Page 17 of Waiting for Redemption

“Yes.”

“I have… so many questions.” He laughs. “Like first of all, what the fuck?” We both laugh this time and I pick my beer back up, turning to face the same direction as him.

“She’s feeling judged now, and will be taking no further questions.”

“My deepest apologies,” he says, looking at my arm like he’s speaking directly to the tattoo. I give a nod of approval at his apology.

“Okay, your turn.”

“What? You wanna know about my tattoos?” He assumes, and though that’s not what I intended to ask, I’ll take any reason to stare at his arms a little longer.

“Well, the logo for the Marine Corps on your hand, tattered American flag, smoke background,1776,and cannon covering your left arm all seem pretty self-explanatory. Very patriotic.” I give him a smirk, earning a raised brow in return before letting my eyes fall to his neck. “Though the little skeleton guy with a spear through his head on your neckdoespique my interest, as well as the tattoo on your chest, the raven with a heart in its talons on your other hand, and whatever words are tattooed above it.” He nods slowly, taking a sip of his beer before placing it on the bar. Then he points to the tattoo on his neck.

“It’s like a mashup of the insignia from Blackbeard’s flag.”

“Blackbeard?” I raise a brow in question.

“The pirate.”

“Right, of course,” I say sarcastically, earning a playful glare from him.

“The tattoo on my chest basically means no pity, no mercy. And the raven, heart, and quotes are from two of my favorite pieces by Edgar Allen Poe.”

“Curious.” I narrow my gaze, but when he doesn’t elaborate further I move on. “Okay then. Do I want to know about the haunted mansion with the dead tree and ghost on this arm?” I nod to the arm closest to me, making him turn it slightly to look at it.

“I like spooky shit.” He shrugs, making me laugh. “Does that mean it’s my turn now?”

“No. You totally hijacked my turn and picked the question. What Ireallywant to know is what you were like as a kid.”

“Why?” He rears back, clearly surprised by the inquiry.

“I don’t know. Something tells me I would have wanted to know you when you were little.” I shrug, answering with pure transparency.

“Nah. You definitely wouldn’t have wanted to know me then. I’m not sure you really wanna know me now either,” he says, hanging his head.

“Tell me anyways, please.” He shakes his head and then lets out another sigh.

“Honestly? I was bad as shit.” He laughs. “My dad passed away when I was seven, and my mom just kind of stopped living when he did.”

“I’m so sorry, Tank. I’m sure that was really hard for you guys” I say, rubbing his hand with my pinky. He gives me a sad smile before he continues.

“Yeah… She was there but not really, ya know? Anyway, Tucker always tried keeping me on track but I was dealing with the grief in my own way and he couldn’t always be there to put me in my place. When I got to middle school there was this one guy… he was the biggest bully I’d ever met. I was getting into so many fights with him that I was on the verge of being expelled. But there was this one guidance counselor who made the suggestion to join the wrestling team to keep me out of trouble.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah. It did, actually. He tried fighting me one more time, but I shut him down and that was the end of my fighting days. Off the mat at least.” The thought brings a smile to my face and I just want to hear more.

“Were you any good? At wrestling?”

“The best our school ever had.”

“He says with such humility,” I add jokingly. He smiles, showing off his perfect, pointed canines. “What happened next? Did you keep wrestling?”

“I did. I started doing MMA in high school and fought all throughout college and some after.” He nods, turning to face me.

“That’s so interesting. I would have never guessed that about you.” He smirks and I feel my cheeks heat at the distance that is lacking between us.

“Your turn,” he says, nodding to me.

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