Page 124 of The Trade

“It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“Maybe.” I nervously twist a curl between my fingers. “But I’m not even going to see him again until September.”

He rubs the scruff on his chin. “If you want to work things out, you don’t have to wait.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to wait until September,” he clarifies. “You can fly back to Dayton next weekend.”

“Ace, I don’t—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” He places a heavy hand on my shoulder, gaze steady and serious. “I know what you’re about to say—that you don’t have money to spend on a ticket. But you already know what’s mine is yours.”

“You’ll pay for my flight to go visit him?” I choke out, shocked by the suggestion. “My ex-boyfriend?”

“If it makes you happy, I’ll pay for whatever you want. And I know West probably royally screwed things up, but you forgave him. That’s enough for me to know he’s a good guy. Besides, I kinda liked the kid.”

“Are you still trying to suck up to me ’cause you slept with Shan?”

“Jesus, Lili,” he chokes out, clearing his throat before asking, “Is it working?”

Laughter bubbles up from inside me. “Yeah, it’s working.”

“So, what do you think?” he asks, nudging me slightly. “You heading back to Dayton for the weekend?”

The laughter dies down, and I’m left with a comforting silence. My thoughts clear as I mull over his words. “Yeah.” I finally nod. “Yeah, I am.”

It feels like an internal barrier just crumbled down. A decision made not out of fear but out of a desire for something more, something real. I’m tired of thinking about what makes the most sense on paper. I’m tired of thinking about what’s rational and logical.

Because who wants a relationship based on cold, calculating logic? That’s not what drew me to West in the first place. That’s certainly not what kept me up for the last twelve nights, longing for the comfort of his voice, waiting and wishing to hear from him again.

So, it’s time I take matters into my own hands now.

37

WEST

Two weeks have passedsince Jade took off in the dead of night, leaving me in a perpetual state of confusion.

At first, the sting was unbearable. Her abrupt departure was a reminder of how quickly happiness could be torn away. Together, we made a hasty decision, one driven by passion and longing, and then ... she was fucking gone.

Couldn’t bear the aftermath. Couldn’t bear to face me in the morning.

Her words still echo in my mind, a bitter fucking lullaby: “I forgive you, and I’ll miss you.” It seemed so real, so sincere. And despite her resolution, her actions certainly made it seem like she wanted me, too.

But she warned me that first night at Lucky’s when I kissed her in the hall. She might have craved my touch, my warmth, but that was it. Now, the sadness has been replaced by a hollow emptiness, a numbness that’s more comforting than the continuous ache.

Jade’s made it clear she wants me to focus on training this summer, and so I’ve been pouring every bit of my energy into it. The weight room has become my refuge, the field my battleground.

Today’s practice ends with running skill patterns, again. By the time I’m done with the fifth set, which ends in another grueling forty-yard run, I’m running on fumes. Two of our wide receivers—and my least favorite assholes—are running their patterns alongside me.

“West, your girl still around this summer?” Miller’s voice slices through the thick, humid air. His breathing is ragged. “We didn’t get a chance to finish our last conversation.”

My teeth grind together at his audacity. “That’s real fucking funny, man.”

“Yeah.” McNair lets out a laugh that sounds more like a pig’s grunt. “Just let us know when you’re done with her, ’kay?”

My blood boils. “The hell did you just say?”

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