Who Laughs Last (Clearwater University, #2)

by Eva Ashwood

A slow smile spreads across his face, and it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. West doesn’t smile like this often, and the sight of it feels like a gift too.

Emma Holloway fucking owns me. She may not want my heart, but it’s hers anyway.

“I can’t stop.” His voice is soft, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I can’t. Believe me, I fucking tried, but I can’t stop thinking about you. And I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to pretend this never happened. I don’t want to pretend there’s nothing between us. I fucked up, Ems, and I want to make it better.”

she said something cruel and stupid out of anger, but that it doesn’t make her a monster. It makes her human.

Our relationship with someone isn’t defined by one single thing we say or do. It’s defined by how we are with them all the time, the entirety of how our lives intersect.”

I don’t know who moves first, me or her. I don’t know who closes the distance between us. All I know is that when my head drops and my lips find hers… I’m home.

“I don’t know what anyone else told you,” I say softly, my voice a low rasp. “But I won’t play that game with you anymore. I’m on your side. I’ll pick you from now on. I’ll fight for you.”

“I told you once that I would’ve treated you best, Ems,” I murmur. “And I meant it. I’ve wanted you since the first fucking moment I laid eyes on you, and I still want you. More than anything else in the whole damn world.”

“Jesus fuck,” West says slowly, speaking the words before I can say them. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Trent flinches uncomfortably, as if he’s not ready to admit any such fucking thing out loud. But he doesn’t have to. The truth is written all over his face. “You’re one to fucking talk,” he shoots back at West. “You trying to tell me you don’t have feelings for her?” “I’m telling you,” West growls, taking a few steps forward and getting in Trent’s face, his entire body radiating tension, “that I care about her a hell of a lot more than you ever will.”

Her answer wrenches a response out of me, and I break my own rules again. I promised myself I wouldn’t touch her, but one of my hands leaves the counter, and I grab her smaller one, bringing it to my chest—right to the spot she’s been staring at. Where my heart is. I don’t know how to tell her that it beats for her.