Page 45 of How We End

November 18

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”Julian asked, slowly trailing a finger up my thigh.

We lay amongst the sheets in the blue neon that filled the room.A reminder of what we were.What I was.Julian wore a pair of dark blue boxers low on his hips.There was less tension in his jaw, fewer shadows under his eyes.

“Cass.”

No matter how softly he said that name, it felt dirty.It was also a reminder of what I was.“I’m supposed to go home.I mean, I’m going home.”I hadn’t been back to Deadwood since the Fourth, and that had been part of my trip to New York.I was there long enough to fight with my sister and realize I no longer belonged there.

“You don’t want to?”

“It’s complicated.”And it was.I had to be the Wyatt my father believed in.Not the Wyatt sitting in her underwear, talking to a client.“My father doesn’t know what I do.He thinks I work in the back office of the casino.My sister is angry with me because she’s stuck with…”

“With what?”Julian pushed himself up on his elbow.

I had to stop this.He was a paying client, and I needed to remember that.But god, he made it hard.There was something about him that didn’t just make me want to cross the lines—I wanted to erase them.Maybe it was the blue of his eyes or the sharp cut of his cheekbones.Whatever it was, I hadn’t felt it with anyone else.“Julian, that’s not why you’re here.”

“I’m here to spend time with you, and that’s what I’m doing.”

He was here to have sex with me.Anything else was the lead-up tothatsex.He wasn’t my boyfriend.Or even a friend.“You are not here to listen to me talk about my fucked-up family.You deserve better than that.”I touched his cheek; he needed to shave, but I kind of liked the rougher look facial hair gave him.

“I am getting what I deserve.”He leaned into my touch, kissing my hand.

“No, you’re not.”He deserved better than what I could give him.I wished I were some girl he met after a game and we were a normal couple.But wishes in Las Vegas held no value.

“Yes, I am.And it’s my four hours and…” He looked over at the alarm clock.“And I still have one hour and thirty-five minutes.So tell me, please.”

“Don’t you see how fucked up this is?”

“No, and I don’t want to talk about that.I want to talk about you.”He moved closer.

I loved the way he looked amongst the sheets and blankets.I had decided my favorite part of him was his shoulders.Actually, the spot before the curve of his neck.Muscle stretched over bone.It was that spot where he carried everything.The stress of the game and being Julian.It was my favorite spot because I knew if I pressed a kiss to that spot or rested my head on it, I eased some of that weight.

“There isn’t much to talk about.My father doesn’t know what I do, end of story.What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Eating.You haven’t told me the story, so how can it be the end?”

I played with a loose string on the shirt of his I was wearing.I knew what he was getting at.He wanted to know how a girl like me ended up here.Everyone did.There wasn’t one moment I could point to and say if I had done that differently, I wouldn’t be here.There were nineteen years of moments that led to me being here.“I wasn’t abused.Not forced to do this.I’m a stupid girl who got in over her head.”I waited for his reaction.“How’s that for a story?”

“You skipped a couple parts.Las Vegas is a long way from Deadwood.”

“So is Warroad.”

“I got traded here.I didn’t have a choice.”

“Would you go back?”

“To Warroad?No, there’s nothing left there for me.”Julian inhaled, his features softening.“Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Because that’s not what we are.”I moved from the bed.

“Then what are we?”He sat up.

“Not this.”I motioned between us.“At some point, you are going to realize how fucked up this is.”I rubbed my brow, trying to catch the thoughts that spun around in my head.“This.What we have right now is hormones.Sex does this.It complicates things.”I struggled to put this into words that would make him see the truth.That at some point, the shine of paying for sex would wear off and he’d move on.“It makes us think things that aren’t true.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” I couldn’t get the words out without tears following close behind.I didn’t cry over shit like this.It was just sex.