Who Falls Hardest (Clearwater University Book 3)

by Eva Ashwood

  It strays a little from the original assignment we were given, but we’re banking on piquing Professor Sykes’ curiosity.

  This project is about us. It’s essentially a study in revenge and retribution, in how small groups come together and fall apart, and why. It’s a study in how modern technology has impacted the way people with a vendetta can act on their anger, and about how quickly ‘tit-for-tat’ can spiral out of control.

  It’s a confession.

  It’s an apology.

  It’s a plea for a second chance.

  “We all failed your class last semester,” West begins.

  “Yes.” Professor Sykes nods. “I remember.”

  “We never turned in our final project.” Trent takes the binder from West and holds it out. “Not because we didn’t do it—but because I destroyed it instead of delivering it to you like I was supposed to.”

  That takes Sykes by surprise. He jerks his head back a little, his gaze flashing over all four of us as if he’s seeing us in a slightly new light. Whether that light is good or bad, I’m not sure. But even if it’s bad, we can’t stop now.

  “If you’re wondering why I’d do something so stupid and self-sabotaging,” Trent continues ruefully, gesturing to the binder as Professor Sykes takes it and opens it. “It’s all in there.”

  “Hmm.”

  Sykes doesn’t say more than that for a long time. He flips through the pages of the binder, his brows rising and falling as he reads everything we’ve written. I can tell he’s engrossed, taken in by the story that’s woven through the report.

  For several long minutes, we all just stand there watching him. Finally, he folds his arms on the desk in front of him and looks up, cocking his head to the side.

  “This is very interesting. And very well done. Worth full marks, certainly.”

  I want to exhale a relieved breath, but I don’t. Because I know he’s not done.

  “But,” he adds. “It’s over a month late. What do you want me to do with it?”

  “We want you to accept it. To speak to the school administrators on our behalf and accept our final project retroactively,” Trent says. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he adds, “Not for me. I’ll take the ‘F’ on my transcript. I earned it.” His gaze moves to me, his light blue eyes burning intensely. “But for her. She didn’t earn it, and she didn’t deserve it. She put in the work, and I was the one who wrecked that for her.”

  “I see.” Professor Sykes rubs a hand over his chin, turning to Reese and West. “And for you two? What do you want?”

  “I want her back in school,” Reese says immediately, tilting his head toward me. “I don’t care about my own grade.”

  “Same.” West’s voice is firm. “A ‘fail’ didn’t do more than knock our GPAs down a bit. It got Emma kicked out of Clearwater. And that’s not fucking fair.”

  I wince at the f-bomb he just dropped, but Sykes doesn’t even seem to notice. Still looking thoughtful, he squints slightly. “And you are aware that life isn’t fair, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” West says, and the heavy bluntness in his voice makes me think of his father, and the shit West had to go through growing up. Of how well acquainted he is with the fact that life isn’t fair.

  He could play that card right now. Try to garner sympathy from Professor Sykes. But instead, he leaves his answer at just the one word, keeping his gaze fixed on the older man before us.

  Sykes nods thoughtfully, glancing back down at the thick binder before him. He flips through the pages again, making little noises in the back of his throat as he reads.

  Oh fuck, I can’t take this. The anticipation is killing me.

  I reach out and grab Reese and Trent’s hands, gripping them tightly like I’m waiting for a firing squad to unleash a volley of bullets at me. I’d made my peace with no longer being a student at Clearwater, with moving forward in a different direction with my life. But once Trent and the others planted the seed of the idea in my head, it took root—and as I stand before Professor Sykes, it strikes me just how badly I want this.

  We’ve put in so much work. We’ve come so fucking far.

  Please. Please. Not just for me, but for them too.

  I still see that haunted look on Trent’s face sometimes. And although I’ve reassured him that the past is in the past, and that there are worse things that could’ve happened than losing my scholarship to CU, I know how much he wants to make things right.

  Professor Sykes looks up again, and his keen gaze falls to my hands enfolded in Reese and Trent’s. He takes in all four of us again, and then finally he nods.

  “You’ve modified the assignment to fit your own aims,” he comments. “But I can’t deny you did well with it. And the fact that after everything you’ve been through, you’re still standing here together—well, that’s something worth rewarding, I think. Besides, I have tenure. So I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

  I almost choke on my tongue at his last words, realizing that maybe it was stupid of me to have worried about West cursing in front of our professor. Sykes obviously has a saltier side to him than he usually revealed in class.

  Honestly, it makes me like him more.

  “Yeah, alright.” The gray-haired man chuckles. “I’ll agree to retroactively give you an ‘A.’ But you’ll still have to convince the admins to let you back in.” He rolls his eyes. “In theory, if your admission was contingent on grades, then this should do it. But they’re a bunch of stuffy assholes over there, so be prepared to argue your case.”

  “We will, Professor,” I say quickly, excitement humming through my veins. “We promise.”

  I have no doubt he’s right, and I know it’s not quite over yet, but that doesn’t stop the hope from blooming in my chest.

  This really might work after all.

  And if it does, I am so signing up for Professor Sykes’ next class.

