by Kate Stacy
It doesn’t even matter now.
He doesn’t matter.
Elena is gone now too, and according to these documents...he’s not my biological father.
He walked out on his family and never looked back.
I wonder if he knew.
It damn sure came as a surprise to me.
When my mom died, Julia packed all her belongings and put them in a storage unit. I never bothered with any of it until Ryan asked me to move to North Carolina with him and I finally decided to go through her things.
I’d had no fuckin’ clue I was about to open Pandora’s box.
Mom had enough secrets to irrevocably damage not only me, but my sister as well. I’m only thankful that Elena never knew what I know now. Or maybe she did. Maybe she somehow discovered her truths. Maybe that’s why she turned to drugs and alcohol. Maybe it’s why she threw her life away.
I’ll never know.
I’m left with too many questions, not enough answers, and a deep-seated feeling of discontent.
Since learning the truth, I’ve felt unsettled and incomplete.
Something is missing.
I’m not entirely alone in this world. I have people to love. People who love me.
Cannon. Ryan. Hannah. Julia. Even Jefferson.
Hannah is blood. The only piece of my sister I have left.
But it’s not the same. I have a father out there somewhere. A man who contributed half of my DNA. This knowledge makes me feel like I don’t know myself. There’s half of me that’s a mystery, completely unknown.
I read through the papers, familiarizing myself with the information again. I’ve repeated his name in my head a million times since I discovered the truth.
Luis Christian Hernandez.
I say his name out loud, the syllables foreign to my tongue.
A curse, or a prayer?
It’s impossible to know without learning more about him. His name has Spanish origins, so I’m assuming he’s of Hispanic descent. It could explain my naturally tan skin and a few of my more prominent features. Physical traits that didn’t come from my blonde, fair-skinned mother, and didn’t match the man I thought was my father.
I don’t have much else to go on, only that he’s from Blackwood.
Since mine and Ryan’s moms grew up together, I went to Julia with what I found, but she was just as surprised as me to learn about my paternity. She didn’t even recognize his name. She offered to ask around, talk to people she and my mother knew back in high school to see if anyone could remember him.
At the time, I wasn’t sure it would be the right move.
Now that I’ve been in Blackwood for more than a few weeks, I’m confident I made the right choice by asking her to hold back.
Let’s just say that word of mouth around here isn’t limited to business recommendations. People here like to talk. I prefer to keep my shit private. I’ve got nothing against the people in town, but they don’t know me, don’t need to know my personal business. Unless they’re talking about my tattoo business, I don’t want my name in their mouths.
Without giving anything away, I’ve kept an ear to the ground, listening for any type of information on the whereabouts of my father. My efforts have been wasted so far. I haven’t heard a single mention of his name.
Scrubbing my hand down my face, I drop the papers onto the desk and grab my phone. Scrolling through my contacts, I stop at the name of the man who should be able to get me the answers I seek. My thumb hesitates over the call icon.
I’ve been back and forth over this decision for months.
As much as I want answers, deep down I fear the truth.
Learning the truth about my sister—how she was a child conceived from rape—almost broke me. What if my truth is like hers? Do I really want to know?
Making my decision, I tap the icon and switch it to speakerphone.
I’ve never let fear of the unknown stop me from making moves before.
I’m not about to start now.
He picks up after two short rings.
“Hey, man. Heard about your sister. I’m sorry.”
I’m not surprised he knows about Elena’s fate. Over the years, he and I developed a friendship of sorts. The man probably knows more about me than I do. He’s the one who helped me find Elena several times and bring her home. Unfortunately, nothing we did ever helped. Our efforts were wasted.
“Thanks, Jake.” I take a deep breath and shake off any lingering doubts. “Look, I called because I need you to find someone for me.”
“Name?” He’s blunt and to the point, not one for bullshit.
“Luis Christian Hernandez.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s my father.”
His silence speaks volumes. I’ve thrown him for a loop, and I know it.
“I thought that loser, Robert, was your father.”
“Yeah, well...so did I. We were both wrong.”
THREE
Presley
Rain pelts my windshield as I drive to Derrick’s house.
Lightning flashes followed by a loud crack of thunder.
I smile.
This storm came out of nowhere it seems, but I’m not complaining. I love thunderstorms. They’ve always been calming for me.
I park in Derrick’s driveway behind his cute little ice blue Mini convertible and slip on my favorite “Nerdy girls have more books than shoes” hoodie. I dart through the rain to his front door, hitting the button on the key fob to lock my car behind me.
Halfway there, the door opening catches my attention and I bark out a laugh, almost stopping in my tracks.
Derrick waits for me at the open door, clad in white, one-piece bunny pajamas and the fluffiest pair of bunny slippers I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s got a wide smile on his face and a glass of wine in his hand.
I hurry inside, dropping my purse on the long bench in the entryway and taking off my wet hoodie. Seconds later, I’ve got a glass of my favorite red in my hand and I’m following Derrick into his living room.
“Pretty, pretty Presley. I’ve got all our favorite carbs. Pizza, pasta, and pastries.”
