Scintillation (Stars Align Book 3)

by Kate Stacy

  No one responds right away, so I look around, happy to see that nothing has changed.

  “Welcome to Three Kings,” says a voice I don’t recognize.

  I spin around, ready to meet someone new, but I stumble.

  Catching my balance, I make no move to step forward. I stand frozen, tilting my head and blinking in confusion.

  I feel like I entered the Twilight Zone.

  This guy looks like Adam.

  But he’s not Adam.

  He either doesn’t see my struggle, or he doesn’t care. He moves toward me, holding his hand out for me to shake as his eyes roam over my body.

  “Hey, doll. I’m Felix. What brings you in today?”

  I don’t take his hand. In fact, I take a step back.

  I’m all types of fucking confused. I have no idea what’s going on here and I’m honestly starting to feel a little weirded out by the Adam lookalike.

  His brows furrow and he drops his hand. “Is...everything all right?”

  “I…”

  “Presley! I thought I heard your voice.”

  Speaking of voices, Cannon pops around the corner and relief fills me at the sound of his.

  “Oh...shit.” Seeing my discomfort, he rushes over and throws his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close to him.

  “Presley, meet Felix. Felix, this is Presley. She’s Adam’s...well, she’s Adam’s.”

  He looks down at me and lifts his shoulder innocently, but my eyebrow still pops in question.

  “Ah. That explains a lot.”

  “I’m glad you’ve got it all figured out because I still have no idea what the fuck is going on.”

  Both men chuckle, but Cannon takes pity on poor little me and explains. Kinda.

  “Felix is Adam’s twin.”

  “I wasn’t aware that Adam had a twin.”

  Felix snorts. “Yeah, neither were we.”

  My eyes bounce back and forth between the two men. I feel like there’s some sort of inside joke that I’m not privy to.

  “Long story short. Neither of them knew about each other, until Felix came in for a job interview,” he says. It makes a little more sense, but I’m sure there’s more to the story. “Don’t worry, Presley. My reaction was pretty much the same as yours. Feels a little like the Twilight Zone, huh?”

  I burst into laughter. I can’t fucking help it.

  This entire situation is incredibly strange.

  “Oh my god. I had the same thought. It was either that, or someone slipped me some damn good drugs. Glad to know I’m not trippin’. It’s nice to meet you, Felix.”

  I hold out my hand, feeling a little like a bitch for my earlier reaction. He’s obviously not offended because he shakes my hand and winks.

  “Okayyyy.” I pull away and fake a shiver to hide my cringe. “That’s just weird. Don’t do that.”

  He laughs. “Sorry, doll.”

  “So is Adam here somewhere?”

  “Sorry, babe,” Cannon says. “He took some personal time and went down to Florida.”

  “Damn. I was hoping to get a small tattoo. He can’t do my other thigh for a while, but I was hoping he’d be willing to give me something else in the meantime.”

  “Got the itch, huh?” he teases.

  “Something like that. I want two lines of text. ‘But without the dark, we’d never see the stars.’ Right here,” I say, gesturing to my right side where the band of my bra comes across. I push my tongue into my cheek for a second while I think. Fuck it, I’m gonna take a chance. “Adam’s not here...so will you do it?”

  “Nope.” He crosses his arms over his chest and automatically shakes his head.

  “I will,” Felix says.

  Cannon chuckles darkly. “Only if you want it to be the last tattoo you ever do.” He shakes his head at Felix’s confusion and explains. “Adam would fucking kill you, man. No one inks her but him.”

  “Come on, Cannon! Adam and I aren’t even together. He doesn’t even need to know. He has no claim on me.” I try to plead my case, but Cannon isn’t hearing it.

  “You and I both know that’s a goddamn lie, Presley. You might not be officially together, but it doesn’t change the facts. You’re his in the same way that he’s yours. A little ink isn’t worth fucking that up and you know it would. He’d be pissed at me, pissed at you. It would only make things worse, and the two of you have enough to work out.”