  22

  Emma

  Two days later, we have a meeting with Dean Philips and a few other admins.

  And it turns out Professor Sykes downplayed his clout at this place quite a bit. Not only does he get to do whatever he wants because he’s tenured, he’s actually a very respected and prized professor on the school’s staff.

  And although I have a feeling he’d deny it up and down if I ever pressed him on it, I think the old man went to bat for us.

  The meeting isn’t exactly easy or pleasant, but about halfway through it, I start to realize that the dean is just going through the motions of being a hard-ass—making sure we know that this kind of behavior won’t be tolerated, and that I’m expected to keep my grades up from here on out. That this is my last Hail Mary pass, and if I blow it this time, there won’t be a single thing I can do to reverse their decision.

  I sit there and listen quietly and patiently, trying to keep a serious expression on my face and not grin like an idiot.

  Because I know their decision has been made.

  They’re going to let me back in.

  “Of course, you won’t be able to start until next fall,” Dean Philips tells me, tapping his pen against the desk in his office. “Or you could take some summer classes to try to catch up, but that’ll be dependent on how hard you want to work and what classes you’re looking to take. It’s too late in the semester for us to get you into any classes now—you’ll have missed too much work.”

  “That’s okay,” I agree quickly. I can feel the three Icons’ gazes on me, and I shoot a glance at them, nodding to let them know I’m totally fine with this. “I actually just started working a job I really like, so this will let me get my feet under me a little more before I start trying to juggle work and school.”

  “Alright. As long as you don’t let your job interfere with your classwork.”

  “It won’t.”

  The dean dips his head in a nod. He looks like he’s ready to get this meeting over with, and I wonder if he fully grasps how one hour out of his busy day has changed the course of my life. For him, it
means he’s late for dinner. For me, it means I get a great education at an affordable cost, which means I can study a subject I care about and leave here prepared to put my best foot forward in the world.

  To him, it may be nothing.

  But to me, it’s everything.

  Dean Philips glances over at the other admins, then back to me. “Well then, welcome back to Clearwater University, Ms. Holloway. We’ll get the paperwork all taken care of so that you’ll be ready to start back by the summer if you so choose.”

  I swear I can feel a collective sigh of relief behind me as the three Icons each blow out a breath. My stomach feels like it’s packed full of butterflies, and I want to jump up and scream out my joy, but instead I give a polite nod.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The meeting wraps up, and all four of us head downstairs. As we walk down the hallway toward the exit, Trent wraps an arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my temple. His lips linger, his breath warm against my skin, and on my other side, West’s hand rests on my lower back, fingers just grazing the curve of my ass.

  Ever since we decided among ourselves that we were going to give this four-person relationship a real shot, none of the guys have held back about touching me or showing affection in public.

  I love it.

  It’s just one more of the little ways they show me how much they’ve changed and reassure me that they’d do anything for me. They’re not hiding their feelings for me, and they’re all confident enough in my feelings for them that they don’t care what the world thinks.

  We step outside into the bright early spring sunlight, and Reese pulls me into his arms, kissing me soundly. His eyes are dancing when he pulls away, and he tucks a strand of blonde hair behind my ear before he waggles his eyebrows.

  “So, what do you want to do to celebrate? Because we are celebrating.”

  My stomach flutters with nerves, and my fingers unconsciously dig into the firm muscles of his back.

  “Actually,” I murmur, “there is one thing I want to do. That I need to do. I don’t know if it’s really going to be a celebration, but it’s time. And I’d like you guys to be there with me when I do it.”

  Reese’s brow crinkles, his usually lighthearted expression turning serious as he reads the look on my face. “What is it, Ems? I mean, you know we’ll be there. For anything. But what’s up?”

  Trent and West step closer, protective worry filling their features, and I glance at each of them before answering Reese. “I need to tell my dad. About us. About everything.”

  Trent stiffens, and I see the muscles of his throat work as he swallows. But he doesn’t hesitate for even a second before saying, “We’ll be there for you.”

  I know what he thinks. He thinks this will be the end, the moment when this amazing thing we’ve built blows up in our faces. Our parents don’t know yet that all four of us are in a relationship, and that alone would be a little nerve-wracking to explain.

  But there’s a lot more to it than that.

  After handing our new final project over to Professor Sykes, I couldn’t get over the gnawing guilt I felt every time I considered the fact that a college professor I barely know has more insight into my life than my dad does. That’s not right. It’s not how things should be. My dad loves me—for so long, it was just the two of us after my mom died. And he deserves to be a bigger part of my life than I’ve allowed him to be.

  I know this is the right thing. But it’s scary.

  How will he react?

  I’ve already decided I won’t let it change things for me. In the past six months, I’ve become a stronger person, more confident in who I am and what I want. No matter what my dad says, I won’t let it affect how I feel about the three men I’ve started dating.

  “Well, no time like the present, I guess,” Reese murmurs, glancing over my shoulder as his gaze catches on something behind me.

  Even without turning around, I know what he’s looking at.

  My dad.

  I asked him to meet me here after my meeting with the dean, and he’s right on time. He must’ve come here straight from the office.

