“Are you going to come back to the ring or am I going to have to knock you the fuck out?”
The voice drifted through the fog of my mind and slowly pulled me back to the present. My eyes began blinking furiously as I found myself back in the wrestling ring with Tank. I smiled at him and got to my feet, already feeling the pain on the right side of my face. I lifted my hand to the tender spot on my cheekbone. It appears that thinking about Sin got me knocked on my ass—literally.
I sigh and head back to my corner. I pick up my water bottle, unscrew the cap, and take a large drink. The feel of the cold water sliding down my throat made reality even more evident.
“I think I’m going to call it a day, Tank.”
Traven ‘Tank’ Matthews has been my friend for many years. He was also the one that got me into the underground fighting circuit. I can’t remember how I met him, but I was grateful for our friendship. If it wasn’t for Tank, I’d either be dead or pumped so full of drugs that I wouldn’t be able to function. He was my brother, for all intents and purposes. It didn’t matter that we weren't blood related—sometimes water was thicker than blood. Besides Tank, there was his twin Draven Matthews, Jace Mathers, Jon Jacobs, and Dane Karter that made up our little group. We weren’t the most orderly bunch, but those son of a bitches were the only people that I could consider family. They were with me through thick and thin, and sometimes thicker. I could always count on them if I was ever in a pinch.
I see him smile and slowly shake his head back and forth. “Pierce, man, what has you in fits?” I open my mouth to tell him that it was nothing, but he cuts me off. “Don’t sit there and tell me it's nothing. You know I fucking hate that shit.”
I lie back on the mat, thanking God that it was after closing hours. There was no way that I would say this shit otherwise. I didn’t want Jon, Draven, Dane, or Jace to know that I was a pussy for sharing my feelings with Tank. Hell, I’d be the laughingstock of the whole gym by the end of the week. They would make sure of that. It didn’t matter if they were our friends or not, they took a good laugh over friendship any day. Well, we do, too, but that really isn’t the same thing, is it? Since I prided myself on being the hardest motherfucker around, that just wouldn’t do.
I lie there looking at the metal bars that are intricately woven together throughout the ceiling. I study the beams and find the weakest point in each of them. I don’t know how to explain it, but that’s exactly where my mind always went. I always looked for the weakest parts of everything around me, including people. If I was speaking frank, the people were always the ones that I looked at first. It was hard to explain, but finding the weak points in them always made me feel better about myself. I know; stupid, right?
It’s a compulsive disorder that I have. If I find the weakest points in them and then see if I have those or not, I can fix them. I refuse to be the boy that lived all those years ago with a cracked out mom and her pimp. I was weak and I saw that when I was sixteen years old. It was like a light flipped on in my mind, and for the first time in all the years, I realized I’d been living in a hellhole of a situation, and I knew weakness was something that could, and would, kill you if you let it.
Tank knew what I was doing. It was like he was tuned into my every movement. I hear him sigh from my left. I turn to see that he is now lying next to me on the mat and looking up at the ceiling, too. I smile, knowing what he’s about to ask me.
“So, where are the weak spots?”
I chuckle and point with my finger to three different places without saying a word to him. It wasn’t something that I was proud of. And actually, my obsessive compulsive disorder could be considered a weakness of my own, but it actually made me stronger, if that made sense. I’ve been asked many times why I look for the weak in everything around me and I always have the same answer: if I can point out the weakness in other people, then I can make sure that I don’t have the same type of weakness.
Of course, I was no fool. Every person has a weakness at some point in their lives. My weakness just so happened to be tatted and pierced with black flowing hair. It was my cross to bear and I knew that. I’ve tried multiple times over the past month to purge the weakness from my body, but every time I see her, my weakness becomes more pronounced in my mind. I couldn’t seem to be able to help myself, but it was something that I could learn and grow from. That’s why I haven’t been back to the tattoo shop this week. I need to purge her from my system and get back to the things that actually matter in my life—my company, my friends, and my health.
“You know, you’re are the only person that realizes I have this problem,” I say out of the blue.
I hear Tank chuckle from beside me and I glance in his direction again. He senses I’m looking at him and he glances in my direction as well. I can see the intrigue in his eyes and know that he is about to start a conversation that I wish I could put off for a while longer.
“What has you in such a fit?” he asks with an arched eyebrow.
And there it is.
I sigh and shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know.” Even though I do.
“Oh bullshit, Pierce. I know you better than you know yourself; out with it.”
I chuckle. “Tank, that’s not considered a good thing. You know that, right?”
“I don’t care if it is or isn’t; out with it,” he presses, beginning his cooldown routine.
I release a pent up breath, beginning my own cooldown stretches. Holding my foot to my chest, I count down in my mind, three… two… one… Then switch to the other leg.
“It’s a girl.”
Tank offered nothing for quite some time. I was just about to ask him what he thought when I hear booming laughter escape him and echo off the gym’s metal walls. I look over at him to see that the bastard has tears in his eyes, and he's clutching his stomach like he’s going to get up and run away. My mouth falls open in shock as I just stare at him gasping and heaving for air. What the fuck? He thinks a girl having me in fits is a good thing? To hell, it’s the worst thing ever! I didn’t want a woman to have me so torn up that I didn’t know which way was up and which was down.
