Still, seeing him at the strip club was a punch of reality in comparison to the rumors I’ve heard over the years. Between his brother and the residents of Lanceleafconstantly talking about Dean, I thought I knew what to expect. That couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
Walking into Sapphire Rise, I saw the full force of who Dean Graham has become.
A man who disappeared and never looked back.
A man who joined the most dangerous motorcycle club on the West Coast.
A man who spent a year in prison—and it should have been longer.
And now, a man who is apparently running a strip club.
There’s absolutely nothing appealing about Dean’s life. He’s a walking red flag and everything a good girl’s dad warns her to stay away from growing up.
Yet, when I looked into his eyes, I still searched for the boy I met in a back alley at fifteen. I still hoped to see the parts of him he once showed me and no one else.
All I found was anger and indifference.
I slam my car door shut, grumbling as I adjust my skirt. There’s a fresh tear in my fishnets from where they snagged on the railing outside the strip club, and the hole is quickly growing.
I’m a mess.
At least I managed to keep it together until after I left Dean at the club. The last thing I need is him seeing what chaos I’ve become myself since he left town.
I don’t need his judgment.
Or worse, his sympathy.
Not when he’s clearly living his life to the fullest. A mess of recklessness. Surrounded by a good time. Thinking back, I suppose those qualities are what his life has alwaysbeen. It’s why I couldn’t have chosen him years ago, even if I wanted to.
Dean’s life is the perfect example of everything that always stood between us, and I hate it.
I climb the stairs at the side of the motel. Metal creaks under my boots like at any moment the rusted hinges might snap. I stop at the second level where my room sits, balancing a bag of road-trip snacks in my arm while I fish out my room key.
What was I thinking coming here?
I could have emailed Dean the information I handed him in the envelope. It didn’t require me to make the trip in person. But I had to see him.
Just once.
I needed to know for myself what he’d become. And now, I have no choice but to put him and Las Vegas in the rearview mirror and move on with my life.
Two men lean on the railing a few doors down. Smoke drifts through the air as one exhales a laugh. I hate the smell of cigarettes, but more than that, I hate who they remind me of. The two men skim me over as I wrestle with my things and unlock my door. They don’t bother offering to help, blatantly sweeping over me instead. Which is why I flip them off when one of them whistles at me.
Before he has time to lift off the railing, I hurry into my musty motel room, shutting the door and locking it. It’s not that I want trouble. Sometimes, I just can’t help it.
I set my groceries on the table inside, securing the dead bolt. Through the thin walls, I hear the guys laugh and then disappear into their own room.
It’s dark with my curtains pulled tight, so I take a shallow breath, centering myself. Dusty air clings to my lungs. The scent of stale cigarettes lingers, and I know when I flick on the light, I’ll be met with stained furniture and peeling wallpaper.
This place is a shithole, but I didn’t have a lot of choices with my budget.
It’s not that I don’t have money. I just don’t havemy ownmoney. Kincaid’s credit card sits in my wallet, unused. My father’s as well. I’m tired of depending on them. More than that, I’m worried they’ll track me to Vegas the second I use them.
I don’t need them knowing where I went. Or knowing I sawhim.
Closing my eyes, I try to make sense of what got me into this mess. I’ve made so many mistakes at this point in my life; there’s no going back to the beginning and unraveling it all.
“You’ve got this. They don’t control you. You’ve got this,” I mumble it a few times, but it doesn’t sink in as I flick on the light.
