Page 87 of Scarred Crown

“Get out of your feelings, man, and get into your head.” He punches me in the shoulder. “I’ve known Julia all my life. A tattoo? Drunk or not, she doesn’t do that unless she wants to.” He hesitates for a second. “Not even for you. Not even back then.”

“It’s been fourteen years, and I still don’t want to hear her say it.” I run a hand through my hair.

His expression softens. He might give me a hard time and make fun of me, but he also knows exactly what I mean. “If you don’t ask, you will always wonder.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. Though I’ve tried my best to put the past behind us the last few weeks as we’ve grown closer, it’s still underneath every interaction.

“I gotta go talk to Mom,” Brice says stepping around me. “Think about it this way—if the shoe was on the other foot, would you want to be punished for your teenage mistakes forever? None of us got out of those years without a few scars.” He cocks an eyebrow and runs his middle finger over a faint scar on his forehead. “’Cause you were a real dick.”

“You’re a beacon of wisdom.” I roll my eyes and shove my hands back inside my pockets.

He puts a hand to his ear, walking backward. “Bacon? Did you say something about bacon? Excellent idea. I’ll go talk to Joyce in the kitchen.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m left alone in the hallway, a short distance from my wing of the palace. I need to gather my thoughts in my room, and then I’ll track down Jules.

My gut clenches. So many things could go wrong with our conversation.

But for now—right now—she’s my wife, and that’s something I never thought I’d be able to say. For just a few more minutes, I’ll let that be true in case it’s a title she’d prefer not to keep.

My stomach dips. There’s no greater torture than seeing everything you want within your grasp and having it slide through your fingers, a mirage.

Nick

Fourteen years ago

Even in the dead of winter, Bellerive rarely gets snow. Frost, maybe. A slick coating on the roads if it rains and the temperature drops fast. Having been to Canada around the Christmas season, I appreciate how snow enhances the beauty of garish decorations.

Since we can’t do much about the weather, Bellerive’s tradition is to coat the courthouse square with manmade snow, ice sculptures, winter activities, and an abundance of decorations. The air has a crisp texture to it while we wait for the opening ceremony to conclude, and the scent of deep-fried pastries wafts toward me. The dessert constructed in the shape of a Bellerive rose is coated in local honey when it comes out of the frier. A sticky highlight every year.

In about thirty minutes, once the sun has set, we’ll flip the comically big switch in front of us, and all of Tucker’s Town will light up for the Christmas season.

Other cities and towns around the island turn on their lights earlier, but the Christmas Festival of Tucker’s Town always takes place a handful of days before Christmas, and it’s a command performance for us kids. Other years I haven’t minded. As soon as we were done the royal part, Julia and I would toboggan down the constructed hills, skate on the ice rink, and throw snowballs at each other. We scrawled our names in the snow using donated paint, coating the lawn with whatever catchphrase was currently our favorite. And we laughed—we laughed so much.

This year, I don’t even know if she’s coming.

Actually, that’s a lie. She texted me, but since Alex is home, I’m assuming she’s coming to see him and using me as a cover. No thanks.

Vicky is in the crowd somewhere, and she’s promised to put her warm lips and wet tongue all over my dick when this is over. It’s not hills, rinks, and snowballs, but getting a blowjob isn’t nothing either. Watching her blond head bob is one of the few things that seems to give me even a moment of happiness anymore, so I’m not turning that down.

The mayor of Tucker’s Town says her usual spiel about the Christmas season, being thankful for where we live, so on and so forth. Then she turns to us, and my grandmother, the queen of Bellerive, uses both hands to draw down the lever, illuminating the city in a burst of color.

A surprised and pleased murmur travels through the crowd.

I have to admit, it’s impressive.

After we’ve schmoozed with important politicians and wealthy Bellerivians, I search for a familiar blond head. My job is done, and now I get my reward.

“Looking for me?” Julia asks from behind me.

I whip around, surprised she snuck up on me. Her long chestnut hair falls around her shoulders in gentle waves, and I’m struck for the millionth time by how pretty she is. An ache blooms across my chest. “Uh, Vicky, actually. We’re supposed to hang out.”

“Oh.” The smile on her face slips. “I texted you. You didn’t get it?”

“Haven’t checked my phone in hours.” I shrug. I’d feel bad lying if she wasn’t living one too.

“Oh. Well. Maybe we can take a few runs down the hill before you have to disappear? It looks like they put moguls on it this year. My ass will be so sore tomorrow.” She grins at me and pats her backside.

Why does she have to mention her ass? I shift on my feet, trying to keep my dick in check. Letting myself think about her like that doesn’t help any of us.