“At first, I thought the only memories that would come back for us was every time we saw Arden in a hospital bed all hooked up to a bunch of machines and in pain. Now, it’s you and Macon. And even Hazel.”
“You didn’t see Hazel on the ground, bloody, and left tied up. I never want to see that again, not even in my dreams. And yet, here we are, with another of us hurt.”
“Doesn’t make any sense to me,” I said, frowning.
“What doesn’t make any sense to you?” Cross asked.
“That this keeps happening. I know we’ve lived in a decently safe bubble, even with the issues we had before. I still can’t believe that she’s hurt like this. And there’s fucking nothing we can do about it.”
“She made it this far because you were there to help her.”
“Maybe. But if I had only been a second faster, or if I hadn’t let her go off on her own, we wouldn’t be here at all.”
“I’m going to tell you something that you’ve told me before.”
“And what is that?” I asked, nervous.
“If you spend the rest of your life on what-ifs, you’re going to hurt yourself and those you love in the end. So, focus on what you can do. And while we’re figuring that out, we can wait and see how Paris is doing. Because she’s going to be okay, right? There’s no other option.”
I nodded at Cross’s words, knowing that he was right. And I had said something similar to him when we were all worried about each other. So, I would wait. And I would hope to hell that Paris was going to be okay. She was my friend. My coworker. Nothing more than that. But hell, I just wanted her to be okay.
“She’s going to be all right,” I said softly.
“Yes, she will.”
Cross took the seat on the other side of me, and we sat there, waiting until Dakota came in with her son, and Myra walked through the double doors, searching for us. When their gazes finally landed on us, their eyes narrowed, relief crossing their features a bit as they came towards us.
“Any news?” Myra asked, her voice crisp.
“Still waiting for Hazel to come back out.”
I looked over at Cross, frowning. “She should be out soon, shouldn’t she?” I asked.
“I’m here,” Hazel said, and I stood up so quickly that I almost knocked Joshua over. I put my hand on his shoulder, steadying him before letting go. He slid his hand into mine and his other into his mom’s.
I gave it a squeeze and looked down at the kid.
“She’ll be okay, right?” Joshua asked.
“Yes, she will,” Hazel answered for all of us, and my shoulders sagged. I leaned against the chair slightly. I gave Joshua’s hand another squeeze, and he did the same back before letting go and holding his mom around the waist.
The doors opened again, and Macon and Nate were there, practically storming in. The rest of the waiting room stared at us, and I didn’t blame them. Especially considering that the Brady brothers were pretty big dudes and we took up a lot of space. Now, there was a whole group of us waiting. I only needed to know if Paris was going to be okay.
“She’s going to be fine,” Hazel repeated. “She needs a little bit of time to get some medicine and rest. She’ll be going home soon.”
Dakota smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but Macon spoke first.
“Hey, Joshua, now that we know your Aunt Paris is doing fine, let’s go check out the vending machines.”
Dakota narrowed her eyes. “We don’t need to add sugar to this day,” she said.
“No, but we can still look,” Macon said, holding out his hand.
Joshua took it and smiled at his mom. “I’ll be fine. You guys can talk about the adult stuff while Macon takes me away.”
I held back a smile because Joshua was way too smart for his own good sometimes.
Macon and Dakota stared at each other—or rather they glared—and I waited to see what would happen.
After what seemed like forever, the standoff ended, and Dakota gave a tight nod before Macon and Joshua turned and exited the waiting room to presumably head to where the vending machines were located.
“Okay, tell us,” I said, my voice shaky. Everyone stared at me for a minute before looking back at Hazel.
“She has a mild concussion, no broken bones, a few scrapes, and one cut that might require stitches. They’re still working on that. She’s awake, a little groggy, and pissed off.”
That put a smile on my face.
“So, a pissed-off Paris seems about right,” I said, and the guys gave me a look, while the girls just smiled.
“I’m so glad that you were there,” Hazel said before reaching out to hug me. I squeezed her back, kissed the top of her head, and then moved away quickly before Cross could glare at me for touching his woman. Not that he would hurt me, but I didn’t want my brother to get any ideas.
“So, she’s going home soon?” Nate asked with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He stood by Myra, and the two of them were determinedly not looking at each other. I still didn’t know what was up between them, but I didn’t have time to deal with that right now.
“Probably tomorrow. The staff wants to keep her overnight for observation. You guys can head home. They’re not going to let anyone back there right now. And frankly, we all know that she wouldn’t want you guys to see her like this anyway.”
“You’ll keep me updated?” I asked, the urgency in my tone surprising even me.
“Of course, I will,” Hazel said, sliding her hand into Cross’s.
I swallowed hard, stuffed my hands into my pockets like Nate, and gave a tight nod.
“Sounds good. Tell her…I don’t know, just tell her I’m glad she’s okay.”
Hazel gave me a weird look, and then I smiled and walked away, Nate right behind me. Macon walked back into the waiting room as we were leaving and raised his brows.
