From That Moment

by Carrie Ann Ryan

“I’m kind of glad that it worked out the way it did. I know that’s weird. I think we needed to like each other as friends first, or at least as acquaintances before we went on a date. I don’t think a blind date would have worked well for Prior and me.”

  “Considering that you grumbled at him the first time you met him? Probably not.”

  “I feel kind of bad about that.”

  “He grumbled right back. It was probably a form of flirting.”

  I laughed. “Probably.”

  “Anyway, it’s nice to see the two of you together. Gives me hope.”

  I didn’t know if I should move the subject to her. “For your blind date?”

  Dakota shuddered. “Yes. Let’s not talk about that.”

  “You’re next, though.”

  “Maybe we’ll take a break or skip over to Myra.”

  “We both know that’s not how this works. I take it you don’t want us fishing in the same pool that Hazel and I seem to be bathing in?”

  “Let’s not talk about that. I have a feeling that Myra and Nate have their own thing going on.”

  “I think they are acting weird, too. I thought that was just my mind playing tricks.”

  “I don’t know. However, she’s good about not looking at him.”

  “Maybe he offended her in some way.”

  “Maybe. Or perhaps I’m seeing things that aren’t there because I do not want to go on a date. Ever.”

  “You were the one who helped us come up with this whole pact idea.”

  “You’re right. Yet you tried to give up.”

  “After terrible blind dates. Truly disastrous ones.”

  “I want to apologize for the orgy again.”

  “We’ve already discussed that we don’t know if it was going to be an actual orgy or only a threesome.”

  “True, true.” She paused. “I don’t want to do this whole dating thing,” Dakota repeated, her voice soft.

  “Okay,” I said, leaning forward. “We don’t need to. We can skip to Myra or quit it altogether. Don’t get that tone in your voice, okay?”

  Dakota gave me a soft smile and shook her head before her eyes brightened again. Then she smiled like normal.

  “Joshua’s off with his friends, and my lunch break is almost over. I have to get back to the café.”

  “I could have gone in there today, you know.”

  “I know. I needed to leave, needed to breathe, and I thought I’d see one of my best friends.”

  “Still, I’m the best of the best, right?” I asked.

  “Sure, Paris. Whatever you say.” She kissed my cheek, and then I walked her to the door, closing it behind her after she left.

  I flipped the locks and then went back to my kitchen, cleaning up the mess from my pastry. Dakota didn’t always have a lot of time off, and while we usually all met at her café when we could, she also liked to leave the place. Apparently, today meant a trip to my house.

  I still wasn’t quite sure how I’d gotten here. A lazy Sunday afternoon while getting all of my housework stuff done and getting prepared for the next day at work. Yet I wouldn’t be doing it alone. Prior was on his way over, and he was even going to use his key to get into the house.

  My boyfriend—yes, a title and label and everything—was coming over to my house, using his key to get inside, and we were going to make dinner, plan for the week, and probably fuck hard on my counter.

  Or maybe the couch.

  Or perhaps both places. But either way, we were going to fuck loudly, and I was excited about that.

  And, honestly, it wasn’t only fucking. We made love.

  Something I had always giggled about and said that I was doing to pastries like earlier rather than someone I cared for.

  Somebody I loved.

  I loved Prior Brady.

  Today, I was going to tell him.

  Somehow, in this mess of who I was, this complicated array of finding a relationship, I had fallen in love with somebody.

  And while I hoped to hell that he loved me too, I would understand if he needed more time. Honestly, I didn’t know what a respectable amount of time for someone to fall in love was. I had never done the math on it before, nor did I know if there was even any math to do.

  Either way, I had to fess up to my feelings and hope that he didn’t run away.

  Or say: “I care about you,” or “I like you,” “I respect you.” Or…“I need more time.”

  And hopefully, there wouldn’t be a Prior-shaped hole in the door.

  Most people probably would have been able to say those three words that meant so much in the heat of the moment.

  Not me.

  I needed time. I needed the perfect time. Well, perhaps not perfect. But enough time where I could work through what I needed to say and not have it come out in a garbled mess.

  It was probably still going to come out that way. At least I had rehearsed some of it and had gone through and untangled as much of my feelings as possible.

  I didn’t want it to only be lust or infatuation. I didn’t want it to be the excitement of having somebody I could rely on and see myself with.

  I’d already been through so much with him, and I didn’t want to mess things up by moving to this next step too quickly.

  We already had each other’s keys. That meant something, didn’t it?

  And not just ease of access.

  I winced, cleaned off my counter, sanitizing as much as I could and thinking about exactly what we had done on the kitchen floor the day before.

  I hummed to myself, grinning.

  I was pretty sure my knees were a bit bruised, and so was his back. But it had been worth it.

  I could not wait to do it again. Maybe this time in a comfy bed. After all, I had memory foam, and it cradled my muscles and joints perfectly. It was probably better for us to have scorching, dirty sex there where we could protect ourselves so we could keep doing it again.

  I laughed at myself, humming a tune as I went about cleaning the rest of the house, waiting for Prior to get here while enjoying my time alone.

