Page 63 of The Trade

I narrow my gaze, playfully swatting him. “You’re insufferable.”

His chuckle rings through the room. “But you missed me.”

“Yeah, of course.”

We sink onto the couch, taking a moment to simply sit in the familiarity of each other’s company. His towering frame fits effortlessly into the space, his six-foot-five presence always commanding, always larger than life. Yet, in my apartment, he seems to blend in seamlessly.

“I’m happy I could swing by,” he says. “I needed a weekend full of sibling bonding.”

The prospect makes me chew on my lip, the tendrils of anxiety curling in my stomach. “Actually, about that ... I recently started seeing someone.”

“Okay, and?”

“I thought it’d be nice for you two to meet,” I say, attempting to keep the apprehension from my voice.

He grunts, clearly unenthusiastic. “Why?”

“Because I genuinely like him. He’s cool, and I have a hunch that you two would click.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“No, seriously. You and West share a lot of similarities.”

“Mhmm,” he drawls, voice dripping with skepticism. “I’m sure I have a ton in common with the asshole who’s dating my sister.”

“He’s not an asshole,” I counter defensively, then mumble under my breath, “At least, not all the time.” And then louder, “He’s a running back for Dayton.”

His mocking expression slips, giving way to a more serious demeanor. “Lilianna, you’re telling me your jock boyfriend wants to meet me? What a shocker.”

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm,” I snap, my fingers kneading the fabric of my jeans. “I know what you’re thinking ... but he wasn’t aware we were related before we got together.”

His response is a slow, contemplative drag of his hand over his face. “Alright, I’ll reserve judgment if that’s what you want.”

“I want you to be supportive. He’s coming to dinner with us tomorrow.”

“Fine, I’ll try.” He heaves a heavy sigh. “You know I only want the best for you, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” I say, my gaze softening. “But I also wish that—”

The sound of our front door rattling stops me midsentence. It swings open, and Shannon steps inside. There’s a flash of fiery red hair that instantly draws my brother’s attention. And then, there’s her bare, freckled thighs peeking out from beneath her cheerleading uniform, the emerald green of the fabric a stark contrast to her pale skin.

As always, she manages to look put together and full of life.

“Hi,” she greets us with a wave, her attention shifting to Mica. “I’m Shannon. You must be Jade’s brother.”

Mica rises from the couch, a fluid movement that contrasts sharply with his bulky frame. He strides over to Shannon, greets her with a firm handshake, and says, “Mica,” his voice a shade deeper than it was earlier.

It’s his “charming stranger” tone, one I’ve seen him use too many times to count.

At that, I jump to my feet and join them, casting a quick, pointed look at my brother, who answers it with a knowing smirk. “Shannon, you free tomorrow night?” he asks, brushing off my silent warning. “We’d love for you to join us for dinner.”

I clamp my mouth shut, jaw clenched as I wait for her response.

“Sure!” Her tone is light and cheerful, unaware of the tension filling my body.

“Great.” Mica grins, tossing her an unmistakable wink. A very deliberate, very infuriating wink.

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