Page 122 of The Trade

JADE

It’s beena week since I landed at the SeaTac Airport. I’d completed my finals and then hastily booked the first flight home, yearning to put some distance between myself and the whirlwind of mistakes I left behind.

A huge part of me regrets that morning—the way I left West asleep in his bed, our bodies still carrying the warmth of our night together. A heated goodbye kiss that somehow crossed the line into something more ... something that wasn’t part of my plan.

Yet just because it happened doesn’t mean I had a total change of heart. I still stand by the intentions I laid out from the start. Or, at least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

A newly mended relationship facing nearly three months of separation ... it’s a recipe for heartbreak. West needs to focus on his training, and I can focus on my family.

My insecurities shouldn’t be the distraction he has to deal with when he has so much at stake: his performance, the prospect of entering the draft after the season. I couldn’t bear to be the one who screwed it up for him. And I know if we stayed together, he would only be thinking about how to make me happy all summer.

So yes, there will be girls swarming over him throughout our time apart. Cheerleaders, jersey chasers, summer school co-eds, and I’ll be here, hundreds of miles away, wishing to trade places with any one of them.

That’s a large part of the reason I slipped away from our warm bed that morning. Any longer and my defenses might’ve crumbled, and my insecurities would’ve gotten the best of me. Maybe if I were stronger, if I weren’t so scared, I could handle the months apart without worrying that I’m an unnecessary distraction.

As it stands, he might decide that all this isn’t worth it come September.

Because I messed up too. We had something good, something pure and real, and I pushed him away.

I have no doubt he’s upset with me, probably thinks I’m not worth the trouble. After all, I haven’t heard from him since I left. I don’t know if he passed his courses, if he’s taking summer credits, or if he even knows that I flew home.

For now, we’re miles apart, each in our own worlds. I’ve made my choices, and now I have to live with them. Alone.

Despite understanding that I brought this upon myself, I’ve been moping around the house all week, prompting my parents to worry over my “mood.” It’s touching in a way but also a stark reminder of what it feels like to be constantly under their watchful gaze.

It’s been thirteen days since I’ve heard from West. Thirteen days filled with self-pity, regret, and half-baked apologies that he’ll never hear. However, that doesn’t give my parents the right to invade my space. I’m an adult, capable of making my own decisions.

If I choose to relish in a steaming cup of coffee at eight o’clock at night, alone in complete silence, that’s my prerogative.

Except, according to my dad, it’s not.

My father strolls into the kitchen, a picture of feigned surprise as he spots me, using the clever ploy to cover the concern in his eyes. He guides his four-wheeled walker to my side, flipping its seat open before settling down next to me. “Hey, kiddo, you sure you’re doin’ okay?”

I manage to stretch my lips into a tight-lipped smile, the effort straining my already worn-out resolve. “Yeah, Dad,” I reassure him, “I’m good.”

“Well, you know you don’t have to be,” he reminds me gently, a hint of sadness lingering in his eyes. “Not around me, anyway.”

“I know.” My reply comes out as a mere whisper, my shoulders slumping under the weight of the truth. “And I’m sorry I’ve been so mopey lately. I really did miss you and Ma.”

His response is a heartening grin. “Don’t you worry. We know ya did, kiddo. But we have a little surprise for you out in the living room.”

Confusion knits my brows. “What is it?”

A spark of mischief ignites in his eyes as he suggests, “Why don’t you go on and find out? I’ll catch up.”

I peel myself off the kitchen stool and head down the twisted hallway. The sounds of hushed whispers float my way, slowly growing louder with each step. A familiar feminine voice tinged with a hint of anticipation—that’s definitely my mom. But the next voice sends a jolt of surprise coursing through me—a deep, rich tone that unmistakably belongs to my brother.

I dash into the living room. “Ace!” I shout, tackling him into a forceful hug.

A warm chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Thank God we’re back to this.”

“You’re home!” I stretch onto my toes to ruffle his perfectly styled hair. “You told me you’d be too busy this summer.”

His smirk is all-knowing. “Then Ma called and said you’ve been down in the dumps. Had to make an exception for my little sis.”

A flash of annoyance sweeps over me. “Mom! Can’t you and Dad keep some things to yourself?”

“Sorry, angel,” she murmurs, a soft, almost guilty smile playing on her lips. “I thought we might need some backup.”

---