Love At First Hate (Love At Firsts Book 2)(6)

There are two wolves battling inside my head right now.

The good versus the evil.

The good never stood a chance.

It’s been years since I’ve stopped fighting my inner demons.

We’re on the same side now.

Las Vegas.

Such a crazy place. No matter where you go, no matter what time of the day or night, people are out drinking, gambling, partying and f*ck knows what else. I don’t do gambling or partying, only drinking, like right now on the flight back home to Denver, Colorado. I probably shouldn’t drink as I have to drive home, but I’m not ready to face the reality of my life just yet. This break was exactly what I needed.

The convention circuit as a tattoo artist is something that you have to go through. It’s both an enriching experience and the best way to get your name out there and make yourself known. The only issue is I don’t do well at interacting with other people.

When I’m at the shop, it’s easy to block them out. The noise of the tattoo gun going does the job just well. Usually, the clients just chat away, which makes it easier for me, and our shop manager often comes to see how we’re doing so she’s the one really talking to the clients.

At a convention, you have to talk to the potential clients about your work and your experience, your style of tattooing. You have to sell yourself and your work to book more tattoos. All of the things I hate doing. I’d rather let my art speak for itself than having to defend or justify it.

Thankfully, Ellie, my best friend and co-worker, was there to keep me grounded. I think I’d have punched a few people and probably would have been locked up had she not been there. She’s the only true friend that I have and the only person I’ve let in my life. She knows my deepest secrets, except one. Nobody knows, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can, even if it means making myself unhappy.

This week was refreshing in the way that I didn’t have to deal with my family or girlfriend. I don’t get along with my family. I never have and probably never will. It’s a shocker that they haven’t disowned me for shaming the family name. See, my parents sent me to military camp and then to join the Army. I was sent to Afghanistan where I learned things the hard way.

I saw people die daily. I fought for my life. Bombs were exploding left, right, and center and killed entire squads. If it’s not you dying, it’s the guy next to you. It put things into perspective for me. Don’t get me wrong, I was honored to serve my country, but it’s not the path I’d have picked for myself had I had a say in it. To this day, I’m still paying for the irreversible consequences.

I come from a very strict military background. It goes back to my great-great-grandfather. All the firstborn men in the family since him have been in the military, and it wasn’t any different for me. I was discharged fifteen years ago for medical reasons, and I didn’t choose to keep working in a military environment; another strike against me for my family. I could have accepted a desk job, but it’s not me. It never was me. I’m not good when it comes to doing things that require thinking and not messing up, things that could put a lot of people in danger.

I’m more of an artistic person. I’ve always been into drawing, music, photography. Anything that doesn’t require you to think about what you’re doing. Anything that lets your mind be free and express itself the way it wants to.

That’s why I chose to become a tattoo artist after I was discharged from the military. My parents still haven’t accepted it. They think it’s just a phase, that I’m rebelling because they sent me to military camp when I was sixteen. I didn’t believe them when they first told me they were sending me there. I don’t know who my father talked to, but it was very efficient.

Even with me being thirty-five, my parents still don’t accept me for me or what I’m choosing to do with my life. To be honest, I don’t think they ever will.

They go as far as telling me who I can and cannot date. Lame, I know. I shouldn’t let it happen, but I’ve learned that it’s easier to go their way instead of against them. They are doing it to my brother, Frank, and Caroline, my older sister too. At least my younger sister, Madeline is safe at the moment.

I’m not one to go after relationships or want one. I don’t want kids. I just want to live my life, be myself and be content that way. I don’t want anyone to judge me for my choices, but apparently, they don’t see things that way. They are trying to force this relationship with Lindsey on me, and this masquerade has been going on for a year.

They introduced me to her a year ago. She’s the daughter of one of my father’s military friends. She’s a nice girl: long brown hair, blue eyes, perky tits and a nice ass, but man she has an annoying voice and the personality that goes with it. She sounds like one of those stupid dumb bimbos.

Honestly, I don’t know why I let myself get roped into going on a blind date with her, but I did, and she hasn’t left me since. I mean it’s easy sex. I don’t have to try and seduce her to get her into my bed, so that’s a plus. The thing that bothers me the most is that she wants kids and to get married. She knows I don’t want any of those things, but she says I’ll change my mind down the line and that once we have a baby I’ll be over the moon.

There’s one thing she doesn’t know about me. I got a vasectomy a couple of years ago when one girl I was f*cking on the regular ended up pregnant. I didn’t want it to happen again, so I got the snip. Sadly, for the girl, she had a miscarriage and selfishly, that means I didn’t have to still be in touch with her or take care of a kid I didn’t want in the first place. Heartless? No. I wouldn’t subject a kid to the f*cked up mess that is my life.