Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
WYATT
I had gone over it. Hell, I had torn it open and pulled out all the pieces of what Julian and I were and spread it out.
I had examined it over and over again, and in the end, what lay in front of me was the bloody mess we would become.
I reminded myself of that as I opened the door to find Julian standing there.
He wore a dark suit that complemented the color of his eyes.
There was a purple bruise under his left eye and a line of tiny little stitches across the bridge of his nose.
At the sight of him, I pushed the mess to the side because I wanted every second of this hour.
Our last hour. “I missed you,” I confessed.
“Me too.” Julian cupped my face, kissing me softly.
Why could this not be us? I loved the way he made me feel. The way he cupped my face between his hands when he kissed me. That when he pulled away, his eyes were warm and soft. I pressed my forehead to his chest, not wanting to do this. Not wanting to end this.
“What’s wrong?” He ducked to meet my gaze.
The concern I saw on his face made the tears burn my throat.
Why hadn’t I met him in high school? Why couldn’t he have been selling tickets outside my parents’ bar?
Or even in LA, flashing that beautiful smile.
Where was he when I was ready to fall in love?
When some asshole I barely remembered was breaking my heart, where had Julian been? “We can’t do this anymore.”
“Why? If it’s the whole payment—”
“No.” I pulled away. “That’s the problem.” I walked into the living room and poured myself a shot of tequila.
“Cass.”
“It’s Wyatt,” I said before I took the shot. “My name is Wyatt Cassidy Halliday.” I poured another, hoping if I drank enough, the pain would go away.
He took the shot away from me and swallowed it down. “Okay, that still doesn’t explain what you said.”
“I’m an escort, Julian. No.” I closed my eyes. That word was too soft. And it wasn’t the truth. “I’m a whore. I get paid to have sex.” I watched him inhale my words.
“So this is about the payment.”
“No. It’s about what I do.” I hated saying those words around him.
“I know what you do.”
“Do you really?” I didn’t think people really understood what went on behind closed doors.
I fucked the rich and the very powerful.
I knew all their dirty little secrets because I was one of them.
“I got back on Thursday. I didn’t call you because I had two clients.
I had sex with two different men. Maverick because he pays my rent, and the other because that’s what I do.
” I didn’t soften my words. I wanted them to cut him.
He needed to know how sharp the truth was.
“That weekend before I met you, I was in New York. I was there to see a man. No, I was there to fuck him.” I watched my words hit Julian.
It wouldn’t help either of us to sugarcoat any of it.
“He barely spoke to me. He didn’t tell me about his childhood or ask about mine.
I was there to be the woman he fucked. He didn’t care if I ate or slept.
Didn’t ask how my day was. He didn’t care about me.
But I still went because he paid me twenty-five thousand dollars.
” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
I got the same attention as his staff, which was less than the overpriced cars he drove.
I was a thing he used. “That’s all I’m worth. ”
Julian took a deep breath. “I have to fly to New York in a couple weeks. There I will have to push through the swelling and the pain in my right knee. Tape up my left wrist and five fingers because I’ve broken them or sprained them so many times they have no flexibility left.
Because some man who doesn’t care if I eat or sleep pays me to do that.
Then I have to slam some guy wearing the wrong colored jersey into the boards over and over because he took a little rubber puck from me.
Again, because some man in a suit pays me to do that.
And the best part is if I lose, I get to see the replays over and over again.
I get to hear about it on podcasts and on the news.
See the disappointment in the fans’ eyes and in my teammates because I let them down.
Because I didn’t play better.” He poured another shot.
“All because a man in a suit pays me ten million dollars a year. So cheers to being fucked by men in suits,” he said and slammed back the shot.
“It’s not the same.”
“You’re right. It’s not. Because after your weekend, you don’t need me to button your shirts or put your pieces back together when some asshole calls you washed-up.
And this”—he pointed to his face—“will be minor to what I will look like come April. My knee will be so bad I can’t walk, and my left shoulder will be so stiff I’ll need you to dress me.
And if we make the playoffs, there will be some weeks you’ll be lucky to see me for a few hours.
And you will regret those hours.” He touched my cheek.
“These feelings that I’m somehow better than you because I keep my clothes on will be gone by March. ”
“They won’t, and that’s the problem.” I hated the words he spoke.
“For you it is. Not for me.”
“No, Julian. You deserve better than what I can give you.”
“No!” he yelled.
