Page 106 of The Trade

And now, I’m left feeling lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty. I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going. His absence is a constant ache, a void I can’t seem to fill. Part of me still yearns for him, for the connection we shared.

But I know I can’t bring myself to trust him yet. Because right now, I can’t even trust myself.

31

WEST

Three weeks.

It’s been three soul-crushing, agonizingly long weeks since Jade left me, saying she needed time away. Time away from me and the mess I had unwittingly created.

Her parting words still echo in my ear. I try to imagine her healing, her moving forward, but the image only brings forth a wall of sharp, jagged pain. Three weeks of silence to me feels like three weeks of giving up.

But damn it, there’s no way I’m giving up, not when it comes to her, to us. No way in hell.

I’m determined to give her all the space and time she needs, as much as it tears me apart. But how is she ever going to find forgiveness in this overwhelming silence? In this physical and emotional distance?

Especially with that smug, insufferable Garrett strutting around, standing where I once stood. Fuck that guy.

“West, get your sorry ass up.” Cam’s voice booms, bouncing off the walls of our cramped living room. “We’re going to Lucky’s tonight.”

My limbs are heavy. Fatigue etches into every muscle fiber. I lazily stretch my arms across the back of the couch, sinking further into the worn-out cushions. “No, thanks, man.”

“Dude.” His voice carries a warning note. “We gotta get you back out there. I mean, you said it yourself—Jade’s moved on.”

My throat tightens at the reminder. “I know, Cam.” My words are barely more than a whisper. I tilt my head back, staring at the ceiling as if it holds the answers. “But it’s not over for me.”

“Really?” His voice drips with disbelief. “Didn’t she get with someone else like the same night you guys broke up?” He doesn’t even attempt to veil his pity. “I’m sorry, but that’s pretty brutal.”

The reality of the breakup, the sheer force of it, slices through me. The dark abyss of that night at the banquet, of finding solace in the false cheeriness of alcohol, still lingers. The days after were no different—just another hangover punctuated by my broken spirit.

Damn it all ... how would anyone react if the girl of their dreams dumped them and started sleeping with someone else? It was only natural that I sought oblivion, that I spilled my guts to my best friend in my drunken haze.

At first, Cam was a little pissed that I’d confided to Jade about the Trade. But his annoyance melted away into sympathy, understanding. He’s been my rock, then and now. His personal mission: to drag me kicking and screaming out of this hell.

“She’s still figuring out what she wants,” I say, clinging onto this belief like a lifeline. “I’m just ...I’m giving her space.”

“Giving her space to figure shit out or giving her space to get with someone else?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” I grumble, my voice heavy with frustration. “Both, I guess.”

“Do you think she’d be all over this new guy if she wanted to work things out? Because I don’t,” he tells me, shaking his head. “So let Jade do Jade. You, on the other hand, need some help getting out of your funk.”

A humorless snort escapes me. “And you think you can help me?”

“I think Lucky’s can help you—the alcohol, the team, the jersey chasers. They can all help you.”

“Fine, man,” I say, exhaustion lacing my tone. “I’ll go to Lucky’s, but you need to forget about the girls.”

His grin widens, triumphant. “Alright. Boys’ night, then. I’ll call the team and get the ball rolling.”

“Whatever,” I grumble, the bitter taste of defeat sitting heavy on my tongue.

With a groan, I force myself off the couch, attempting for the first time in weeks to look presentable. Whatever it takes to move past this feeling, this wretched, consuming sadness. Whatever it takes to mend my shattered heart.

* * *

By the timeCam and I have settled into a high table, nearly half of my teammates have already shown up. Sure, it’s a typical Saturday night here, but God, it feels alien to me now, like I’m a stranger intruding on a secret gathering.

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