“Why the fuck are you laughing? It’s not funny, asshole!” I growl, slapping the mat.
Tank sobers just a bit, but chuckles are still escaping the throat I’m about to punch in about two seconds. “Pierce,” he breaks into a new round of giggles, “that is the funniest thing I’ve heard in some time. You’re letting some little woman get to you? To hell man, what’s up with that?”
I groan. It’s not about some woman getting to me; it's about the woman getting to me. Sin has constantly been on my mind since I lived in that house next to her. She was like a sickness that I just couldn’t get over.
“It’s not a girl, Tank; it’s the girl,” I say looking at him with wide eyes.
The laughing immediately stops and a frightened look comes over his face. “The girl? Please, don’t tell me…” He immediately stops when I start nodding my head, slowly. He gulps, and from the look on his face, I think he's going to bolt at any minute. “Sinclair?”
I nod and get up to my feet. Looking down at him, I see that sweat is beginning to build up on his brows. “Yes, Sin. Now, motherfucker, you know why I’m in fits.”
The only thing his shaky voice would allow him to say was, “Fuck!”
I couldn’t agree with him more.
Now he knows the reason why I’m so messed up. He would probably freak out if he found out that she kissed me last week. So I was definitely not going to let him in on that little piece of information. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head now that he knew I had seen Sin again. The last time, I barely made it out of my house before I did something so damning that I would never be able to look at myself in the mirror again.
When I said that I remembered Sin, I wasn’t lying. She was the reason why I moved away from the one-bedroom house all those years ago. Every night when I came home, I always spotted her watching me from the safety of
her curtains, and it always drove me insane with need. After leaving my mother and her pimp behind, you can see why I didn’t want her to get mixed up with a person like me. But the longer I stayed there, the more I wanted her.
Her bed was located near her window, and there were many nights that I’d sit and watch her sleep. I know it was a stalkerish thing to do, but I just couldn’t help myself. She looked like an angel lying there—her hair surrounding her cherub face. Even then I thought she was gorgeous. She would say different I’m sure, but to me she was perfect. I didn’t care about the extra weight like all the other men around me did; I loved it. I wanted a woman that I could hold onto at night. I wanted a woman who, no matter how much I loved her body, could withstand everything I had to offer her.
Sin was that woman.
Tank found out everything I thought about her when I’d let it slip to him one day. He was the one that made me move, but not before the damage had already been done and I had slept with her. Tank had to make the final decision; he knew what would happen if I stayed there. It didn’t matter who I talked to or how they tried to get her out of my mind, she was always there. It was sick, but I often thought of kidnapping her and taking her away just for my pleasure. I was a sick son of a bitch with an addiction to Sin.
She was like a drug to me, and I was still addicted to her after all these years. You would think that living with my mother and her pimp for so long, I would loathe addictions. My addiction just came in the form of a woman who, no matter the time or distance that I put between us, never left my mind. Sin was and will forever be the only person that I want.
I may quench my hunger with the women that surround me on a daily basis. But at the end of the day, I was still like a man dying in the Sahara. No matter what I did, who I did, or even when I did it, I knew Sinclair was the only woman that would be able to quench the hunger I had inside me. The more I was around her, the harder it became for me to hold back my dark urges.
At this point, I had no idea what I was going to do. But I knew the more time I spent near her, the more the darkness would cloud my better judgment. It was an all-consuming darkness that demanded nothing but Sin. It should scare me to want someone this much. Instead, the only time I think clearly was when I was around her.
Damn, I was in so much trouble.
Chapter Seven
Sinclair
“Have you heard anything from him?” I peer across the table at my mother and resist the urge to make gagging faces as she wiggles her eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
“Marge, dammit, I don’t want to hear about that,” my father groans, covering his eyes with his large tattooed hand.
My mother had no idea what was going through my mind. Ever since Alex missed his appointment with James to finish up his piece, I’ve been in fits. And not the good kind either. I’m talking eat-a-tub-of-ice cream-and-ugly-cry-yourself-into-oblivion kind of fits. I can’t get him out of my mind. I swear, I’m getting to be as sick as I was when I was younger. I had often thought of sneaking into his room and just stripping naked to wait for him, but to be honest, I would rather stay hidden in the shadows than to get rejected in the light by him. When he lived next door to me, I was sure he would reject me; when he didn’t that one night in the shed, I was amazed. However, that feeling of amazement didn’t last long; he soon moved away before anything else could be said and done about it.
My life was not made of the stuff of fairytales—princess gets her prince and they live happily ever after. Yeah, that shit’s not for me. I fell for that when I was sixteen and I’m not about to do it again. That shit almost broke me. Mine was more like the princess gets knocked up, so if she lost her slipper she wouldn’t know it anyway. In the meantime, the prince gallivants all over the place spreading his seed some more. When Alex moved away, I knew I needed to be stronger and not have to rely on anyone. I learned my shit the first time around and I wasn’t going to do it again.
