Chapter 3
three
ZACK
“Y ou have to be fucking kidding me,” I exclaimed on a panicked breath as I scrolled through the forwarded email that our media producer, Sophie, had sent all of us mere moments ago. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Theo’s head popped out of the bathroom of our shared suite, steam wafting out slowly. “What? Is the Queen coming to the music festival or something?” The top of his hair was wet from his recent shower, buzzed at the sides to show off his skull tattoos, and his jaw was clean shaved. We could have been twins in resemblance—somehow getting our mother’s favor in genetics—if it weren’t for our facial hair, haircuts, and the slighter, more round curve to my own jawline.
My jaw clicked as I stared at him.
In the last eight years, there were many moments where I wanted to pummel him into the ground. Though, in the last two—once we had finally reached a resolve and resolution—my anger towards him had improved greatly.
Yet, it took seeing her photo on my phone, paired with the knowledge of her arrival, to bring that anger back. And I wanted nothing more than to smash his tattooed head into the glass of our shower doors.
Even if it would land me a few years of jail time.
He took a deep breath as he caught the rage coating my face. It took every ounce of strength to not click my teeth at him next. Just to be an asshole. “Okay. Not the Queen. What’s going on, man? You haven’t looked this pissed off in years. Let alone directed at me. Did something happen?”
I couldn’t even find the words as I all but chucked my phone in his direction.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen her in years. I wasn’t shocked to see her beautiful face, nor her split colored hair or golden complexion. I had stalked my wife more than any fan could have ever stalked anyone in our band—watching her age, change hair colors, get more tattoos, and experience life. I often fell asleep in my bed, a hotel bed, or a tour bus staring at her. Her photos.
At her happiness.
At her happiness without me.
No, I wasn’t shocked to see her in the slightest. What I was shocked to see, however, was that she would be working for us—involuntarily—when I had been begging and pleading to see her for just over two years. Text messages, letters, and countless tickets had gone unanswered.
Even when the divorce papers were still being delivered.
Only for her to show up anyway. For her job.
An ache pounded at my heart at the realization.
She was only coming because she had to for her livelihood.
Not for me. Not for us.
Theo’s whistle brought me back down to reality, and I rubbed my anxious palms together as he spoke. My anger was slowly beginning to fade into absolute terror. “Damn. That’s our girl. She’s working for us? I didn’t know she had responded to anything you sent,” Theo commented.
I nearly growled. “She hasn’t . And she wasn’t supposed to be working for us, either. The email says our previous photographer was fired due to a deadline issue or some shit. She’s being sent to us against her will.”
“Oof.”
“Fucking oof ? That’s what you have to say right now, you jackass?”
“Uhhhm,” he started, scratching at the nape of his neck. “But like, she’s still coming, right? There’s a positive side to this. We can actually talk to her. We can explain ourselves. This is a good thing, man!”
I blinked before my head dropped to my tattooed hands. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to laugh, scream, or cry. The emotional intelligence that came with heartache, longing, and loneliness often turned you into a brittle shell of a person, and yet, I somehow only felt the highest of highs or the lowest of lows—all at the same exact time. “She’s never going to hear us out.”
“Yes, she will.”
“No, she won’t.”
Theo kicked at my black Converse, and I jumped back in shock. I didn’t even heard the fucker walk toward me. Yet, there he stood, towering over my pathetic, weakened frame—shirtless, wearing just a pair of black boxers, and showing off all of his tattooed ink. Too close for comfort without a buffer. “You left the love of your life because I was a jealous dumbass who made you choose between love and blood, and yet you’ve stayed faithful to her for years, even when you could’ve just moved on. You never forgot about her. For fuck’s sake—half of our songs and our hidden album are about her . She just…needs to give us one more shot. And we can go from there. She’ll hear us out.”
I gnawed on my bottom lip.
Easier said than done. Especially from Mr. Sunshine over there.
