Page 110 of The Trade

“I’m not intentionally trying to hurt you,” she says, her voice softer now. “See, this is why we just shouldn’t be around each other.”

“That’s so fucking false. I’d rather have you break my heart a hundred times over than spend another week without you.”

Her eyes pinch shut at my confession. “Look—”

“No, I get it,” I interrupt her. “You’re still not ready. Just ...go find your girls and have fun tonight. Dance with whoever you want. I’ll mind my own fucking business.”

With one last lingering look, I turn to leave, knowing that there’s another stiff and solitary drink in my future.

“West,” she calls after me. “I’m sorry.”

I pause, my heart racing as I meet her eyes. “For what?”

“For kissing you tonight when I wasn’t ready to.”

With a bitter smile, I shake my head. “Don’t apologize for going after what you want.”

And when I finally leave her alone in that dark bathroom hallway, a cocktail of emotions surges through me, a chaotic symphony of heartbreak, hope, and resolve.

Jade hasn’t moved on. Not in the slightest. And maybe, it’s time for me to fight for her forgiveness, to fight for us, rather than stay drowning in my own self-pity.

32

JADE

Last night was a total disaster.I shouldn’t have let myself get anywhere near West, let alone share a kiss with him. The error wasn’t just in that moment, though. It started when I allowed us to be alone in that dimly lit hallway, away from prying eyes.

He knew just where to place his hands, just how to touch me. He’s an expert at pushing my buttons, at knowing exactly how to make me lose control. And he’s infuriatingly good at it, too.

I won’t lie. I did feel a sting of jealousy when I saw that pixie-haired girl sitting beside him. She was stunning and practically attached to his hip. She was running her fingers through his hair, attempting to mark her territory right there in front of me.

It was nothing but a petty, raw pang of envy, but it felt real.

It’s not like I’m the only one who’d feel that way. No one wants to see their ex in the arms of someone else. But it’s just that—a simple, involuntary reaction. Doesn’t mean I’m looking to go back to him right away. It doesn’t imply that his kiss magically glued together the pieces of my broken heart.

And it’s even further from meaning that I’m able to trust him again.

He’s done nothing to earn my forgiveness other than give me blanket apologies. I know I asked him to stay away, and he’s done his part in respecting my wishes, but it’s not enough to make me reconsider.

What really stings is not having anyone to share these feelings with. Sophie and Maya, my fair-weather friends, were too busy hooking up with West’s pals last night.

Their initial advice? Fuck his best friend. Utterly useless. Still, I can’t blame them—they were just looking for some fun. Besides, I’ve been avoiding spilling the real reason behind our split to anyone.

Not even to Shannon.

Instead, I’ve been keeping my distance, making excuses to stay out late, evading the issue for weeks. I want us to go back to being friends, to lean on her like I did before. Sure, she slept with my brother. It was a mistake, spurred by hormones, impulsiveness, and the classic Mica Jennings charm.

I could forgive her for that. I can see her regret, in the little notes she leaves me, in how she steps up with our shared duties, in how she gives me space when I need it. But my pride has been a barrier, stopping me from bridging the distance between us.

I know I’m blowing things out of proportion at this point. Mostly because I’m too scared to confront the reality of the situation, which is that I allowed myself to feel second rate. To let jealousy and comparison seep into my mind.

Because it hurts, so badly, thinking that West might have chosen Shannon, my friend and roommate, over me. Might have swapped me around like a playing card. And all of that just for one night with his gorgeous, redheaded, fairy dream girl. It was all before West and I were even a thing, but it still fucking stings.

So, when I found my brother in her room that night, it left me feeling like the second option all over again. The afterthought. It felt like my own sibling had chosen Shannon over me. But that’s my issue, not hers. So, I need to let go of this bitterness, once and for all.

“Shan,” I call, gently knocking on her bedroom door.

“Come in,” she says cautiously.

---