“Everything’s okay. We’re headed home.”
“Sounds good. I’ll follow you out. Let me just get this guy back to his mom.”
“I’m good on my own,” Joshua said.
Macon snorted. “Sure you are, kid. Do we honestly want your mom to rip me a new one for letting you walk around by yourself in a place that we don’t know?”
“Fine. I am almost an adult now.”
That made me smile.
Joshua continued. “You know they’re changing the age of a teenager to my age soon.”
Macon snorted again, shook his head, and led Joshua back to where his mom was.
I met Nate’s gaze, and we both cracked up laughing, shaking our heads.
I was pretty sure I had said something similar to my parents back in the day, and it reminded me that while life moved on, some things stayed the same.
I hated that I had no idea what was going on inside me when it came to Paris. No idea what I would have done if she had been hurt more than she had.
I was still going to fucking blame myself. I should’ve been faster. Never should have left her. Should’ve found a way to keep her safe.
And I hadn’t.
I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I hadn’t run when I did. If I had gotten into my car a second earlier, I might have missed that scream. And she would have been there all alone. And God knows what would’ve happened.
That bile came back into my throat, and I swallowed it down, then got into my car, saying goodbye to my brother before heading home.
I didn’t want to talk to anybody. I didn’t want to focus on anything.
Fuck, I had forgotten somebody important.
I was supposed to meet Allison—and probably break it off.
I hadn’t even told her where I was going.
Watching my friend get hurt had pushed all thoughts of everything and everyone else out of my head. Fuck.
I couldn’t deal with this.
Allison wasn’t mine anymore, and I had to make sure she understood that. I had to figure out how to explain that we had grown in different directions.
And fuck, this was probably why I wasn’t good at relationships.
I pulled into my garage, turned off my car, and rubbed my temples.
I just wanted a beer, needed to forget the day and relax, but that wouldn’t be happening. I was going to have to call Allison and apologize for standing her up.
And then find a way to break it off because it wasn’t fair to either of us to keep this going.
I made my way into my home and frowned when I heard sounds from the back of the house.
Considering that I had just left my brothers, it couldn’t be them.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I looked around for a weapon, but then I realized who was back there.
I recognized that purse, those shoes, and even the fucking bra.
And the deep voice that went along with the very familiar feminine voice? No, she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t waiting for me.
Fuck this.
How the hell had she gotten in?
I slowly made my way to the back of the house, wondering if I should just say screw it and leave and let her have a good time in my bed.
Instead, I made it to my bedroom door, looked at my bed where the woman I was currently dating was riding her ex, a man I had met once or twice. I let out a laugh.
Because why the fuck not?
At my laugh, the man froze, his hands digging deep into her hips, but Allison turned over her shoulder and winked.
“It’s about time you got home.”
Un-fucking-believable.
“Jesus. You could’ve just texted. Isn’t that what people do these days? Is there a reason you had to fuck your ex in my bed? My bed.”
She continued moving, and the guy started shaking as if trying to dislodge her, but Allison did what she wanted.
“What? You weren’t getting me off, so I figured I’d do what I had to.”
“Seriously? That’s the line you’re going with? Fine. Get out. It’s done. It’s over. You already know this. Get out of my fucking house. And give me back the fucking key I didn’t know you had.”
“I watered your plants. So, I kept the key.”
“I don’t fucking care. Get out. Now.”
She rolled her eyes and then swiveled her hips before getting off.
I turned because there were some things I didn’t need to see and ignored the pair as the guy started grumbling low about how he’d thought this was her place.
The guy must be dumber than a bag of rocks if he thought this was her house. But whatever, I didn’t have time to worry about that right now. I just needed her out.
The guy mumbled his apologies before running out, his shoes in his hands, and his zipper undone, closing the front door behind him.
I turned to see Allison slowly putting on her earrings, her lips swollen, and her makeup smeared a bit.
“Was it worth it?”
“You tell me. You love her, you’re spending all your time with her, and all you did was leave me alone. You deserved this.”
What. The. Fuck?
“You know what, fuck you.”
“You weren’t doing that, and that was the problem. You don’t get to talk to me that way.”
“You basically broke into my house. You’re fucking your ex in my bed, and you have the nerve to say that? Do you want to know where I was? Why don’t you fucking ask me, Allison?”
“You were with her, weren’t you?”
“I was in the hospital because she got attacked in our work parking lot. I was waiting to make sure that she was alive. Whatever. We already knew this relationship was over, even before now. You just made sure to bang that nail right into the coffin.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered, her eyes wide.
“Don’t act as if you care. Get out. And leave my fucking key.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but then she left, her hands shaking. I honestly didn’t care.
We hadn’t been in a serious or healthy relationship.
I didn’t feel guilty, I couldn’t. Maybe I would later.
For now, I would call a locksmith and change my locks, just in case. I wondered what the fuck else I was going to do.
Because I didn’t love Paris, not even a little.
