Who Falls Hardest (Clearwater University Book 3)

by Eva Ashwood

  But as I twirl my pen back and forth between my fingers, a new thought takes root. And I know what I have to do.

  The meeting wraps up, and as everyone files out of the room, I step toward Devon.

  “I need to take a half-day. I’m sorry. There’s something I really need to do.”

  His eyes narrow a little, one eyebrow quirking up. I’m not sure exactly what I’ve done to deserve it, but I know Devon likes me. He respects me. I hope that will give me a little leeway right now.

  “Is this about that girl who’s been harassing you?” he asks.

  I nod.

  His lips press into a thin line, and he dips his chin. “Then stop wasting time talking to me and go get her.”

  I can’t hide the grin that spreads across my face. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  Grabbing my bag, I slip out of the office and onto the street, already looking up directions on my phone. It’ll be a long bike ride, but I don’t want to wait and ask one of the guys for a ride. They’d probably try to talk me out of going or want to come with me, and I can’t let either of those things happen.

  I need to do this.

  Alone.

  Because Trent loves me, and whether I was prepared for it or not, I think I love him back. I love West. I love Reese.

  And you fight for what you love.

  The day is unseasonably warm, and I break a bit of a sweat as I ride my bike out to Sun Valley Rehab Center. My ass is still a little sore from yesterday, and a blush warms my cheeks at the memory of why. I know it wasn’t a coincidence that Trent fucked me while I had the plug in my ass. He was testing the waters, helping me prepare for what he knows I want.

  All three of them inside me at once.

  Just like in my dream.

  My body temperature rises for an entirely different reason than the exertion of biking, and I work to clear my thoughts as I pull to a stop outside the rehab facility where Leslie is staying. I’m about to venture into the belly of the beast, and I need to stay sharp.

  I lock up my bike, then smooth down my hair and straighten my shirt. My heart is beating hard and fast in my chest, but whatever I do, I can’t let Leslie know I’m nervous. She’s a shark, and fear is like blood in the water.

  Everything inside Sun Valley Rehab Center is clean and orderly. They’ve gone with a minimalist design, maybe as a way to try to soothe their inpatients or something, and large windows let in the bright sunshine from outside.

  “Can I help you?” A woman looks up from behind the front desk. She’s wearing the kind of floral blouse my grandma used to wear, and her curly hair frames her face.

  “Yes. I’m here to see Leslie Harstonn.”

  Her eyebrows lift slightly, but she turns back to her computer and types quickly. “I don’t have any guests listed for today.”

  “No.” I step a little closer. “I don’t have an appointment or anything. But I was her roommate at Clearwater University, and it’s really important that I speak with her.”

  “Oh!” Her face brightens a little. “She hasn’t had any visitors except her parents since she arrived.”

  She hasn’t?

  Shit. There goes my theory that she had someone bringing her a phone or smuggling in some kind of computer equipment under the guise of “visiting.” Still, I know she has to be getting help from outside the facility somehow. There’s no way she could still be actively fucking with our lives if she wasn’t.

  “I had a busy start to the semester,” I say, carefully avoiding lying outright. I’ve definitely been busy—just not with school. “But I finally got an afternoon off and wanted to come and see how she’s doing.”

  “Well, that’s very sweet of you.” The woman nods. “I’ll just need you to sign in.”

  I show her my ID and sign the form she indicates. I keep a neutral expression on my face, but as I go through the steps to be allowed inside the facility, I can’t help but wonder how on earth Leslie is getting help from the outside—this place isn’t quite Fort Knox, but they definitely take precautions to keep unauthorized people from getting inside.

  After I’m approved to enter, the woman behind the front desk has an orderly take me into the back. I follow along silently as the young man leads me through several hallways, finally stopping in front of a door at the far end of the building.

  “Here you are, miss.”

  He raps on the door, and a moment later, it swings open. Leslie’s gaze settles on him first, and she opens her mouth to speak, an annoyed look on her face. Then her mismatched blue and green eyes land on me, and her jaw snaps shut.

  The expression on her face is unreadable for a moment.

  Then she beams. “Emma! I’m so glad you came. Come in, come in.”

  Grabbing my hands, she pulls me inside the room. The orderly smiles and closes the door behind us, and the second he’s out of sight, Leslie’s expression changes again.

  She drops my hands and cocks her head, narrowing her eyes. “What the fuck do you want?”

  My blood runs cold at the way she changed so quickly, like someone flipped a switch inside her. But I guess that’s exactly what sociopaths do. They’re such good actors that nobody knows they’re acting.

  “I just want to talk to you,” I say, standing my ground and keeping my voice neutral.

  This might be a really stupid idea. I didn’t check with the guys or with Detective Walton before coming here, and for a moment, I curse myself for thinking I could play amateur detective.

  Leslie backs away from me, a sneer curling her lips. “What, have another heart to heart? Whine about how three of the hottest guys in school are all obsessed with you and you just couldn’t help but fuck them all?”

  The mocking tone of her voice sets my teeth on edge, but I know what’s beneath it.

  Jealousy.

