The Trade (Coastal Rivals Book 1)
The Trade: Chapter 30

I didn’t sleep with Garrett last night, nor would I ever.

The truth settles heavily in the vacant space of my mind, filling the silence like the echoes of a ghost. Restless and uneasy, I spent the night tossing and turning on his pull-out couch, in an apartment tainted with the lingering scent of his partner’s cologne and the remnants of takeout containers.

So yeah, I let West think that something more happened between Garrett and me. I neither confirmed nor denied his assumptions because, truthfully, it’s none of his damn business. And yet, despite my resolve, I can’t deny the pang of regret that slices through me at the sight of his shocked expression, the hurt in his eyes.

I’m not intentionally trying to hurt him, not in a vindictive or spiteful sort of way. It’s just that West no longer has the right to know certain things—when, where, and with whom I decide to have sex. Not that I can even fathom being with anyone else in the foreseeable future.

Moving on from West is going to be torture, especially because deep down, I know he still wants me, desires me in every way. And he does seem genuinely remorseful for what he’s done.

But it doesn’t change the harsh reality. West is a liar, a user, a manipulator. I need space from him, space to heal and breathe again. If only that space could also distance me from my roommate and my brother, the tangled web of their involvement.

In a twisted way, though, I understand that they’re the crutch I’ll need to lean on as I navigate through this chapter.

Mica royally fucked up, thinking with his dick instead of his head or his heart. But tomorrow morning, he’ll be boarding a flight and leaving town, so today is our chance to mend the fences, to rebuild the trust that was shattered. That’s the only reason I agreed to meet up with him for dinner.

“Hey!” Mica practically leaps up from his booth, his arms outstretched. I slide into the opposite seat, my body reflexively pulling away from his attempt at a comforting hug.

“Hi” is all I manage to muster.

His apology is quick, earnest. “I’m a dipshit and an asshole. What can I do to fix this?”

I sigh, my fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against my thigh. “Why’d you have to go there? Especially when I begged you not to?”

“I know I fucked up. The problem is . . . I wasn’t even making a conscious decision to ignore your wishes. I’m not trying to make excuses, but it just fucking happened.”

“How does that just happen? You tripped and fell into her bed?”

“That’s not what I mean. Look, there was some . . . tension the first time I came to visit you. I know you didn’t see it, but you left us alone together a handful of times.”

“What?” I scoff incredulously. “So, during those five or ten minutes, you just had to fight the urge to jump each other’s bones? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Not exactly.” His answer is vague, convoluted. “I don’t know, sis. Have you ever felt this strong attraction to someone? Like fuck, you don’t know where it comes from, but . . . for some reason, you just want that person.”

My body reacts before I can stop it, a nervous shift in my seat at his question. “Uh—”

But he’s quick to backpedal, his face crumpling. “Fuck, wait. Please don’t answer that.”

“So, you’re saying you want to . . . be with Shan?”

“No.” He adamantly shakes his head. “It was an intense physical attraction, but I never should have acted on it. Not when I knew it could affect our relationship.”

“But you did it anyway.”

“Yeah, I did,” he concedes. “It was a mistake. I won’t make the same one twice.”

“Tell me that you didn’t make any promises to Shan. If you hurt her, I’m not forgiving you so easily.”

He shakes his head, a snort escaping him. “I didn’t make any promises. Actually, there wasn’t much . . . talking between us at all.”

“Oh, ew.” The thought of them together elicits another eye roll. “You know, I’m still really mad at you.”

“I know,” he says simply. “And Lil, I’m sorry about the rent comment. That was uncalled for.”

“Yeah, it was. But I probably shouldn’t have screamed in your face like that either.”

He shrugs as if it was nothing. “I deserved it.”

While his comment truly hurt my feelings, I suppose I could’ve held my tongue. We have a few unspoken rules between us, one of them being to never swear at each other or resort to hurtful phrases like “fuck you” and “I hate you.”

But last night, Mica seemed to believe that breaking that rule was warranted, so I’ll let it slide this time.

“True.” I smirk, turning to the menu. “Just so you know, I’m ordering two dinners tonight. Maybe a lobster appetizer. Oh, and dessert. I’m definitely getting dessert.”

He chuckles, relief washing over his face. “Get whatever you want. I doubt two dinners make up for what I did.”

“Damn right, it doesn’t,” I confirm with a harsh laugh. “You’re gonna be groveling for years, pal. Years.”

“If that’s what it takes.”

As Mica’s plane takes off, cool relief washes over me. Although we didn’t part on an outright positive note, things are decidedly better than where we started.