  “This is ridiculous, Cannon. It’s my body. I should be the one to decide who gets to touch it.”

  Felix opens his mouth to speak, but Cannon points his finger at him. “Don’t.”

  He turns back to me and I cross my arms over my chest. “Your body is yours, but the shop is Adam’s and we’re all under strict orders not to touch you. I’ve got love for you, babe, but I’ve got too much respect for Adam—as my brother and my boss—to go against his wishes.”

  I shake my head, frustration building.

  “I’m not trying to be a dick here, Presley, I’m really not. But I don’t wanna be in the middle of this. Come back in a couple days. Adam will be back by then. The two of you can settle your shit, he can ink you, and you two can live happily ever after.”

  “If only it were that easy.”

  The fight drains out of me.

  “I knew coming here was a mistake. I should have just gone to another shop.” I hang my head and walk toward the door. “It was good seeing you, Cannon. Nice meeting you, Felix.”

  “Presley…” I look behind me at a sympathetic Cannon. “I’m sorry.”

  I shrug and leave without another word.

  I won’t go to another shop. I’m so full of shit.

  Deep down, I don’t really want anyone else to tattoo me.

  I want Adam.

  Maybe I’ll do what Cannon says and come back in a couple days.

  Until then, I’ll go back to my life without him.

  Work. Books. Beauty.

  All the things I love.

  But all I want is him.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Adam

  The buzz of the machine stops, and the room fills with silence.

  “Done?” I ask.

  Cannon removes his gloves with a snap and nods toward the mirror on the wall.

  I stand, moving in front of it to see the full view of my new ink.

  Black crowns fit for a king and queen against bright watercolor, large enough to take up most of my left pec.

  It embodies everything that makes us who we are.

  My dark to her light.

  Equal parts masculine and feminine.

  “It’s fucking perfect, brother. Thank you.”

  He nods. “Let’s wrap it up.”

  Cannon’s a little pissed at me right now, so he’s being more short with me than usual.

  He told me about Presley coming in the other day and he feels like an asshole for upsetting her. He’ll get over it and so will she. Maybe that makes me the asshole, but I don’t care. It’s not that I’m a possessive motherfucker (okay, I’m totally a possessive caveman, but I won’t apologize), it’s that I don’t trust Presley’s body in anyone else’s hands. Not even the hands of my brothers.

  She’s too goddamn precious to me.

  She’s everything.

  And unfortunately...she hasn’t come back.

  He mentioned her offhand comment about going to another shop, but I’m not worried. If she were going to go somewhere else, she would have gone there instead of coming here. She might not realize it, but she came here specifically for me. I hate that I missed her.

  Because I still miss her.

  It’s becoming increasingly hard to stay away from her.

  I know I told Noah that I was going to let her come to me, but that idea went out the window the second we rolled back into Blackwood.

  I don’t have the willpower to resist the draw to her anymore.

  Before I can go to her though, I ha
ve to find a way to get back in her good graces.

  I may not have been the direct cause of her self-harm, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t hurt her. I know damn well I did, and I still haven’t apologized to her for the pain I caused.

  “Think Presley will ever forgive me and give me a second chance?” I ask Cannon as he covers the fresh ink.

  “Forgiveness requires an apology, Adam.”

  “It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than an apology.”

  “At least you know it.”

  “Got any ideas? I’ve never had to beg the woman I love for forgiveness before.”

  He looks up at me, but I can’t read his expression.

  “You love her?”

  “With every last piece of me.”

  He nods and goes back to taping. “You need a grand gesture. It’s gotta be something big.”

  “You could name a star after her like the guy from A Walk to Remember,” Trace says, popping his head into the room. “It might not be a huge gesture, but I’m not sure if she has a bucket list. You already gave the girl a tattoo. Unless you plan to marry her in the church where her parents were married, the star thing might be your safest bet.”

