by Eva Ashwood
“She’s gotta have someone helping her.” I shrug. “Just like Detective Walton said. My money is on either someone at the rehab place, or someone on campus. Not that those two options narrow it down a ton. That still leaves hundreds of people it could be.”
“I’ll call Walton later today.” Trent looks around the table as Reese brings over the eggs, meeting all of our eyes. “He said he wanted our help bringing Leslie down? Well, I’m all in.” He glances my way. “She texted you. She called me. She fucked with our bank accounts and hacked your email. Odds are good she’ll pull more shit like this. And if we can’t stop her yet, at least we can use what she’s doing to our advantage.”
My stomach twists. “What do you mean?”
West and Trent share a look, and I have a feeling that single glance just communicated an entire paragraph worth of words. They’ve always thought alike, and despite the bruises each of them are sporting today, they’re completely in sync with each other.
“She’s probably been hacking for a long time, especially to get this good at it,” West says, picking up the thread of Trent’s thought. “But she’s never gotten caught. That detective has suspicions that other hacking jobs might be related to her, but he has no proof. She’s smart. She’s strategic.”
“Or at least she was,” Trent adds. “Until it became personal. Before, her hacks were about getting money or furthering her own interests somehow. Now? Now she just wants to make the four of us pay. This is about emotions, about revenge. Those things make people stupid and unreasonable.” He presses his lips together, shaking his head slightly. “Believe me, I know.”
I reach across the table and rest my hand over his, squeezing gently, and he meets my gaze with haunted eyes.
It’s strange. I spent so long waiting for him to apologize, to feel guilty for what he did to me—but now that he does, it’s painful to witness. I wonder if he’ll ever forgive himself, although considering how long he held a grudge against me, I doubt he’ll be any easier on himself.
West takes in the two of us, but instead of the rage and jealousy I might’ve expected to see on his face even a day ago, there’s something warm in his expression. Letting Trent and I have our moment, he picks up where his friend left off again.
“That’s what gives us an advantage here. Leslie’s better at hacking than all of us put together; she just is. But if we can draw her out, if we can stick together and withstand the bullshit she throws at us, she’ll make a mistake. And that’s when we’ll fucking end this.”
“Yeah.” Reese grins. “And there’s the added benefit that the four of us sticking together and presenting a united front will only piss her off more. That’s gotta be why she called you, Trent. Even after everything, when we’ve all made it perfectly clear we’re on Emma’s side, it seems like Leslie’s still hoping one or all of us will go running back to her.”
Trent bares his teeth in something that looks halfway between a grin and a snarl. His hand flips over beneath mine, our palms pressing together as his fingers wrap around mine.
“She can do her worst. That’ll never fucking happen.”
Unfortunately, Leslie’s “worst” is pretty fucking bad.
The next couple of weeks are a strange blend of bliss and torture.
This thing between the Icons and me is real, and I feel it more and more every day. Reese is no longer sleeping on the couch. He’s back in his bedroom, or occasionally in one of the other guys’ rooms if we all end up passing out in the same bed.
The dynamics are fluid as we all find our way through this new relationship that’s forming between the four of us. But one thing that’s noticeably absent is the aura of heavy tension that seemed to choke the house before.
It’s just… gone.
The men still get growly and possessive from time to time, particularly West and Trent, but it’s never got the same level of rage behind it that it used to. Besides, I’ve found a pretty effective way of dealing with their possessiveness—one that usually ends with all of us naked, sweaty, and exhausted.
It’s amazing.
Incredible.
Better than I ever dreamed it could be.
But on the flip side of that is Leslie. As if she somehow knows how happy my life has become—hell, she probably does know, considering I wouldn’t put it past her to keep tabs on us somehow—she’s ramped up her campaign against us big-time.
She gets my phone service cut off, hacks into my Netflix account, and uses my last working credit card to go on a shopping spree that takes me hours to undo.
Then she sets in on our social media accounts. Footage of Trent that I hoped would never see the light of day again pops up on his feeds, and doctored footage of the rest of us shows up as well. My dad and Claire, thank God, aren’t big enough into social media to get wind of most of this, although they know something is still going on.
And it ends up being a stroke of luck that I started my interview at Sterling Minor by having to explain all about getting hacked and having my online presence fucked with. Devon already knows about it, so when insane things show up online, he just asks me how I’m doing instead of firing me on the spot.
It helps that Reese is dealing with the same shit. Our stories corroborate each other, so nobody at work thinks we’re lying or making this up.
Because he has class most days, I don’t see him at work often, which makes me a little sad. There’s been so much going on that I haven’t really had time to miss being in school, but I do. I’ve stopped dwelling on why I’m no longer a student at Clearwater, but now I need to start thinking about my next steps—where else I might apply, how I’ll pay for it, all of that.
In the meantime, the Icons and I keep watching and waiting, taking each attack on our online presence as a chance to look for any breadcrumbs Leslie might’ve left behind.
Trent was right. She’s getting aggressive and sloppy, and if she’s doing all this from the facility where she’s supposed to be getting help, it’s only a matter of time before she gets caught.