He waves his arm outward, motioning toward the table as if it’s the holy grail. For us, it is. My eyes drift across the table and my stomach growls in response.
“Bless your heart, you beautiful man. You’re the best.”
“And don’t you forget it!” He boops my nose. “Oh! I have something for you,” he says, hustling down his short hallway before I can ask what it is. He puts a little wiggle in his walk, which draws my attention to the huge fluffy tail on the back of his onesie.
I double over laughing.
It’s so unbelievably Derrick.
I open my mouth to ask how in the hell sitting on that thing is comfortable, but I quickly change my mind and zip my lips. I don’t wanna know.
He sashays towards me, something white and fluffy folded in his hands.
“Here! Go into the bathroom and slip into something a little more comfortable.” The statement comes with a dramatic waggle of his brows which makes me giggle. Derrick is the only one with the ability to get me to lighten up this much, to feel so carefree.
“Hurry! The carbs are calling!”
He trades me for the glass of wine and with a slap to my ass, I’m sent on my way. I walk to the bathroom with a smile on my face and unidentifiable fluff in my hands.
A few short minutes later, I’m suited up in a onesie of my own.
A panda.
When I get back to the living room, Derrick gives me back my glass of wine and nods toward something behind me. I turn around to find a matching pair of fluffy panda slippers waiting for me.
With a little squeal, I slip my feet into them and wiggle my toes.
“I think I’ll keep you,” I tell Derrick, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re my favorite.”
We load up our plates of carbs
and settle comfortably onto the couch.
“I’ve been waiting impatiently. Tell me all the things. How was it? Are you terribly traumatized?”
Swallowing the mouthful of my favorite Hawaiian pizza, I shrug.
“Actually...I kinda loved it.”
His dramatic gasp reaches my ears and I smile.
“No one is more surprised than me, D. Despite being practically naked, being in front of the camera made me feel confident...and powerful. I mean, it was a bit awkward at first, but Tara was seriously laid back. Once I relaxed a bit, I couldn’t help having fun with it. It wasn’t at all like I thought it would be.”
“Oh. My. Goddess. That’s incredible, Presley. I’m so damn proud of you, girl.”
“I’m pretty proud of me, too.”
Everything I tell him is the truth. I didn’t hate it. In fact, I’d do it again. Laying myself bare, posing for the camera...it somehow felt natural to me. I felt sexy, and beautiful. I’d love to have more of that feeling.
“Cami slipped into my set toward the end. She said if she didn’t know any better, she’d think I’d been modeling my entire life. Like I was made for it.”
Finishing off my wine, I refill the glass and grab another slice of pizza.
“You could totally model, Presley.”
“Ehh. I dunno. I enjoyed it, but I’m not sure I’m brave enough to put myself out there like that.”
What I’m not saying is that I don’t think I have what it takes. Sure, I ended up having a blast today, but that doesn’t mean everyone wants to see pictures of me.
“I have an idea.”
The gleam in his eye scares me.
That look means trouble.
Derrick’s ideas range from brilliant to downright frightening.
I raise a brow, waiting to cast judgment on whatever he says next.
He waves me off, ignoring the look. “You should start an Instagram account. You could totally keep it anonymous until you’re more comfortable. I can see you trending. Think about it. Books and beauty. Flaunt your nerdy little self. See how much you shine.”
It’s not an awful idea, but I’m not sold.
I don’t tell Derrick that, but I’m sure he already knows.
Instead, I use my sarcasm like I always do.
“I can see it now. Post the photos from my boudoir session on Instagram and watch them go viral. I’ll get a million followers and people will finally see me.”
“Pshhh. Hush that nonsense. You don’t need to bare yourself to strangers to be seen, Presley. People who matter will see you for the beautiful person you are. Inside and out.”
Rather than respond, I scoot closer to him and lean my head on his shoulder. Life wouldn’t be the same without Derrick. I’ll be forever grateful for his friendship. He’s such a bright soul. I hope no one ever dulls his sparkle.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t post them, because you totally should, but you shouldn’t rely on strangers to determine your self-worth.” He wraps his arm around me and squeezes. “I can tell you’re done with this conversation for now, so let’s talk about St. Patrick’s Day.”
I can’t help but laugh. He reads me so well, but I’m sure it comes easily after being my best friend for so long. He’s the only person in the world who knows every single one of my secrets.
It’s a two-way street. I know everything there is to know about Derrick Knight.
There is absolutely nothing in this world he loves more than a good party.
“Hit me with it. I know you have plans.”
“Would I be me if I didn’t? There’s an event at 80 Proof. We’ll be there. I have your outfit already picked out.”
“Nope!” I sit up quickly. “I love you, Derrick, but there’s no way in hell you’re dressing me for St. Paddy’s day. I’ll go to the party with you, but I’ll choose my own clothes.”
I’ve been down that road before. I’d rather wear lingerie in public than wear whatever getup he has planned for me.
He pushes his bottom lip into a pout.