  “Got something you wanna tell me, man?” I lift a teasing brow.

  “Nah. Serenade her in front of the whole town,” Cannon suggests. I give him a look and he shrugs. “Worked for that curly haired dude in 10 Things I Hate About You. It wasn’t the whole town, but her whole team. Basically the same thing.”

  “The Princess Bride is the way to go. Pursue her endlessly and eventually she’ll give in,” Ryker says, pushing past Trace to get into the room.

  Deacon follows. “Propose to her in the pouring rain. That’s some Pride & Prejudice shit right there. Girls trip all over themselves for that story. Be her Mr. Darcy.”

  “Y’all are a bunch of nosey motherfuckers,” I say with a laugh.

  “Go old school, man. Pull a John Cusack and stand outside her window with a boombox,” Trace suggests.

  At this point, almost every member of my crew is packed into one small room and I can only shake my head and laugh. This is ridiculousness at its finest.

  “Give her a library.”

  There’s the last one.

  Felix squeezes his large frame through the door and joins the party.

  “At this point...I think you need to worry less about how I can fix shit with Presley, and more about the fact that I plan on revoking your fuckin’ man cards. Every single one of you. Who knew a bunch of tattooed misfits would be such big, mushy romantics?”

  “Hey, man. You understood the references,” Deacon says, defending the lot of them.

  “I had a younger sister and she loved watching that girly shit. What’s your excuse?” I ask, pinning him with a stern stare and raised brows.

  “I grew up with you and your sister,” Cannon says, and I can’t argue his logic. He was at my house more often than not.

  “I enjoy getting laid.” This from Ryker with a shrug. I expect nothing less from him.

  “Jesus Christ.” I laugh, massaging my temples. “I can’t with y’all. I really can’t.”

  I sit my ass back down in the chair and look around at the Three Kings crew. I didn’t ask for their help, but I like that they care enough to try.

  “Okay, first of all...” I point to Deacon. “A proposal is out of the question. We’re not there yet. I haven’t even told her I love her.”

  He only shrugs and leans back against the door frame.

  “Pursuing her relentlessly...I can work with that. I have no intentions of letting her go, but I need something bigger than that. Say Anything is out of the question,” The guys laugh. “I don’t own a boombox and she lives in an apartment. On the third floor.”

  I look at Cannon. “Serenading her is a negative. I can’t sing for shit and it’s been done already.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ve heard stories. Something about Jaxon’s friend Drake and One Direction karaoke.” I shrug. “Moving on...the star thing? I might be able to work with that, but I’m not sure it’s what I’m looking for. And a library? That would be fucking perfect, but I lack the means to make that happen.”

  Felix grins. “Bitches love libraries.”

  “Refer to Presley as a bitch again and I’ll break your face.” I point at him and shoot a glare in his direction.

  He holds his hands up in surrender, but the grin doesn’t drop from his face. Asshole.

  “In all seriousness, Adam. You need to do something special. Not necessarily big or over the top, but something that will speak to her on a level only you can reach. I heard you say that an apology isn’t enough, and you’re right. You do need some sort of gesture. I’d say you’re already off to a good start.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He nods toward my chest. “That’s you and her. That’s forever. From what I gather, ink brought the two of you together, so it’s a good way to show her how you feel. A tattoo isn’t enough, but you should be able to come up with something that will mean the most to her. It doesn’t have to be difficult.”

  He’s right.

  “You’re absolutely fuckin’ right.”

  “I know this.”

  Ryker gives me a contemplative look. “Looks like the wheels are spinnin’. You know what you’re gonna do?”

  “I have a few ideas, but I might need a little help.” I look around the room. “Which one of y’all can take a decent picture?”

  “I got you,” Deacon says, and I suddenly remember the black and white prints hanging in his area. He took those himself.

