Page 85 of Forever Only Once

Chapter 20

Cross

Two weeks.Two weeks of doctor appointments and healing and cursing and changing bandages. But now I was home. And alone.

Well, not completely alone. My brothers each took shifts at the house, along with my sister and some of the Montgomerys. At first, they had wanted to put Macon and me in the same house so we could heal together, but both of us had wanted to be in our own homes to heal where we could feel a bit normal. At least, as normal as you could be with two of five family members getting shot in a twenty-minute period.

Macon wasn’t really talking to me, and I didn’t know how I felt about that. We needed to talk about what was wrong, but I knew I wasn’t in any place to figure that out yet.

And I was stewing in my own blame, trying to figure out how I could have been so wrong about Chris.

I knew Hazel blamed herself, there was no denying that.

I had to figure out how to fix this.

Needed to make this better.

I knew she was in pain, but there was nothing I could do about it when I was still stuck at home, trying to heal from wounds that took time. I wanted her by my side, but I knew she was scared, and I didn’t want to stress her out. I’d fallen for her, but I didn’t know how she felt about me.

I would never forget seeing her lying there, trying to save herself, struggling to get out of her restraints.

I could never un-hear the sounds of her screams, never un-see the look on her face when she stood there, gun in hand, a dead man at her feet.

I would have done anything to save her from the actions she had been forced to take because of a man hell-bent on having her.

I just hadn’t realized that the man I had trusted with half of my business, the guy I had called my friend, would also end up being so cruel.

My hands shook. and I shifted on the couch a bit, careful of my tender new skin and wound.

I was doing fine, healing like I should. While physical therapy was a bitch, I was doing well. So was Macon.

But none of us were really talking about the fact that we had almost died. It was like it was too difficult to even contemplate putting those words together to form a sentence.

Add to that the fact that Hazel wasn’t here, and I had no idea what the fuck I was doing.

I loved her. I fucking loved her, but I couldn’t help her.

I had called her once. She hadn’t answered, so I hadn’t called again.

Maybe that was on me. Perhaps I should have pushed, but I knew she needed space. She had told me so herself.

I also knew the women in her life wouldn’t leave her alone completely.

So she wasn’t sitting alone, trying to contemplate what she was going to do. The fact that Arden had told me that the girls were watching her gave me some solace.

At least she wasn’t completely alone.

But then again, neither was I. Today, I was, since I was on a break between shifts of the Bradys and Montgomerys. I had no one else around.

It was just me, sitting and trying to figure out what the fuck to do.

I really wasn’t good at contemplating my life.

My business had burned to the ground, and there would be inquiries about that—beyond Chris and what he had done that night. And that was fine, it gave me time to think.

The pieces inside the shop that had burned hadn’t been those for commission, they were ones I had made for myself. It hurt to lose them, but I had already moved my paperwork, files, and the important pieces to my home studio.

I’d had to answer to the cops about that, but when I’d explained about Chris and all of the financial audits we were about to go through, they understood.