The Sinner (The St. Clair Brothers 1)

Damaged. Fucking. Goods.

And always would be.

At least I had something to look forward to. After failing to administer Calloway’s well deserved beat down, and breaking things off with Amanda, in less than twenty-four hours, I'd once again come face-to-face with Rocco “Sasquatch” Calloway. A glittering diamond on the pile of dogshit of my life. Tomorrow night I got another chance to break Calloway’s ribs.

Despite the inherent glee from the image of busting up Sasquatch, the stress from the sequence of events caused the black cloud to return. The gaping emptiness I screwed out of my system filled back up as the twisted darkness took root and grew.

Twitch, twitch, twitch.

I swatted at my stupid eye while dodging an idiot in an overloaded pickup truck, thoughts of the Beverly Hillbillies popping into my head. Naturally, the constant eye spasms brought back a barrage of negative memories and my mood plummeted further. By the time I pulled into the W Hotel's parking garage, the atmosphere in the cab of my truck was so fucking cold I wouldn't have been surprised to find icicles on the ceiling. The ache in my chest flared and I scratched at it as if I could make it stop. I fucked away my issues with Amanda and already felt like I was going to explode. The cycle was exhausting.

While waiting for the elevator, I thought about my pathetic excuse for a life and realized, if I didn't have Rémy, hockey, and my teammates, I wouldn't have anything.

“You really are a bastard, you know that?”

I slouched further down in my seat on the private jet the Comets used to fly us around the country and kicked Evvy in the shin. I should have kept my damn mouth shut about breaking it off with Amanda, but I guess I needed to tell someone. Being an island only got me so far and Ev was the only one who knew enough about my demons to understand.

“You're supposed to be on my side, Evvy.”

Calvin Everette got called up the same year as me. As rookies, they paired us up to room together on road trips. I despised Ev on sight and didn't hesitate to tell him exactly what I thought. Evvy responded by popping me in the mouth, giving me a fat lip. I reciprocated. After wiping off the blood, we exchanged begrudging respect for one another and have been best friends ever since. Maybe it wasn't the normal start of a friendship, but it had lasted seven years and counting. With the exception of my brother, Ev was my longest relationship.

That was pretty fucking sad, and it said a lot about me.

Evvy chuckled and thumped me in the bicep. “If you want someone to suck up to your inflated ego and agree with everything you say, you're barking up the wrong tree.” He lowered his voice and shifted closer. “You know you're going to run into Amanda every now and then, dude. I'm just sayin’, you could have been nicer going about dumping her.”

“I didn't dump her,” I hissed. “We were fuck buddies, that's it.”

Ev snorted. “Yeah. If you consider the shit you’re into to be fucking.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I leaned toward him, offended by his choice of words. Evvy was the only person in the world who knew about me. Everything about me. Rémy knew a lot, but there were certain things I never wanted my brother to find out. With Ev, I didn't have to edit things out. He knew my past, my childhood, and my screwed up way of dealing with things. While I knew Evvy didn't judge what I did in bed as long as it was with a consenting adult, it stung to hear what he really thought.

Evvy shrugged. “Don't get all bent out of shape. You know I don't care if you have massive orgies and use your dick to swing from the chandelier, as long as you show up and play hockey. Just…” The drawn out pause made my hackles rise.

“Just what?”

“I dunno, man. You gotta wonder about a chick who likes that shit.”

My jaw dropped. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

Seriously. Ev isn't a deep thoughts kind of guy. That's why I like him. He's fun, easy to be around, and rolls with the punches. The fact that he put any thought whatsoever into the mindset of my sexual partners was disturbing to say the least. Evvy turned and stared at me, his hazel eyes so somber, my stomach dropped.

“Dude, you can't tell me you've never been curious why the women you screw her into… You know.” He made a rolling motion with his hand.

“Into what, Evvy? If you're trying to make a point, have the balls to say it out loud.”

Evvy’s gaze darted around then he tilted his head closer to me. "Shhh. Lower your voice, Sebby.”

I grimaced, but knew he was right. I definitely didn't want any of our teammates eavesdropping on our conversation. A conversation I couldn't believe I was having.

“Women who are into being tied down and hurt during sex, that's what you mean, right?”

Evvy’s cheeks reddened. “Well, yeah. What's going on up here for them to want that?” He tapped the side of his head.

I sat back and sighed. “No. To be honest, I've never given any thought. It’s difficult enough to find someone who's not only willing and able, but knows how to keep her mouth shut afterward. So no, I don't care why they like it, just that they let me do it.” I left unspoken the part where I figured my partners were probably just as screwed up as me. Which said a lot.

Evvy laughed. “Back to what I said before. You're a real bastard.”

That comment earned him another sharp kick to the shin.