I needed an escape from reality, and for a while, Alex had been my escape. My dad was always off doing his thing with his friends when I was younger and I never got to see much of him until I hit about fourteen. I was looking for anyone that could be a positive influence in my life. My mother hadn’t exactly been the best maternal figure, since she was constantly seeking solace from drink. I basically had to fend for myself; it was a hell of a way to grow up, but it made me stronger. My brothers weren’t there for me either; they were out doing their own thing and trying to make sense of life in their own way. My younger brother, Scott, was too small at the time to understand any of it.
When Alex moved away, a fire ignited in me. He was my normal—my one true obsession. I couldn’t count on my friends at school. They were doing their thing living life and didn’t have much time for me. That’s not the case now, but it was then.
All I ever wanted was to be normal, and Alex was my version of normal—one I would give anything to have for my own. The more I sat in my room and watched him through my window the clearer it came to me; I would never have that. I would never be that girl who got what she wanted—a happy life with the man I loved. It seems I always got just a taste, and then it got jerked away from me. It was what it was—bullshit!
Did I love Alex? Figuratively speaking, yes. I loved that man more than I loved myself on most days. But did he know it? No. And he never would.
A snapping noise brought me out of my thoughts. I found that I was blankly staring at my mom and dad as they argued about my sex life—loud enough so the whole diner could hear, I might add. I was just glad that Triple-A wasn’t here to witness it. Thank goodness for sleepovers. People without children may not know this, but they are a freaking lifesaver.
“I wasn’t asking her about her sex life, sweetie. I only wanted to know about the guy,” my mom coos at my dad; the love in her eyes breaking my heart that much more.
“I don’t want to hear about any of it,” my dad grumbles. “She’s still my little girl.”
I smile and lean back in my seat. “He hasn’t been into the shop since that night. He’s missed his appointment to get his tattoos finished, and I have no idea when he is going to come back.”
A curious look came over my mom's face. She was just about to say something when the waitress, my friend from high school, came over to take our order.
“What’ll it be?”
I smile, politely. “I’ll have the double hamburger with everything and an order of fries, Sharon.”
Her eyes light up as she scribbles on her pad before looking up to my mother and father. “And you two… Let me guess… Hmmm… You will have the cheeseburger with no mayo and extra fries,” she says glancing toward my father. “And you will have the chicken salad with extra crispy chicken, and I can't forget the five packs of crackers.”
My dad chuckles. “Well, Sharon, it seems that you know our orders by heart.”
My mother giggles and waves at herself suggestively. “Am I that predictable?”
All four of us burst into a fit of laughter. Sharon shakes her head from side to side while gathering the menus from the table. After telling us that it’ll be a few minutes, she turns around and walks back toward the kitchen, leaving us alone once more. I sigh and glance back up to meet my parents’ expectant gazes.
“Do you remember the guy that lived right next door to us when I was sixteen?”
My father's eyes instantly narrow as my mother's eyes bug out of her head. They both said, “Yeah?” As if they were asking me a question.
After my father had begun hanging around more when I was fourteen, everything seemed to change. He and I became really close, and my mother realized that the bottle just wasn’t for her anymore. We actually banded together with my three brothers and became a family. I truly believe the only reason she drank herself to oblivion every night was because my father wasn’t there. But when he came back, everything changed.
“Well, that’s the guy I am talking about,” I whisper, training my eyes on my fork.
I
hear a gasp, growl, and someone start coughing. I glance up to see that my father was taking a shaky drink out of his glass, and his face turned as red as a firecracker.
“Baby girl, why didn’t you tell me?” he releases in a pained voice.
“I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling that was the guy. You’ve only ever been in a big mess over one before and that boy was it. Of course, it's nice to put a name with a face now,” my mother says, forcing out a short chuckle.
I shrug my shoulders and glance back up to them. “That’s not all…” I trail off.
This wasn’t the way that I wanted to break all of this to them, but I felt that I couldn’t keep it in anymore. They had a right to know, and I knew that I was a bitch keeping this from them for all these years. They had repeatedly asked me about the baby’s father when I was pregnant and when I had Triple-A. In a crummy diner on a Friday night when winter was gaining on us was not the way I thought about telling them.
I hear my father shift, and then lean against the table. “What’s not all, baby girl?”
I sigh, screw my eyes shut, and brace myself. “He’s kind of… Fucking hell… He’s Triple-A’s father.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” My dad’s voice blares throughout the restaurant.
I shake my head and pick up my fork, scratching it against the table top. I’m about to lose my shit and I don’t think I’ll be able to hold it back this time. There’s something about knowing the truth for myself and then others knowing the truth—especially if they’re your parents. I never wanted them to look at me differently. Hell, I can’t even look at them now to see if they are looking at me any different; I don’t think I would be able to bare it if they were.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
I sigh. “Mom, how could I tell you? Dad would have gone to jail and you would have gone back to the bottle. It was better this way—drama free and Triple-A is all mine. You two would have made me find Alex and tell him he was the father.”
Beautifully Toxic (Toxic Love #1) Page 5