Page 194 of Seizing Control: Part One

“It’s my fault,” I interject. “She moved in here with me, and I’ve monopolised her time.”

“Hmmm.” He sweeps his heavily tattooed arm out to silently request that I take a seat. “You wouldn’t be coverin’ for the fact my sister has fallen for a certain basketball stars charms again... because that would be a dumb decision to make after all the effort we expended to patch them both up the last time they broke up.”

I grind my teeth while I search for the right way to tell the man who’s about to permanently mark my skin that his frank assessment of my brother and best friend’s relationship is unneeded. We’ve all been on this merry-go-round before, and have learnt the hard way that they’ll do what they want, consequences be damned.

With a huff, Nadia flounces out of the dining room.

Stomping footsteps fill the house.

A door slams a moment later.

“Not sure how to word this without pissing you off,” I muse as evenly as I can.

Atlas is the president of the Wheatbelt chapter my father once ran. Slash’s wife or not, it’s not my place to tell him how to act, but Nadia is my best friend, and she would stick up for me, so I can’t let his hostility pass without comment.

“It’s unkind to speak to another adult like that—especially one with a heart of gold.”

“Say no more,” he tells me in a flat tone. “You’re right... I’m an unemotional prick who needs to think before he speaks.” When I offer him a tight smile, Atlas quips, “Re-uppin’ my shares in Kleenex is at the top of my to-do list.”

“Probably sound business sense... their track record suggest heartache is in the cards.”

He inclines his head sharply. “If I could put a bullet in him, I would.”

Biting my tongue, I refrain from telling Atlas that his sister is as much to blame as Sander for the angst that surrounds them. They both treat each other terribly. Their impulse control is non-existent. As soon as the honeymoon period wears off and the initial flushes of lust give way to arguments, the games begin.

Nadia cheats.

Sander spirals.

My twin cheats to get back at her.

They break up.

They make up.

Sander cheats.

Nadia spirals, and fucks one of his teammates.

And the pattern continues until one of them ends up in rehab again.

In unspoken but mutual agreement, Atlas and I drop the subject.

He organises his pots of ink. I get settled in the chair opposite his. We settle into a nice rhythm after Atlas stencils on the scalpel Slash wants on my inner wrist. The soft drone of the tattoo gun is a balm to my nerves. An antiseptic tang hangs in the air that feels oddly familiar, even though it’s been years since I was last tattooed.

“Whaddya think?”

Lifting my arm, I inspect my newest piece of ink. “It’s perfect.”

Atlas wraps Saniderm around my forearm, then he slides a drawing over to me. “Slash said ya wanted this too?”

“Yep.”

“It’s mangled.”

“Like my heart,” I quip.

It’s difficult to remove my leather vest without jostling my forearm, but I managed it. The string bikini I’m wearing is even harder to untie. I struggle with the knot behind my neck until Atlas stays me with a pat on the shoulder.

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