  “Bet. All right, gentleman…” Boisterous laughter drowns me out. “Yeah, yeah. You’re all a bunch of heathens. Listen up. Here’s the plan…”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Presley

  I turn the light off at Stacks not long after the last customer leaves. It’s an early night since there wasn’t much work left for me to do. I grab my purse and hoodie and head out, locking the door behind me. I turn to walk to my car and almost jump out of my skin.

  “Christ, Derrick! You scared the shit out of me,” I say, holding my hand to my chest. “Put a damn bell around your neck or something.”

  “Meow.” He claws the air and hisses at me.

  “You’re ridiculous,” I laugh. I head for my car and he follows close behind.

  “Where ya goooooo-ing?” He singsongs.

  “Uhhh. Home?”

  “Ah ah ah. I made plans for us, my pretty. We’re going out,” he says, grabbing my elbow and tugging me in the opposite direction. “I’m parked over here. You can ride with me and we’ll get your car later.”

  “Derrick, I don’t want to go out.” I try to pull away, but he’s strong for a guy with such a slim frame. “Derrick! Seriously. I’m not dressed for a night out. I’m in leggings for fuck’s sake.”

  “You’re gorgeous, stop it. Besides, if I let you go, you’re going to go home, sit on your couch, and sulk.” He gives me a chance to argue, but I don’t bother. It’d only be a waste of breath. “That’s what I thought. We’re done with all that. No more! You’re going to go to the bar with me and we’re going to have a good time.”

  “Tacos and tequila?” I ask with a playful pout.

  “Of course, my pretty. Tacos and tequila with a side of sexy bartenders.” He shivers dramatically. “Mmm. I hope Noah is working.”

  “Fine,” I say with an eye roll. “You win. Hold this.” I push my purse into his waiting hands and slip my hoodie on over my tee.

  I slide into the passenger seat of Derrick’s itty-bitty car and buckle my seatbelt. The drive is quick—not that it takes a long time to get anywhere in this town—and Derrick pulls around back, parking in the spaces reserved for staff.

  I texted Holden on the way, so he’s waiting at the back door when we arrive. As much as I love Derrick, I really don’t want to be here, which means I definitely don’t
want to fight through the crowd inside.

  Holden comes over to open my door for me, taking my hand to help me out.

  “Hey baby girl,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple. “How you doin’?”

  “I’d be better if I were at home, enjoying tacos and tequila from the comfort of my couch,” I tell him. I purse my lips and give Derrick a heavy dose of side-eye.

  “Suck it up, princess. Let’s go inside.”

  The nickname causes a little pang in my chest and I pause for a second before forcing a smile and moving to follow Derrick. He didn’t see my little moment, but Holden sure as hell didn’t miss it.

  “You good?” he whispers.

  “Yeah,” I say softly. He looks at me, needing to be sure. After what happened, I don’t blame him. “I’m good, Holden. Promise.” The smile I give him is genuine.

  Holden has always had a close relationship with all three of us girls, but after my breakdown, I feel even closer to him than I did before.

  “That’s what I like to hear. Let’s get in there and get you your tacos and tequila, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I laugh. “Like Derrick gave me a choice. He practically kidnapped me.”

  He leads me to the bar, where Derrick sits, instead of our usual table in the back. Once I’ve got my ass planted on a stool, Holden hops over the bar top and leans against it.

  “You two want your regular?”

  “Yes, please!” Derrick says with dramatic flair.

  Holden lines up two shots, sliding a small bowl of lime wedges and a saltshaker across the bar.

  “Cheers. Be back in a couple minutes. Gonna go back and tell Henley to bring the tacos,” he says, tossing me a wink over his shoulder.

  “Your brother’s so dreamy,” Derrick fawns, grabbing both shot glasses.

  He hands me mine after I sprinkle a little salt on my wrist and lick it. We clink the tiny glasses together and down them at the same time.

  “I wonder if he’s open to body shots,” he muses.

  I cough and sputter around the lime wedge between my lips.