  The sound of glass breaking echoed in my ears, and I blinked, wondering if something had fallen. I’d cleaned out my vases, so maybe that was it. I didn’t think so, though.

  And then a shadow covered me, and a hand clamped over my mouth.

  I screamed, thrashing. Arms became a vise around my middle, the hand around my mouth tightening. I struggled, trying to get free. I couldn’t. Whoever had me tightened their hold, pulling and tugging. I tried to scream, attempted to get away. They dragged me out of the kitchen and towards the living room. I kicked, moving around, trying to figure out who it was.

  The man, at least it felt like a man, pushed me down to the floor, and I screamed.

  And I looked up, recognizing the shape and the build and the clothes of the person who had attacked me in the parking lot.

  “Why?” I asked, trying to crawl away.

  Another person stepped out of the shadows and kicked me hard in the side. They were wearing high-heeled shoes with pointy toes, and I swore I felt something break. I groaned, trying to roll away. Then the woman was on her knees, punching me, slapping my face and pulling at my hair. The man was there too, kicking, his hands around my throat as he tried to strangle me. I pushed away, trying to save myself, trying to do something. Anything. They were so strong together, though.

  There were two of them, and it didn’t matter that they were older, the woman weaker than me, because I was outnumbered.

  And then the man squeezed enough that my airway got blocked, and I thought I saw stars.

  Then the woman backed away and slapped the man on the back of the head. He released me, and I gasped for breath, clutching at my throat, trying to breathe. The man took my hands and pinned them above my head, his whole body pinning me down.

  “You bitch,” the woman snarled, and then I got a good look at her, at her dry hair, her wide, manic eyes, and the snarl that was so familiar.

  �
�Mom?” I asked, disbelieving.

  “Don’t you call me that, you whore. You’re nothing. You were always a waste of space. And now look at you, thinking you’re all high and mighty with your big house and your big fuck toy. You’re nothing. You sent me to jail. Do you know what they do to people in jail? I didn’t deserve to go there. Your daddy might have because he was a sick son of a bitch. I never did. I was a good mom. And you sent me there.”

  “You killed Tracey.” I expected the slap. I didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did.

  Blood filled my mouth, and I blinked, trying to focus again. My head had hit the floor hard when I fell, and the lack of oxygen for that moment hadn’t helped.

  “Don’t you dare speak to me. You sent me to jail, and you did nothing. You paid for nothing. You have this perfect life, one that I should have had. But no, I had to have you and your little brat sister. Well, fuck you. You’re finally going to get what you deserve. And Kenny here is going to make sure that happens.”

  “Anything you want, baby,” Kenny said, breaking his gaze on me.

  I shivered, bile rising in my throat.

  “I got myself a new man. Your daddy ain’t worth nothing. Never was. Kenny here? He did good for me. Always did. You remember him, honey, you met him when you were a little girl at our house.”

  “I remember her,” Kenny said, and I froze, my body recoiling.

  I remember Kenny. He had been one of the men who had watched Tracey and me when we were younger. And now, apparently, Mom was with him. And she was out of jail. It had been her. It had always been her.

  “You’ve been watching me.”

  It wasn’t a question, but my mother answered anyway. “Yes, we had to make sure we could get in. Make you pay. And they’re going to blame your father. Because he’s the one who got the worst charges. And now he’s out of jail, and I can finally get what I want. Revenge.”

  Mom stood up, began to pace, stretching her arms. She was high on something or coming down. I wasn’t sure which. I was going to die today. I knew it. I didn’t have my phone on me. I didn’t have a weapon. And both Mom and Kenny were stronger than me in this state.

  I was going to die unless I could find a way out of this. Though I wasn’t sure I could.

  Mom walked towards the kitchen, pacing again before I could say anything. A key slid into the lock, and tears started to prick at my eyes. No, it couldn’t be. Please. Not now.

  The door opened, and Prior walked through, a smile on his face until he turned into the living room and saw the tableau in front of him.

  Me on the floor, kicking and screaming, the man above me, pinning me down and ready to kill me.

  He didn’t see what was behind him.

  And even as I screamed for him, “Prior, behind you,” it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t fast enough.

  The light above shone on the blade as it arced down towards Prior’s back. He shouted, turned. It was too much.

  My mother stood, that manic gleam in her eyes as she looked down at Prior as he fell to his knees, the knife in his back, blood pooling all around him.

  I screamed again.

  I didn’t think anyone would hear me.

  Because the only person who might have, was right in front of me, dying before my eyes.

  And there was nothing I could do about it.

  Chapter 17

  Prior

  * * *

  I sucked in a shallow breath, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. I didn’t think I had time to even focus on that. I turned over, wincing at the pain lancing through my system. I was on my side, and then there was another tug on my back, and someone was screaming.

  Was it me? No, I didn’t think I was screaming. Who was making that noise?

  Paris. Paris was hurt. I was hurt. Someone had stabbed me? No, that couldn’t be. I’d just walked in the door, and now, everything hurt. Everything ached. I was warm, too warm, and then I was cold. What the fuck?

  My body shook, and I did my best to keep moving, to figure out exactly what I was supposed to do. Only I wasn’t moving. And I wasn’t thinking.