  “Ems!” My father calls out as we all turn to face him. “What’s all this about? You’re back in school? How—”

  “It’s a long story,” I say with a weary smile. I give Reese’s hand a quick squeeze before stepping away from him to approach my dad. “Can we go for a little walk? I have to explain a couple things to you.”

  He looks a little flummoxed, but he nods anyway. “Of course. Sure.”

  With a glance at the guys, I step up beside him and we make our way down one of the paved paths that cuts across campus. The three Icons all trail behind us, at a far enough distance to allow us privacy, but close enough that I can feel their silent support.

  “So?” My dad looks at me, hope and curiosity burning in his eyes. “What’s going on here? I mean, I’m thrilled you’re back at Clearwater, but how did you manage it? They were very clear on the terms of your admission.”

  “Yeah, they were,” I agree. “It took a lot of work, but I was lucky to have a lot of help. Reese, Trent, and West all went above and beyond for me to make this happen.”

  “That’s good.” He smiles, glancing back at them. “I’m glad you’ve got them on your side, honey. What did you all do to change the administrators’ minds?”

  “Well…”

  My mouth dries out, and I clear my throat. It would be so easy to keep lying. To make up some rosy story about why it all worked out and bury the past. But I’m done doing that. Miscommunications and lies are what got us all into this mess in the first place, and I don’t want any of that to taint my future with the guys.

  So I don’t lie. I start at the beginning, all the way back at Amundsen High, and I tell Dad everything.

  I clean up some details and brush over a few particulars—no father in the world wants to hear about his daughter’s sex life—but I tell him enough to give him a full view of what’s been going on in my life and how things got to this point.

  His footsteps slow as I speak, his face becoming an unreadable mask as he listens to me divulge truths I should’ve spoken a long time ago.

  I thought it would get easier once I started talking, but instead, every word out of my mouth seems to take more effort until I finally reach the point in the story where Trent destroyed our group project, bombing all of our grades and getting me kicked out of Clearwater University.

  Dad stops walking entirely, his face turning an ashen shade of gray. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and suddenly, he whips around and storms toward the three men who are lingering behind us.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” he growls, grabbing Trent by the front of his shirt as soon as he reaches him.

  My heart just about bursts out of my throat as my stomach drops into my shoes.

  Oh, shit.

  I’ve barely ever heard my dad swear in my life. He doesn’t mind when I do, but he’s just not the type of person who expresses himself like that.

  Except when he’s really pissed.

  Trent’s body tenses, and his nostrils flare. I know how much effort it’s taking him to hold back, to not meet anger with anger. His hands clench into fists, and for a wild, panicked second I think he might hit my dad.

  Then his eyes shift to me. The bright blue of his irises gleams like ice as his gaze seems to pierce all the way down to my soul. His fingers uncurl, and his broad shoulders relax slightly.

  “I wasn’t thinking,” he says carefully, turning back to my dad. “I was acting like a reckless asshole, and I almost destroyed the thing I care about most in the world. But you have my word, I will never do anything to hurt Emma again.”

  “Again?” My dad puffs up in anger, still glowering at Trent. Reese and West have come to stand behind their friend, backing him up and offering silent support, and Dad glares at them too. “Is that supposed to make things better? Haven’t you all done enough?”

  “Dad!” I step forw
ard, catching his arm and pulling him back. I know Trent won’t let himself fly off the handle at my father, but I can’t stand watching this. The three Icons have done their penance; they’ve paid their dues. “Didn’t you hear what I told you before? I wouldn’t be back in school if it wasn’t for these men. I wouldn’t have a job or a place to live!”

  “You wouldn’t have needed those things!” Dad bursts out, turning to face me. “Don’t you see, sweetheart? They’re the reason you ended up in that hole in the first place! They’re supposed to get credit for digging you out? For helping you get back to the same place where you were before they started messing with your life?”

  I put myself in between my father and the Icons, creating a physical barrier between him and them. My heart is hammering in my chest, adrenaline coursing through me. I won’t let myself regret telling Dad the truth, but now I have to make him understand the full breadth of it. What all of this really means. How far these men and I have come.

  “I’m not in the same place I was, Dad! Can’t you see that? I’m stronger. I’m more confident. I know who I am now. And I have three men I love standing by my side, prepared to take on the world with me. I’m so much better off now, and I don’t care that I had to go through hell to get here. I wouldn’t change any of it, because this is exactly where I want to be.”

  Dad freezes.

  His gaze settles on my face, his expression unreadable. The anger has faded a little, but I can’t quite figure out what emotion has risen up to replace it.

  “What are you saying, Ems?” he asks softly.

  “I’m saying I… I fell in love with my three best friends. My three worst enemies. The three men who know me better than anyone else in the world, and who I can’t imagine my life without. I’m dating them, Dad. All of them. We’re… together.”

  Oh God, I think I might pass out.

  It feels amazing to say it out loud, but utterly terrifying too. There’s a chance that not only will Dad never forgive the guys for what they’ve done, but that he’ll disapprove of our relationship so strongly that he’ll never speak to me again.