“Yeah…right. Because not only do we have to explain to her why I broke her heart and you deserted her as her friend and brother-in-law, but we also have to explain the following sentence: ‘Hi, my star. I’ve missed you. Theo and I have talked some over the last eight years, ya know, and we want to share you. Together. Forever. Yay us. What do ya say?’” I took a deep breath before muttering, “Fan-fucking-tastic.”
“Well…I probably wouldn’t phrase it like that . That wouldn’t be very tumblr-happy, polyamory of us in those terms.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s incest.”
“I want to beat you into the ground until you’re nothing but a pile of mush.”
Theo ignored the jab with a shrug and continued. “Listen. You can change your mind, you know? I can move on. I’ve seen you torture yourself for years. That girl is your soulmate, and I’m the intruder here. If you want to go back on what we talked about…I can get over myself, somehow. I may be in love with your wife, right alongside you, but I think I’ve put you both through enough hell. Don’t you?”
My answer was immediate. “Yes. Yes, you have.”
His blue eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head in annoyance. “Gee, thanks. Here I was trying to make you feel better.”
My resounding sigh could have echoed throughout the suite as my eyes bounced around manically. Except, when they landed on my own flesh, it was the tattoos on my left hand and forearm that only solidified what I knew. I traced them absentmindedly as I thought about my next words to Theo.
An abstract sun on my forearm.
A star on my left hand’s ring finger.
And a blazing lightning bolt connecting them both.
My sunshine filled brother and my star of a soulmate—tethered together from the destruction of lightning labeled as myself.
I could never let either of them go.
And Theo was full of shit for even suggesting he could let her go.
She was ours. She was our evolution.
Estrella had consumed us both for so long, even when we were immature and wanted to play tug-a-war with her soul, that she literally became the name of our entire career.
From Stars to Evolution.
I knew better than to think he would ever let her go. Especially after so many years and shared conversations. If she even gave me a chance, yet ignored him—he would be in pain for the rest of his life.
While I had considered my star as my soulmate…it took nearly a decade to discover that maybe a soul could belong to two people and still be happy—if she could allow herself that pleasure and contentment, too.
As I met the eyes of my younger brother, I questioned how life had to be so ironic and yet torturous. His eyebrows were pinched in worry as he stared back at me, likely already accepting the rejection that would never come, and my head ached as the words flew out of my mouth with no hesitation. “Hurting her was the biggest mistake of my life. I’m not going to hurt her again. And for what I’ve put her through—what we’ve both gone through—she deserves love from us both, if she’ll even accept it. So, if I have to share her with anyone—it’ll be you, brother. We all deserve a chance to be happy now.”
His shoulders sagged in relief.
Yeah, I still wanted to punch him. Regardless of how true my words were.
I continued as I stood up. “You’re the one who has to explain everything to Sophie and the guys, though. Starting from the beginning. I’m not going to be the one to tell them that our entire persona is pretty much built over the love of my life that you made me toss away. And that we both have to beg for.”
“Okay, yeah, that’s fair. Yes, sir.” His eyes followed me as I grabbed my wallet from the table and headed for one of the private bedrooms that housed our band. Our band, that somehow, knew absolutely nothing about any of this damn mess. It was a damned miracle. “Where are you going?”
I slammed the door behind me as I spoke. “I’ve been celibate for eight damn years, and my wife will be here in twenty-four hours. I’m jerking off until my balls turn into raisins so I don’t bust in my jeans just at the sight of her.”
His resounding laugh was loud as fuck. “Hey, I’ve been celibate for two years, too. You think I should do the same?”
I ignored him as I laid down in bed.
I had no intention of touching myself, in all actuality. I didn’t give a fuck if that even did happen.
Instead, I was going to scroll through social media and photo galleries to stare at my star in peace.
And also pray she would give me—give us—one last shot. One chance to prove to her that we were both profoundly sorry, but that we would also do anything to keep her.
Even if I had to grovel like hell.