Yet I was attracted to her. And that was a problem on many fronts.
I had never acted on those feelings, had never done anything untoward.
Allison didn’t believe me. Though that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
Damn, I wanted that fucking beer. And to forget.
I knew I would never be able to get the sound of Paris’s scream out of my head. Not until the end of my days.
Never.
Chapter 8
Paris
Gravel scraped my chin, my face. I blinked, trying to get the cobwebs out of my mind. There was something wrong. I couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t speak. It was as if I stood in a vacuum, everything was moving too slowly, and yet I wasn’t even on my feet. I couldn’t make sense of it at all. Nothing made sense.
My cheek hurt, and my hands ached where my palms bled from where the gravel had pierced. My knees burned, as well. And then I was on my back, and someone’s hands were around my throat. I clawed, my fingernails digging in but not gaining purchase in the gloves. Why was the person wearing gloves? Had they been prepared for this? Why couldn’t I focus? Why couldn’t I think?
I kicked and thrashed, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t going to be enough.
I gasped out a name, but not my own, not even a call for help.
Tracey.
Tracey wasn’t here.
She was dead.
My baby sister was dead, and I wasn’t near the trailer. Instead, I was dying here, begging for someone to help me. And yet nobody could help.
I was little, too young to remember, and yet far too old to forget.
I was wearing the same clothes I’d had on when they killed her, and I was now covered in blood and screaming.
This time, the shadow above me turned into the man or woman who had attacked me.
I knew this had to be a dream. Or maybe a memory.
Perhaps I was mixing them up, but I couldn’t focus enough to pull myself out of the nightmare.
I couldn’t scream or slap my face or pinch my arms or do anything to pull myself out of the dream.
Nothing worked.
And the hands around my neck clutched harder.
I blinked, and the woman above me had my eyes and my smile, but there was something evil in it.
“Mom.”
She didn’t answer. She just kept squeezing.
She was killing me. My mother was killing me.
Like she’d helped to kill Tracey.
I blinked again, and it was no longer her.
Now, it was my dad.
And just like my mom, he wasn’t the age he should be now. He was the same age he had been when he killed me.
No, not me. My sister. When he killed Tracey.
There was no going back. There was no fixing this.
I was dying, screaming.
Help.
Then, somebody helped me.
“Paris.”
“Paris.”
My eyes shot open, and I sat up and screamed.
Suddenly, Dakota was there, holding me softly as I cried against her neck, her hands smoothing down my hair and holding me close.
I clung to her as I never had before. I hadn’t let anybody hold me like this before.
No, that wasn’t the case, was it? I had cried in the others’ hold when they were here for me throughout the past week when I woke up and screamed because the nightmares were back. There was no holding them back any longer.
“You’re safe. You’re here. I’ve got you.”
I pulled away then, needing to suck in gulps of air as I wiped my face.
“I’m sorry.”
Dakota looked at me and shook her head. “Stop it. Do not be sorry.”
“I hate crying on you. I already cried on
everyone else.”
Dakota smiled softly, looking more motherly than I had ever seen her before. “The fact that you trust me enough to even cry in my presence means a lot. And you’re allowed to feel like this. You’re allowed to be scared. Something horrible happened. But you’re safe.”
“Maybe.” I ran my hands over my face a few times and then let out a breath.
“My ribs hurt.”
“I’m not surprised. They’re bruised. So much so that the doctor thought it might have been better if you had broken one.”
I tried to laugh and then held my side as I let out a slow breath. “Great. Breaking me would be better than what I’m feeling right now,” I grumbled. “I hate sounding like I’m riding the pity train.”
“You’re allowed to do that for the next few hours. I’ll give you that time. And then, after that, we’ll take you off the train and get you into some coping mechanisms. I’m sure between the four of us, we can probably figure those out.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled—the first real one I’d had since the attack.
“I still can’t believe they have no idea who it was,” I said, slowly rolling out of bed. Dakota was there in an instant, helping me up, and I leaned into her, hating that I felt so weak. I had no broken bones, a few stitches, and some very bruised ribs. My concussion was the worst of it, and I was still on concussion protocol, but so far, it looked like I was out of the woods. So much so that I was going back to work on Monday. My boss, the asshole that he was, had griped about having to give me a week off, but my doctor had gone to bat for me. And so had Prior. He didn’t know that I knew, but I had heard through the grapevine, namely Hazel, that he had fought for me.
I didn’t know what to think about that.
He had fought for me to have time to heal, had physically battled for me, too when I was in the parking lot. He had fought for me. Had probably saved my life.
And I hadn’t heard from him at all.
I knew he was giving me space, but it still felt weird. And then it felt weirder that it felt strange, considering that he was nothing to me except for a new friend and a coworker.
His name had been on the card from my company when they sent flowers and a bagel basket with a fantastic spread of cream cheeses. Everybody’s name had been on the card except Benji’s, and I was happy about that because I didn’t even want to look at that man’s name in my house.
From That Moment Page 8