At least, I fucking hope so.
I press my fingertips to my temples as I stare at the latest monstrosity on my newsfeed. Leslie got into my Facebook account and sent a video loaded with a virus in a mass private message to nearly half my friends. Most of them are smart enough not to open suspicious links, but because it came from me, a few of them clicked on it.
What was supposed to be my lunch hour at work is now going to be spent taking care of this bullshit.
Great.
As I start sorting through all the friends the message got sent to, my brows pinch together.
Huh. That’s interesting.
I think I’m starting to see a pattern in who it got sent to, but until I go through the whole list, I won’t know for sure. My hand on the mouse moves a little faster, eager to see if my hunch turns into anything useful.
My phone buzzes on the desk next to me, and I glance down at the screen. It’s Dad. I’ve still got twenty minutes on my lunch break, and there’s no way I’ll have time to go out and grab food anyway, so I push back from the desk and scoop up my phone, heading out into the hall outside the offices before swiping the screen to answer.
“Dad?”
“Hey, Ems.” I can hear the smile in his voice, although it can’t quite mask the concern that lingers there too. “How are you?”
I smile. That’s how he starts every conversation these days, and although I hate that he worries about me, I love that he cares. I love that things are better enough between us that he’s able to call and check up on me, and I can actually tell him what’s going on. There are still things from the past he should probably hear about, but with how well things have been going between me and the Icons, I don’t want to risk ruining that.
Not now.
Not with everything else going on.
“Not too bad,” I say with a grin. My gaze flicks back toward the office where my computer sits, and I roll my eyes. “Same old, same old.”
“Are y
ou sure there’s nothing I can do?” he asks for about the millionth time.
I let out a soft laugh, but my voice is gentle when I speak. “The cops can barely do anything, so I don’t think there’s much you could do that they couldn’t. But you care, and that helps a lot. More than you know.”
“Always, sweetheart. And if you ever do need anything, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
“I will. Thanks, Dad. But I’m doing okay. I’ve got people on my side.”
There’s a small beat of silence, then he chuckles. “Oh, I know. And I’m glad, Ems.”
A flush creeps up my cheeks. I don’t think he knows exactly what’s going on with me, West, Reese, and Trent. But he definitely knows we’re close. He probably assumes I’m dating one of them. That’s another conversation we’ll have to have soon if things keep going the way they’re going.
“Anyway, I actually called because I wanted to talk to you about something,” Dad goes on. “I have some news that—well, I hope you’ll think it’s good news. I’m a little nervous, actually.”
He gives a self-deprecating laugh, and I straighten a little, holding the phone closer to my ear. “Why? What is it?”
“Well…” He clears his throat, then forges ahead. “Claire and I are engaged. I proposed last night, and she said yes.”
My jaw drops so low it’s a miracle it doesn’t hit the floor. I step into a stairwell so I can speak at a louder volume without disturbing anyone in the office or hallway.
“What? Really? Dad, are you serious?”
“Yes. We’re getting married.”
“Oh my God, that’s incredible!”
“You think so?” I can hear the relief in his voice, and it makes tears sting the backs of my eyes. He really was nervous about this, I can tell.
“Of course I think so,” I gush. “I could tell how much you guys cared about each other. I just… I thought you were broken up. Or taking a break, I mean.”
“We were.” He chuckles. “Things were a little rough there for a while, what with… well, everything. But I had a talk with Trent, actually, a few weeks ago, and it changed my perspective on a few things. I realized I hadn’t given Claire a fair shot to be a part of my life, messiness and all. But that’s all I really want—to have her in my life and be a part of hers. Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s not perfect. So when we got back together, I decided it would be stupid to waste any more time. I knew what I wanted, and I didn’t want to wait any longer.”
The tears burning my eyes slip out over my lower lids, and I let out a ragged breath. His words hit me right in the chest, but not as much as the tone of his voice.
He sounds so happy.
Happier than I’ve heard him sound in years.
He deserves every bit of this, and so does Claire. They’ve both been through a lot, and even though I didn’t know they were together for most of these past couple years, now that I have the full picture, his proposal does seem like it’s right on time.
They love each other, and I’m so thrilled for both of them.
“Congratulations, Dad. This is the best news I’ve heard all day. You guys are great for each other, I’m so happy for you.”
I’m smiling through my happy tears, and my lips stretch wider as Dad tells me the story of how he got down on one knee and popped the question.
It’s only as we say our goodbyes and hang up a while later that a new thought pops into my mind, stealing the grin from my lips.
Does Trent know yet?
What will this mean for us?
17
Trent
“That’s fucking amazing, Mom. I knew things would work out for the two of you.”
“Oh, like you didn’t have anything to do with it?” My mom chuckles. She sounds almost giddy, same as she did when she called twenty minutes ago to tell me the news—she and Paul are getting hitched. “You don’t think he told me about your little visit to his office? I have to say, of all the people who I ever thought would play matchmaker in my life, my son was never one of them.”
“I didn’t do anything.” I brush off her words with a shake of my head, even though she can’t see me. “We talked for a few minutes, and it wasn’t even about you. It was about Emma.”