  I trusted her as a friend and confidant during my first semester at Clearwater, and I told her things I’d never told anyone else. I confided in her when I slept with each of the Icons—but I wasn’t doing it to gloat. I told her all of that because I was genuinely fucked up in the head about it, unsure why all of this was happening or what to do with the intense emotions I felt toward each of them.

  But all she saw was an ungrateful slut who didn’t deserve the attention of one man, let alone three.

  Just like Caitlin Smith in high school, who went out of her way to drive a wedge between me and the Icons. Between me and my best friends. All in the hopes of having them for herself.

  This is personal, I remind myself. So let it be personal. Let her be jealous. It’ll make her stupid and sloppy.

  “No.” I smile placidly. “I don’t need your advice on my love life anymore. I’ve figured it out. Trent, West, Reese and I are together. All four of us. It’s perfect.”

  The mocking expression on her face slips slightly, surprise showing instead. I don’t think she expected to hear that. She probably thought that all the shit she’s been pulling on us would truly tear us apart. That the stress would set us at each other’s throats like wolves.

  She never thought it would actually make us band together. Make us stronger.

  Leslie recovers quickly, affixing a bored expression to her face as she settles back onto the bed. Her room is small, with a desk against one corner, a bed, and a wardrobe on the opposite wall. I don’t see a phone or computer anywhere, which isn’t surprising.

  “You think you’re so fucking special because you’ve got three guys falling over themselves for you?” She huffs out a laugh. “Trust me, it’s not so hard to get guys on the hook. You’re not the only one, and your vagina isn’t magical or anything.”

  The implication that I’m just using the guys for sex—or worse, that I’m using sex as a tool to get them to do what I want—infuriates me, but I do my best to keep my emotions under wraps just like she is. She’s trying to get under my skin, trying to make me doubt myself or feel like shit.

  And I won’t let her.

  “Yeah?” I allow myself a slightly
smug grin. “You’ve got three boyfriends in here, do you? A little lockup hookup?”

  Her multi-colored eyes flash with irritation. Good. I’m getting to her as much as she’s getting to me. It hasn’t been that long since I last saw her, but at lot has happened since then. I feel like a different person. More confident, more in control. She can’t manipulate me the way she used to, and I can tell she hates that.

  “I wouldn’t date any of the losers in here.” She rolls her eyes like I’m crazy for even suggesting it. “I don’t need to anyway.”

  My pulse picks up a little, but I make sure not to give any outward sign. Instead, I lazily run my finger down the spine of a book that’s sitting on the desk.

  “Sure you don’t. I bet guys will be banging down your door as soon as you get out of here.”

  She shakes her head, a look of withering pity on her face. “That’s the problem with you, Emma. You never realized that some guys like bad girls. The more dangerous you are, the hotter you are. I’m plenty dangerous. And that’s what keeps my man interested. It took me a little while to realize that too, but when I did…” She grins. “Well, let’s just say things finally heated up between us.”

  I hardly dare draw in a breath, and I’m careful to keep from looking her directly in the eye.

  So she does have someone. Some guy she’s seeing.

  And I’m pretty sure I know who it is.

  I want to push for answers, to try to confirm my theory. But if I let her know what my guess is, she can start trying to cover her tracks.

  She can’t know that I have any idea how she’s been managing to connect to the outside world from a facility that bans the use of phones, laptops, and other devices.

  God, I hope I’m right.

  “I’m glad you have someone, Leslie,” I say softly. “And I hope he really does care about you—that he likes you for you, and not just because you manipulated him with sex or whatever. Because when it comes down to it, when the chips are all on the table and you need someone by your side, the only people who will be there are the ones who know you and love you. In spite of all your weaknesses and flaws.”

  I turn toward the door, but stop with my hand on the knob and look back over my shoulder.

  “I used to think you were one of those people to me. Now I know better. But I should thank you for helping me find the people who really are.”

  With that, I leave the room.

  19

  Emma

  My legs shake as I make my way back through the hallways toward the front desk. I see a few orderlies walking through the corridors, but they ignore me as they go about their work. My mind is whirling, putting puzzle pieces together as I sort through the conversation I just had with Leslie.

  She gave away more than she meant to, I know that much. She might not even realize she gave me information I can use, but she did.

  The question is, did she give me enough to complete the puzzle?

  When I reach the front desk again, I smile at the woman who greeted me when I arrived. My gaze flashes down to read the name tag pinned to her shirt.

  Cheryl Becker.

  “How was your visit?” she asks as I approach. I see her gaze flit toward the clock on the wall, and I wonder if she’s noticed that my chat with Leslie didn’t last very long.

  “It was… good,” I say. “We each got some things off our chests, I think.” I lean on the front counter a little, lowering my voice. “She really hasn’t had any other visitors?”

  “No.” Cheryl shakes her head. “None. Except her family, twice.”

  “No guys came to see her?”

  I’m aware my question is too personal, and that it’ll probably make Cheryl clam up, but I need to know. There has to be something. Leslie made it clear she’s got a guy on the hook. A guy who likes how dangerous she is, and who would do anything for her.

  There has to be some evidence of his existence. Some way he’s been in touch with her if he’s helping her while she’s confined.