“Yes!” I yelled back. “I’m not good for you.”
“Then this is a match made in fucking heaven because if you think that I—”
“This isn’t about you!” I yelled. “I hate what I did to you. I hated that I fucked Maverick because I was lonely. That I fucked some asshole from Dallas because I needed the money. And the whole time, all I could think about was you and how disappointed you would be in me! How I was hurting you.” The tears fell fast as I put words to my actions.
“And the difference between our little New York trips is there is nothing you could do on the ice or off the ice that would ever hurt me as much as I hurt you.”
“You’re not hurting me. When I think about you, it’s not what you do for a living. I worry I’m not enough. That you’ll get sick of all this shit and leave. But I never think about you with them.”
“Julian,” I whispered. The words were right there. The words to end us. But they got stuck in my throat.
“Do you love them?”
“No.”
“Do you like it?” His voice was raw.
“No.” Sex had become a job. A thing I had to do to pay the bills. There were no emotions or thoughts attached to it. Until Julian. But that didn’t mean this would work out. That we could get past this.
“And when you’re with me? Am I like them? Is that what this is really about?”
I shook my head no. “I’ll hurt you. And I’ll never forgive myself for that.
” So many people had left their mark on him.
I didn’t want to be another person. Julian stepped closer to me, wiping a thumb under my eye.
His touch only made the tears fall faster.
“I can’t quit.” I could tell myself it was the money. But the truth was, I didn’t know how.
“Neither can I. But I can’t lose you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t leave me.” He picked me up and set me on the bar. He ran his thumb over my bottom lip, down my throat, then stopped at the base. “I need you. Every time something goes wrong, I think if I can…” He took an unsteady breath. “Please don’t end this.”
He pressed a kiss to my wrist, then to the inside of my elbow.
God, this was so fucked up. I should’ve told him to go home.
Instead, I was reaching for the button on his pants.
Because I needed him too. I needed to hear the way his breath hitched when I touched him.
How the muscle in his jaw finally loosened when we were together.
I needed him because when I was with him, I didn’t feel so alone.
“Can you really look past all this? Of what I am?” I searched his face for the truth.
“Yes, can you? Will you, on the bad days, forgive me?”
I nodded as he pulled me to the edge of the bar, his cock pressed against me.
He kissed my neck, his tongue in my ear.
His one hand cupping my breast. If I were smart, I would send him away.
But I wasn’t, and that was what had gotten me into this whole mess.
I made one poor decision after another. So why stop now?
I closed my eyes and ignored the mess that was still in the corner. A bloody reminder of how we would end.
Julian lifted his head, tracing my jaw with his thumb. “I need to hear you say it.”
I leaned in to kiss him. Somewhere in the neon or carried on the winds that blew across the desert were all the reasons that this wouldn’t work out. The reasons I shouldn’t do this. Shouldn’t be here with this man. But as I said, I wasn’t smart enough to see them.
“Wyatt.”
How long had I waited to hear that name fall from his lips? “Say it again.”
He pulled his shirt over his head. “Tell me, Wyatt.” He purred out my name. “Tell me you are okay with the stitches, the swollen joints, and all the shit that comes with being with me. All the fucked-up parts.”
“Yes. All of them.” I leaned forward, freeing his cock from his pants.
He slid my ass to the end of the bar, and his fingers dug into my hip as he thrust into me.
“Oh god.” I felt like the weight of my life had been lifted.
I closed my eyes and rode the hard and fast wave of Julian.
Tangled my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to me.
To Wyatt. And the silly girl who gave up on so many things.
“Oh fuck, Wyatt. I’m so sorry.” Regret filled Julian’s eyes.
“For what?” I cupped his cheek, afraid he was going to take it all back. It was one thing to make promises when we were half naked and desperate with need. But when the hormones and all the body parts were tucked back in, those words lost their meaning. And they became part of foreplay.
“I didn’t use a condom. I… I didn’t mean to. I’m clean. I swear, you are the only one I have been with.”
“Julian.” I let out a strangled cry of relief, which left me lightheaded, almost dizzy. I took his hand and kissed his palm.
“I can’t have kids,” he blurted out before he pulled away.
All the better, since I didn’t want them. I slipped down from the bar, stepping closer to him. “Let’s not worry about that now.” I led him to the bedroom. I kind of liked this. Fucking him with nothing between us.
I’d deal with whatever the wind blew in tomorrow.