  And then I heard Paris’s scream again, her shout. And I could think again. There was pain, fiery pain that burned every inch of me. I couldn’t think clearly.

  I rolled to my front again, my back aching, blood pooling around me. I looked up at the shadow above me. The older woman wasn’t looking at me. No, she was looking at Paris.

  Grinding my teeth through the pain, I moved to my hands and knees and slowly staggered to my feet, leaning against the wall for support. I knew I was leaving blood everywhere, and I didn’t know what she had stabbed me with or even how deep the wound had gone. All I knew was that it hurt, and if I wasn’t careful, I could bleed out here and die. Die without ever being able to fight back, not even knowing the name of the woman who had hurt me.

  However, that didn’t matter right now.

  I had to make sure Paris was okay.

  I staggered forward and threw myself on top of the man who was looming over Paris.

  I grabbed his shoulders, rolling to my back and screaming.

  I didn’t think the knife, or whatever had stabbed me, was still there, thank God, but my wound was. And it hurt. Then, I didn’t feel much because I was rolling around on the floor with whoever the fuck had been attacking Paris.

  Paris screamed again, kicking out, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her get to her feet and punch the woman in the face.

  I frowned, trying to figure out what was happening. I felt like I was two steps behind.

  And then the man in front of me had his arms around my neck, trying to strangle me. I moved out of the way, rolled, taking him with me, and then I punched. Punched and pounded and used my fists. I didn’t know if it was enough, but I was bigger than he was. And probably stronger, even if I was in pain.

  I had to focus. Had to get this right.

  Paris had to be okay.

  “Prior!” she yelled. I couldn’t focus. Not again.

  “You think he’s going to save you?” the woman asked.

  “Fuck you!” Paris yelled, and I pushed the man off me and then punched him one last time, this time hard enough that I was afraid I had broken my hand. I didn’t care. With the amount of blood all around me, I wasn’t sure I would make it past the living room to even notice a broken hand later.

  That grim thought in mind, I staggered over the unconscious man under me and crawled towards Paris.

  She knelt above the other woman, slapping and hitting, tears streaming down her face.

  And then the woman was unconscious, as well. I reached out and tried to grab Paris’s arm to hold her back.

  “Paris.”

  She froze, then looked over at me, her eyes wide and her face drained of all color.

  “Oh my God, Prior. Stay with me.”

  What was she talking about? I was with her. I was totally with her. Wasn’t I?

  Time passed, and then there was crying, tears seeping into my shoulder, and I was on my side, someone pressing something to my back, but I didn’t know who or what. The two bodies around us weren’t moving. Were they dead? Was I?

  I didn’t know. Then my head was in Paris’s lap, and she was crying, speaking to me. I couldn’t understand.

  She simply held me, whispered my name.

  And all I could think of was that I hadn’t done much. She had protected herself, and all I had done was get hurt.

  “You saved me,” she whispered. “You saved me.”

  “You saved yourself.”

  At least that’s what I thought I said. It came out as a garbled mess, and Paris tried harder. Her tears were salty on my face, or maybe that was the blood pooling in my mouth.

  I wasn’t a hundred percent sure anymore. Everything hurt.

  I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want this to be the last time I saw Paris. I wanted to be able to say goodbye to the people that I loved. To tell her that I loved her.

  I didn’t think
I was going to get that chance. The last thing I heard before I fell back asleep, at least I hoped it was sleep and not death, was a whisper.

  It couldn’t be true. I must’ve been imagining things. “Don’t die. I love you, too.”

  And then there was nothing. Only darkness.

  At least the pain had gone away.

  Chapter 18

  Paris

  I paced back and forth in the waiting room, the cut over my eye bandaged from where I had somehow hurt myself when I fell. I was bruised, sore, and would have trouble speaking for the next few days because of the bruises around my neck. But I was alive. All because of the man that I loved. The guy who I wasn’t sure would survive.

  Because, somehow, he had walked into a nightmare, my nightmare, and had almost died. Was still in danger.

  I would never forgive myself if he didn’t make it out of this. Fuck, I might not ever forgive myself as it was.

  “Sit down,” Macon growled, and I looked up at Prior’s brother, startled.

  “Did you just growl at me?” I asked.

  “Now sit your fucking ass down.”

  “Don’t curse at her.”

  Macon raised at brow at Dakota’s tone.

  “I’m sorry. How about you sit your pretty ass down?”

  That made me snort, even as Dakota’s eyes narrowed.

  I did, however, sit my ass down in a chair. I gripped the edges of the seat, my hands shaking, practically in my own world as I fought for air.

  I had already spoken with numerous doctors and nurses and the police. They had taken my statement and had questioned me for over an hour.

  They’d been very apologetic, quite understanding, actually.

  Now, they were gone, doing what they needed to do as they took my mother and her boyfriend away.

  I would deal with the consequences of what had happened later. I would take care of the blood in my home, the shattered glass, the screams that still echoed in my mind.

  I would handle all of it.

  As long as the love of my life was okay.

  “You didn’t need to be so rude to her,” Dakota snapped.