“Sure. Sure, Trent.” The tone of her voice makes it clear she doesn’t believe me, but she’s willing to go along with whatever lie I want to tell. “Well, whatever you talked about, I’m glad you did. I’m so happy. I can’t get over it. And this ring!”
“I can’t wait to see it, Mom,” I tell her with an indulgent grin. “I’m sure it’s beautiful.”
“It is,” she gushes. “It’s nothing too extravagant. We’re old folks, we don’t need all of that. But it’s gorgeous, and it’s just so me. He knows me. He gets me. And that’s the best part.”
Yeah. It is.
There was a time when I wouldn’t really have understood what she was saying. But now, I get it completely.
I think on some level I’ve been in love with Emma Holloway since the first fucking day I met her. But the way I feel about her now? It’s so far beyond that it’s not even in the same dimension. I know her. She knows me. We’ve seen each other at our absolute worsts, and yet somehow, through it all, we came back to each other.
If I ever proposed to her, I would know exactly what kind of ring to get. It wouldn’t even be a question. Because I know her, inside and out.
Of course, I have no idea where marriage stands in our future. This thing we’re doing isn’t exactly conventional, so maybe certain things will never be in the cards for us.
“Anyway,” Mom continues, breaking into my wandering thoughts. “I just wanted to let you know the big news. I would’ve called earlier, but I was sure you were in class.”
“Yeah, I was. I just got home, actually.”
“Well, I’ll let you go. But I’m so glad you approve, honey. I know it was a bit of a rocky start between you two, but he makes me deliriously happy. And I want my two best guys to get along.”
“We do, Mom. We will.”
An all-too-familiar pang of guilt squeezes my chest at the memory of what a fucking asshole I was the night she and Paul took me and Emma out to tell us about their relationship. They meant for it to be a fun, pleasant dinner, but as soon as I realized Paul was the guy my mom had been seeing, I made it my mission to torpedo the entire evening. Did a pretty damn good job of it too.
“Thank you,” Mom says softly. “That means a lot to me.”
“Of course.” I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. “I just want what’s best for you. Always.”
That part, at least, is true and has always been true. It’s just that I used to have a severely fucked up concept of what was best for my mom. For years, I thought she would’ve been better off if she’d stayed with my dad. It was only my recent trip to visit him in San Diego that helped me see that Mom is honestly much better off without him in her life.
Paul cares about her. He’d move mountains for her without a word of complaint.
I don’t think my dad was ever like that, and certainly not in any recent memory.
“I love you, Trent. Come by for dinner sometime soon, will you? I know you’ve been so busy dealing with all of that hacking nonsense, but that only means you need a night of normalcy and a good, homemade potpie even more.”
A chuckle escapes me, but she’s not wrong. “I will. Love you too.”
I hang up and toss the phone down on my nightstand. West and Reese are home, but Emma’s still at work. She should be arriving any minute now, and I wonder if she’s heard the news too.
As if I’ve called her up by my thoughts, I hear the door open a half-second later.
Emma.
Pivoting on my heel, I head toward my bedroom door. It only takes me a few strides to reach it, but the moment I pull the door open, I stop in my tracks.
Emma must’ve been walking even faster than I was, because she’s already outside my door. Her hand is raised like sh
e was about to knock, and there’s an expression on her face that I can’t quite read.
I may not be able to read it, but I know I don’t like it.
It’s pinched, tense, closed-off.
Like she’s scared.
My teeth grind together, and before she can speak, I grab her wrist and yank her into the room. The door closes behind her, and a second later, I’ve got her up against it, her back pressed tightly to the wood as my lips devour hers in a bruising kiss.
My leg slides between hers, grinding up against her so that her pussy rides my thigh, and her response is immediate. She whimpers breathlessly, her hands latching on to my arms for stability as she gets swept up in the kiss.
The tension I saw in her before slowly melts out of her as her body molds to mine, her hips undulating against me with unconscious little movements.
Finally, I break the kiss, reluctantly pulling my mouth away from hers. My hand reaches up to clasp her chin, fingers and thumb splaying across her jaw and part of her neck.
“What’s that look for?” I growl.
The tight expression is gone from her face, replaced by something dazed and pliant, but I know she understands what I’m talking about.
She swallows. I’m holding her chin so tightly that I can feel the play of muscles underneath my fingertips as she does. Then her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips, her eyelashes fluttering as she gathers her thoughts.
I’m already hard from our kiss, from grinding against her and feeling the heat of her pussy against my thigh. But that small glimpse of her tongue darting out, the gesture innocent and sinful at the same time, makes my cock throb, aching to bury itself inside her.
“I… I got a call from my dad at work today,” she whispers. “He told me—”
“—he and my mom are getting married.”
I finish the sentence for her, and her gorgeous brown eyes flare wide in surprise.
“You knew? Then why did you—”
Using my grip on her chin, I tilt her head up a little, pressing my lips hard against hers. I know what she’s going to ask. She’s going to ask why I kissed her the way I just did if I knew our parents are engaged to be married. Why I’m not angry at her instead.