  “No.” Just as I expected, Cheryl’s brows pull together. The single word is drawn out, as if she’s buying herself time to consider why I’m asking about this.

  “Right.” I force a smile onto my face, trying not to let my disappointment show.

  Dammit. I was so close.

  There’s something I’m missing. I know it.

  I’m about to turn and head for the door when another orderly emerges from the back.

  Only this face, I recognize.

  Holy shit.

  Grabbing a brochure from the front desk, I open it and study it intently, letting my blonde hair cascade down to shield my face. My heart is beating out a hard, fast rhythm in my chest, and I swear I don’t take a breath until the orderly disappears into the back again.

  “Miss, are you alright?” Cheryl looks concerned as I straighten and put the brochure back.

  “Yes.” I nod jerkily. “I’m fine. Um, can I ask, how long has that orderly worked here?” I gesture toward where the man I recognized stepped into the back. “Rory?”

  Cheryl’s eyebrows rise, and she shoots a confused look in the direction I’m indicating. “Oh, that boy’s name isn’t Rory. It’s Miles Mather. He’s new here, he just started a little after the new year. Does he look like someone you know?”

  I gaze at her, blinking stupidly for a moment.

  He doesn’t just look like someone I know. He is someone I know. Rory, the guy Leslie was dating last semester.

  “I—I must’ve been mistaken,” I stammer quickly, before turning and walking out as fast as I can. I need to leave before he comes back and catches sight of me, before Leslie realizes there’s a chance I could’ve seen him.

  Rory is working at the facility.

  Only not as Rory, but as Miles Mather—an identity switch that would be easy enough for someone like Leslie to pull off. Once she realized her parents were sending her to rehab, she must’ve set this all up. And Rory, the kind of guy who’s obviously attracted to dangerously crazy women, got on board with it. When Leslie was pretending to be normal and well-adjusted, their relationship fizzled.

  But sneaking around? Helping her get contraband into the rehab facility? Probably fucking her in her room, knowing they could get caught?

  I guess that was the shot of adrenaline their relationship needed.

  My stomach churns as I hurry to my bike, pulling out my phone as I go. I unlock the bike and walk it several blocks away before I call Detective Walton and tell him everything.

  It’s all still a patchwork of hunches. I don’t have any evidence, except for the fact that I recognized Rory and he apparently isn’t going by his given name at his new job.

  But Walton listens, not interrupting. And when I finish, there’s a note of triumph in his voice as he tells me he’ll look into it—that he’ll take over from here.

  He’s a cop. He’s got the resources to investigate and issue warrants. He can tie this up.

  But he needed me to find the loose thread. And I finally did.

  “Well done, Miss Holloway,” he tells me. “You did well. I’m impressed.”

  “You’ll keep me posted? Let me know what you find out?” I press, glancing back in the direction of Sun Valley. It’s out of sight now, but somehow I feel like Leslie can still see me. Like she’s a witch who’s got eyes everywhere.

  Not for long though, hopefully.

  Sun Valley might be secure, but it’s nowhere near as secure as a prison.

  I could try to make it back to the office for the last couple hours of the work day, but I need a little time to process everything that just happened. And I really want to tell the guys. I’m a little nervous about it too, honestly. They’re all so protective, I can’t imagine they’ll be thrilled about me going to see Leslie on my own.

  My bike ride home is slow and leisurely. I take my time, appreciating the view and the warm sun beaming down on my skin. This was one of the things I missed most when we left California—the bright sunshine that seems
like it could cut through any gloom.

  For the first time in a while, giddy optimism fills me. There are still obstacles and hurdles to overcome in my future, but maybe now I’ll be able to actually focus on them without constantly looking over my shoulder. And when they come, I’ll have three men standing beside me to help me face them.

  It takes me long enough to get back to the Icons’ house that all three of the guys are there when I walk through the front door. Reese and West are on the couch, West sipping a beer, while Trent sits on the easy chair nearby. They’re all watching a game on TV, but as I push through the door, their heads turn in unison.

  Trent grabs the remote and switches off the TV, his body instantly going tense.

  “You’re home early. What’s going on, Ems?”

  “You okay?” Reese adds, his green eyes narrowing as he skims his gaze up and down my body like he’s looking for injuries.

  West stands, looking ready to beat the hell out of someone, and my heart swells at the immediacy of their reaction. I have no doubt all three of them would march out of this house right now to take on the world if I needed them to.

  But as much as I love having them in my corner, I’m no shrinking violet or delicate flower. I can take care of myself—something this whole mess finally taught me.

  “I’m okay.” I hold my hands up, and West grudgingly settles back onto the couch as I come to stand before all of them, taking the spot in front of the now-black TV screen. “I went to visit Leslie today.”

  “You what?”

  Now all three men are back on their feet, and I feel a shiver work down my spine, a combination of fear and arousal. They’re a formidable force when they’re all united like this, moving in sync as if they share a brain. It’s intimidating as hell to witness, but it’s also sexy as fuck. They’ve demonstrated repeatedly what they can all do when they work together, when they set their singular focus on taking care of me and bringing me pleasure, and my clit throbs a little even as I raise my hands again.