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She looked good in everything she tried on, but it was more than that. Her enthusiasm is infectious as hell, and it blows my mind how optimistic and positive she can be, even after all the shit she’s been through.
Unable to help myself, I walk down the hall and poke my head into Reese’s room, just to make sure she’s not here. She isn’t, but a few clothes are strewn across the bed from her frenzied outfit changes this morning.
I glance around the room, taking in her suitcase, which sits open against one wall, and her laptop on the nightstand.
Fuck. She’s really getting settled in here.
I don’t know quite how to feel about that. On the one hand, having her in our house is exactly what I want. Knowing that she’s living under the same roof as me gives me a peace I wouldn’t have expected—as if there’s some kind of invisible string that ties us together, and it would be physically painful to have her live anywhere else.
But on the other hand, why the fuck does Reese get to be the one whose room she stays in? Granted, he’s sleeping on the couch every night, so it’s not like they’re sharing a bed. But fucking hell, I want her in my bed, between my sheets.
I hate the idea of him having something special with her that I don’t have. Even if it’s just her sleeping in his room.
Rapping my knuckles on the door frame, I turn and head back into the living room. After spending the morning on the phone with both the bank and my credit card company, I don’t want to do anything but crack open a beer and chill. Emma should be getting home from work soon, and I’ve got plans to whisk her away for dinner.
Reese and Trent can just deal with it.
I chuckle to myself at that thought. I doubt either of them will be happy if I sneak Emma out of the house for a date—none of us like her having something with the others that she doesn’t have with us.
But fuck it. She’s allowed to do what she wants. And I plan on treating her like a damn queen tonight.
After grabbing a beer from the fridge, I settle onto the couch, leaning back and spreading my legs as I drape one arm over the back cushion. But before I take a sip, the sound of keys in the front door lock draws my attention. I turn, hoping to see Emma’s golden hair and pale, delicate face.
But it’s not her. It’s Trent.
“Hey, man.” He lifts his chin in greeting as he tosses his keys on the coffee table.
“Hey,” I grunt. “Where were you?”
He shrugs, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “Went downtown after I got out of class. I stopped by to see Paul Holloway.”
That gets my attention. I sit up a little straighter, my brows furrowing. “Why?”
Trent’s blue eyes harden a little, as if he’s daring me to give him shit. “I just wanted him to know Emma’s gonna be okay. I needed to bury the hatchet with him—it was long past time, really. He broke up with my mom because he thought he needed to focus on Ems and what she’s going through, so I just wanted to make sure he understood that she’s not alone. We’ve got her back.”
His voice is earnest and intense, filled with the same charisma that Trent always exudes—the same sense of purpose that got me and Reese to follow along in his wake as he made it his mission to destroy Emma.
And that pisses me the fuck off.
I’m not mad that he’s given up his insane vendetta against her, that he’s finally stopped trying to punish her for shit that was in no way her fault. But that doesn’t give this motherfucker the right to act like some kinda hero, swooping in to save the day, making sure Ems is taken care of.
If it weren’t for him, who knows if any of this shit would’ve even happened? And now he’s gonna act like the savior? The righteous protector?
Fuck that.
I’m not discounting my role in this bullshit, but at least I have the goddamn self-awareness not to try to pretend I’m anything other than a slightly reformed asshole.
“Yeah.” I huff out a breath, taking a swig of my beer. “We’ve got her back. I guess that makes you a real fuckin’ hero, doesn’t it?”
Trent pushes away from the wall, his eyes narrowing. “Dude, what the fuck are you getting at? Why don’t you just say it?”
I slam my beer down so hard that foam bubbles out of the top, sliding down the neck of the bottle and coating my fingers. Shaking my hand out, I surge to my feet.
“Alright, I’ll say it. You don’t fucking deserve her, man. After everything you did to bring her down, you’re lucky she’ll even speak to you, let alone stand in the same room as you. But you expect her to love you? To choose you over me or Reese? There’s no fucking way.”
Trent’s jaw clenches. “That’s not up to you, West. It’s up to Emma. And she’s a better person than you give her credit for.”
“I know exactly how damn incredible she is.” Anger burns through my veins, and I stalk toward him. These words have been eating away at me for weeks, and now there’s no holding them back. “I know what a good person s
