in jail for a long time. Somehow, though, enough time has passed. They both got out. So, when you and I were at that Greek Mediterranean place? That was the call from the detective, saying that Dad had gotten out.”

  “He’s out right now?” The anger in Prior’s voice calmed me somehow.

  “Yes, Mom’s been out for a couple of years now. They’re not here. The detective said that they’re keeping an eye on everything and will let me know if anything changes. I’m still afraid he’s going to show up one day, though, you know? Or Mom will. But mostly Dad because he’s the one who hit me the most. Mom just let it happen.”

  “And you think the attack...” he asked, not even finishing his sentence.

  I shrugged. “I told the local police about it. And they got in contact with the old detective on the case. We don’t know. There’s no evidence, even though I fought back. So, they’re still trying to figure out who it could have been. Because both of my parents, if I even want to use that term, have alibis.”

  “I don’t know what to say. Other than, I’m sorry. And I want to hurt them for daring to touch you, and for taking such a light from this world. I also don’t want to get too violent and scary.”

  “I want to murder them. Slowly. I want to hear their screams. I want them to pay for an eternity for what they’ve done. So, you getting violent with them? That’s not going to trigger me. It might trigger other people, but for me? I just get angry. So, we can both dream of different ways to end my parents for what they did to Tracey. There’s nothing else I can do right now.”

  “And what they did to you, baby. I could hurt them for that alone.”

  “You’re right. I just…anyway, that’s my big secret. And I have nightmares sometimes, and I see a therapist. And I’m trying to deal with it, but sometimes I wake up, and I scream, and I thrash out. And it sucks.”

  “That time you had a mark on your neck at work?”

  “I didn’t even know you saw that,” I said, my eyes wide.

  “I noticed a lot of things about you Paris. Probably before I should have.”

  He shrugged, and I blushed.

  “That was a dream. I woke up screaming, but I got through it. If you ever spend the night here, you’re going to have to deal with the fact that I might wake up screaming.

  “I’m going to stay the night tonight if you’ll let me,” he said, his voice low. “I’m just going to hold you. I think that’s what we both need, nothing else, but I’m going to hold you. And then if you wake up, I’ll still hold you. To be honest, I have nightmares about Arden dying, about me not being able to do anything for her when she gets flareups. I have nightmares about seeing both my brothers in the hospital. I have stress dreams where I can’t finish my homework for classes I didn’t realize I was taking,” he added, and I laughed. “I have a lot of nightmares, and sometimes, I talk in my sleep when I’m stressed out. I don’t sleep with women often.” He frowned. “I have sex, but I don’t sleep over, and they don’t sleep over usually.”

  “Tonight?” I asked.

  “Tonight…tonight, I’m going to hold you.”

  And he did. We finished our cooling coffee and then got ready for bed, him in his boxers, me in an old T-shirt and shorts, the least sexy thing I owned. I leaned into him, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat beneath my ear.

  I didn’t have a nightmare.

  And when we woke up, his mouth was on mine. And then he was inside me, both of us arching into each other—a breath, a touch. Making love.

  I was falling for Prior Brady, and I didn’t even know when I had begun to fall. Regardless, I knew I was going to land soon.

  And a
s I gasped, both of us coming together, I wasn’t sure if it would hurt when I completed that fall.

  Chapter 14

  Paris

  I leaned against the doorway, my arms folded over my chest, a brow raised. “So, it’s your last day.”

  Prior grinned at me, his eyes brightening. “Finally, right? I mean, there’s only so much I can take,” he said deadpan, and I resisted the urge to flip him off.

  After all, we were at work, and being crude wouldn’t be a great thing. As it was, we were good about not even flirting or touching while at the office, and though we were dating, nobody needed to know that. It might not be against the rules, but it still wasn’t good to flaunt our relationship or skirt the lines of what constituted appropriate workplace conduct. We could wait until later to be inappropriate with each other.

  I smiled, my heart doing that annoying pitter-patter thing when I looked into his eyes. I wasn’t sure what that was about, but I needed it to stop, thank you very much. “Anyway, I finished up the last bit of our project today, at least my part. I’m sure your replacement’s going to have to go over everything you’ve done and change everything because, dear God, you do need some help.”

  Prior rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever you say. I mean, you were the one who oversaw everything and double-checked, so I guess you’d be the one in the wrong in the end.”

  “Oh, shush.”

  “I’m sure you wanted to say something a little more vulgar.”

  “Maybe. I did finish up the last part, signed, sealed and delivered back to your inbox.”

  “Great. I have a few more weeks on it probably, but I’ll be at my old office getting things done.”

  “And the new hire should be here on Monday. Finally.”

  We both knew that I was saying “finally” for many reasons. Mostly because while I enjoyed working with Prior—he was probably the best person I had ever worked with—I was also tired of having to hide my emotions when it came to him. Considering that I was still figuring out what those were, I would prefer not to add an odd deception into the mix.