Mica’s my brother, my partner-in-crime, my confidant, and I love him fiercely. But that doesn’t erase the fact that he betrayed me. While love might help pave a path to forgiveness, it isn’t an instant cure for the raw wounds he inflicted.

I need time. Time to mend, to regain balance, to process.

And now, Shannon is another thorny issue I need to address. I told her that I don’t blame her for falling into Mica’s well-laid trap. After all, he’s a football superstar in his prime, effortlessly charming, and unfairly handsome. How could I hold that against her?

But in a way, I still do. There’s a simmering resentment there, an unpleasant undercurrent to the hurt. She should’ve known better. We’re roommates, close friends. She should’ve realized that getting involved with my brother crosses an invisible line for me. It wasn’t just about them—it was about the trust we had, the mutual respect. And now, that’s been irrevocably shattered, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

It seems that everyone is hell-bent on crossing my boundaries, on spinning my life into chaos. The painful reminders are everywhere, forcing me to constantly reevaluate my relationships—with my brother, with Shannon, and especially with West.

Still, I have my professional duties to fulfill. My unfinished article on the banquet demands attention, and thanks to my impulsive midnight chat with Garrett, I’ve secured coverage of all of next season’s football games. It should be thrilling, but instead, it holds the promise of constant, painful reminders of West’s betrayal.

To make things easier on everyone, I’ve decided to conduct only two interviews about the banquet. One with Noah Elliot, the starting quarterback, and the other with Vance Donahue, the other mastermind behind the event. I simply can’t bring myself to stomach an interview with Cam or anyone else from the football team. But life and, more importantly, my job have to go on.

Over the following week and a half, I skillfully navigate around any potential confrontations with Shannon or West. I exchange the library for the newsroom, immersing myself in my assignments.

Garrett and I work in harmony, laboring long hours to devise a fairer, more balanced system. The effort is significant, but he willingly agrees to all my suggestions as long as I spearhead the changes.

As a team, Garrett and I click in a way that’s undeniable. We complement each other’s strengths and work seamlessly together. A part of me can’t help but wonder what could’ve been if we had found this rhythm years ago. But dwelling on what-ifs won’t change the present circumstances.

One morning, after another late-night working session, I decide to break away from the routine and pick up some coffee. It’s high time I return the favor to Garrett for all the in-office lattes he’s made for me.

Stepping into the bustling café, I join the line, ready to place our orders.

As I wait, the distinct sound of a throat clearing behind me sends a shiver down my spine. It’s a sound I know all too well. I turn around slowly, my heart pounding a frenzied beat against my ribs.

Of course, it’s West. A mix of emotions courses through me—fear, longing, resentment—all jumbled into a chaotic mess. His presence catches me off guard, reopening a wound that I’m trying desperately to heal.

He’s breathtaking, as always, with his dark, tousled hair and deep caramel eyes. But upon closer inspection, there’s an unmistakable hint of exhaustion etched into his features—dark circles under his eyes and a furrow to his brow. He looks worn, fragmented, and still, somehow, absolutely captivating.

The silence stretches on until it’s West who breaks it. His murmured “Hey” falls between us, landing like honey on my bruised heart.

“Hi,” I murmur.

A slight twitch of his lips produces a smile that’s too gentle, too sweet. “I haven’t seen you at the library in a while.”

“Yeah,” I breathe out. “I’ve been studying in the newsroom.”

His expression shifts. There’s an unspoken grief in his eyes, a flicker of regret as he asks, “Spending all your time with Garrett these days?”

I take a step back, creating some space between us. “Let’s not go there,”

His gaze drops, and he audibly swallows. “Right. Of course.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. This encounter has stirred up emotions I thought I had buried. I need to regain control of the situation before it spirals out of hand. “Alright,” I say, my tone guarded. “Well, this has been fun, but I’ve got to—”

“Can I just ask you one question?” he cuts me off, a nervous quirk in his brow.

“What?”

“Does he make you feel the way that I did?” he asks, voice low, an uncertain tone I’ve never heard from West before.

My heart fractures, splintering into the pieces I hastily patched together. “You mean used, lied to, and manipulated? No, I can’t say that he does.”

A flicker of sadness passes across his face, and the tiny flame in his eyes goes out. “Okay,” he murmurs softly. “I’m glad you’re happy, then.”

And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, my heart heavy with a bittersweet ache.

You know what? Fuck you, West. Because I’m not happy. Not without you.

Why did he have to go and ruin everything we had? Why did he have to betray my trust? For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to believe that it was possible to have everything I ever wanted in a relationship.

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.

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