“Uh-uh. No way. I’m not falling for that shit again. Last time I let someone’s pout persuade me, I ended up in a bra and panties in front of a camera.”
“And you loved it!”
“Irrelevant!” I give him a pointed look. “I’m not changing my mind. Deal with it.”
He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
I laugh quietly, snuggling up next to him. “Come on, D. You can’t be mad at me for long and you know it.”
“I’ll get over it. I just need to be a little dramatic first.”
“Fair enough.”
FOUR
Adam
The bell on the front door rings through the shop and I growl under my breath.
I hate that fucking sound.
"Be right there!" I shout, shutting the supply cabinet.
My client canceled last minute, so I thought I'd have time to get some other shit done. I should have known better.
Heading toward the front, I peak in on Ryker as I pass. He's working on a full back piece for a long-time client. It's gonna be a beautiful, badass piece of art when he's finished.
Both Ryker and Deacon are what's left of Jeremy's crew. Everyone else jumped ship when he sold me the shop, but the two of them wanted to stay. They're damn good at what they do, I'd have been a fool to deny them.
"Looks fuckin' great, man."
He responds with a nod.
The bell up front rings again and I growl.
"Remind me to put an ad out for a goddamn receptionist."
His serious expression morphs to a grin. "Will do, boss."
Glad he's amused. Everyone in this place is aware of my hatred of that damn bell. Unfortunately, until I find someone who's a good fit to work the front, it has to stay.
I tap my hand against the doorframe and carry on. The bell rings again seconds later and I have to remind myself that I can't strangle a potential client.
Rounding the corner, I start with my usual greeting, "Welcome to Three Kings. What can I do for—"
My frustration is immediately doused, and the annoying bell forgotten, at the sight of Cannon standing in front of me.
"Holy shit. If it isn't the lost king himself."
I move toward my friend, grab him by the shoulder and pull him in for a rough hug.
"What the fuck are you doing here, brother?" I clap him on his back and break my hold. "Not that I'm not happy as hell to see you, but you didn't say a word about making the move. Or is this just a visit?"
He stands back, slipping his hands into his front pockets.
He looks good. Worn down and weary, but good.
I wasn’t sure what to expect after everything he’s been through. I know he hasn’t been taking things well. It’s been hit after another, doing a ton of damage mentally and emotionally. He may look good, but if I know him at all, he feels bruised and battered on the inside.
"I'm here to stay."
I'm happy at his admission, but I can tell it comes at a cost. I notice he didn't answer my original question, but I let it slide for now.
"Music to my ears. We'll talk about the rest later, yeah?"
“Can deal with that. Mind if I crash with you? Made no plans, kinda got in the car and started driving.”
“Don’t even need to ask, brother. You know damn well my place is yours for as long as you need. Shop is yours, too. There’s always room for you here.”
“Appreciate it.”
“My client cancelled, and I’ve got some time before my next appointment. Let’s head back to the office and catch up for a bit.”
He nods, following silently behind me.
“I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys later and get you set up in your own space. Start taking clients whenever you’re ready.”
“Sounds good. Maybe I’ll take care of shit up front for you before you wring someone’s neck over that damn bell.�
��
He knows me too damn well.
Ushering him into my office, I chuckle and clap him on his back again.
“Welcome home, motherfucker.”
“Good to be here, honestly. Felt some of the weight disappear from my shoulders as soon as I crossed the state line.”
“Ryan and I are both willing to bear that burden with you, but you’ve refused to let us in.”
I take a seat behind my desk while Cannon sprawls out across the small couch in the corner. He rubs his hand across his jaw and sighs.
“I know, man. Needed time to process. Time to grieve. Still do.”
“I feel for you. I know what it’s like to suffer a loss. Hell, I’m still dealing with the aftermath of my mom’s fucked up choices.” It’s obvious he doesn’t really want to talk about what went down the last few months, so I spare him. “Hell, you’ve been dealing with so much, I haven’t even told you the latest.”
I tell him everything I discovered in the box of paperwork and documents from my mom’s storage unit.
I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but I’m still so goddamn angry at her. The secrets, the lies, taking the cowards way out without owning up to her shit. I’ll always love her, but I’m furious. I think it’s well within my rights, even if it makes me a shitty son. I can’t help how I feel.
“Jesus. That’s a whole lotta fucked up.”
I scoff. “Tell me about it.”
He’s not surprised to hear I hired Jake to find out what he can about the man who fathered me. I’m the type to leave no stone unturned when I’m looking for something, or in this case, someone.
“I can’t even describe how it feels now that I know the truth. There’s this whole other side to me that I don’t know. It’s like this empty space I don’t know how to fill.” I run my fingers through my hair and make a mental note to ask Camille to trim it for me. “Maybe if I can find my real family, I won’t feel so damn incomplete.”
“Get outta here with that bullshit, Adam.” Cannon sits straight up, eyeing me with a glare that could burn. “We’re your real family. Me. Ryan. Hannah. Hell, Ryan’s mom, her husband, and now the...babies.”
