Page 130 of The Trade

Jade’s perchedon the edge of my bed, her bright eyes tracking my movements as I dart around the room, hastily pulling together the last pieces of my uniform.

The morning has been a fucking whirlwind, to say the least. Between our over-friendly Uber ride, the frenetic cross-country flight, and the white-knuckle speed I hit on the drive back in my truck, we’ve been flirting with the constraints of time.

“Anything I can do to help?” Jade’s voice, soft and gentle, weaves through the chaos.

“No, thanks, babe.” My words are clipped, lost in the rush as I toss my well-worn cleats, a couple of pairs of socks, and a crisp towel into my duffel bag. “I’m ready to go now.”

“Could you drop me off at the Vault on your way to practice?” she asks. “It should only take an extra second.”

Hoisting the bag over one shoulder, I pause to focus on her. “Wait, why?”

“I thought I’d grab a bite to eat.” A simple shrug lifts her shoulders. “Besides, it’s not like I can go back to my apartment right now.”

As if I would’ve entertained that idea in the first place. She’s already here—with me—exactly where she belongs. And fortunately, the girls are also subletting their place for the summer.

Shannon’s tied up working at Sunshine Ranch, the camp where she first met Jade. She was offered a full-time counselor position this year, complete with a scholarship for her kid brother and on-site housing.

Of course, Jade was always planning on staying with her folks back in Washington. So, they’d found Emmy, a fellow cheerleader, to occupy their apartment for the next couple of months. Mica volunteered to cover their rent, just on the off chance they wanted to leave the place vacant, but Jade wouldn’t allow it.

That woman has too much pride because Mica Jennings—one of the highest-paid cornerbacks in the NFL—could’ve easily covered that shit. Five thousand dollars of summer rent is basically equivalent to fifty bucks for that man.

“I thought you’d just stay here,” I tell her, my voice soft.

“You want me to stay here while you’re gone?”

“Of course I do.” I tug at my brow, surprised at her question. “But if you’re hungry, I can always order you something before I head out.”

She tilts her head. “Why?”

“I just like knowing that you’ll be here waiting for me,” I say. “In my house, preferably in my bed.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, you could even take your clothes off if you wanted.”

Her eye roll is punctuated by sweet, soft laughter. “Wow, so generous.”

“I’m serious, though.” Bending down, I plant a soft kiss on her forehead. “Stay here while I’m gone?”

“Your wish is my command.”

A chuckle breaks free. “I gotta say, I like the sound of that.”

“Get outta here, you perv.” Her playful shove sends me off with a grin. “You’re gonna be late for practice.”

She shifts from the edge of my bed toward the middle, stretching her legs out across my mattress. I linger in the doorway, just for a minute or two, unable to take my eyes off her.

She’s beautiful. She’s perfect. And now, she’s all mine.

“I love you,” I murmur, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“And I love you.”

Ah, there it is. Now I can finally tear myself away and head off to practice. The familiar aching in my chest, the one I’ve barely tolerated over the past month, has officially settled.

* * *

The momentI touch down on the practice field, I spot the defensive team huddled together, my housemates lingering among them. When they see me headed their way, their faces flush with relief. I know they must’ve been sweating my absence—ill-prepared to cover my back and invent some half-assed excuse for Coach.

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