Page 14 of How We End

“There is no right or wrong way.Well, there is, but I don’t think we need to worry about that tonight.”I smiled.“Let me get you another drink.You sit, and we’ll talk.”I stood and took his glass.I had never had to work this hard at my job.

Anders was wrong.Julian didn’t need to get laid.The poor guy probably needed some therapy.

“So, you play hockey.”I cringed at how lame that sounded.I prided myself on knowing how to talk to men, hold their interest.But Julian had given me nothing but hockey stats.

“Not very well.I can’t shoot a fucking puck to save my life.Half this city thinks I’m too old to play; the other half thinks I’m washed-up.They’re probably right.The team wants to scratch me.And…” The muscle in his jaw tightened.“But yeah, I play hockey.”

I handed him his drink.“What does it mean, the team wants to scratch you?”I sat back down on the couch.Thankfully, he followed.

“They take me out of the lineup.Which means they don’t think I can play anymore.They think I’m too old.I’m not useful to the team.If they scratch me, then they can play someone else.Someone younger.”

I almost laughed at the parallel of this.“I had a client say the same.”

“That you can’t play anymore?”

“No.”I swirled the tequila around in my glass before I swallowed it.“He said my left breast was saggy and that I looked old.I guess it happens to the best of us.So if we are both a scratch, what happens next?”

“Why would he say that?”Julian met my eyes, his blue gaze darker in the low light.“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“He said it, so it must be true.”I wasn’t sure why the hell I was telling him this.I never shared personal things with clients.

“It’s not.I mean, I don’t know what your breasts look like.But I’m sure they’re fine.”

“They are.”I slid a little closer.I could smell the soft scent of his cologne.“But why do you believe what they say about you?”I traced the seam of his shirt on his shoulder.

“I haven’t scored since last February.And that’s what they pay me to do.”He stared out the windows.“I used to be good.”

“Yes, well, I used to be twenty.”I drained my drink.“Do you believe you’re washed-up, Julian?”

“Maybe.They would know, right?”He rested his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his face.“Can we not talk about hockey, please?”

“Sure, what would you like to talk about?Your childhood?Your favorite movie?You tell me.”

“That’s the problem.I don’t know anything other than hockey.Even my childhood was about the game.I don’t have time to watch anything but game films.”His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of self-doubt.“I’m sorry.This was a bad idea.I can’t even stand to be around myself.Why would you want to?”

I had a job to do, and a promise to keep to Anders, and Julian had paid.I stood in front of him, taking his glass.I could see the weight of the world pressing down on him.“Do you want to leave?”

“No.”He ran his hand up the back of my legs.“Do you want me to?”

I pushed him back on the couch and straddled him.“No.I want you to kiss me, please.”

His eyes were on my mouth.“What if I disappoint you?”

“You haven’t yet.”And that was the truth.

CHAPTEREIGHT

JULIAN

October 18

Cassidy’s mouth was soft and willing.She wasn’t what I expected, not that I’d had any real expectation.She pulled her sweater over her head, the low light catching on sharp edges and delicate lines of her shoulders and breasts.She looked almost breakable.The lean muscle stretched over her ribs shifted with each breath she took.

“Tell me what you want, Julian.”Her blonde hair fell loose around her shoulders.

My hands spanned her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breast.I didn’t have to be anyone with her.

“I want to forget.”I didn’t want to be Julian Silver—the aging right wing with a career on the decline.A man with nothing to gain and everything to lose.