Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck Book 8)

by Emilia Finn

  “When you’re…” Quinn chokes on a cry and a laugh at the same time. “You have a job?”

  “I write books!” The girl stands taller, proud, and smiles as my young, brutish cousin steps closer to her. Charlie is my Uncle Jack’s first son, and he’s protective of the little girl who is allergic to damn near everything. “I wrote one for you, Miss Cam.”

  “You…” Quinn looks to me, then back to Lyss. “You wrote a book for me?”

  “Are you going to live here now? Because I didn’t bring the book with me. Daddy said not to, because we aren’t supposed to overwhelm you.”

  Miles sits back a little, and looks around like it’s not a big deal he was talking about Quinn behind her back.

  “But if you’re living here, maybe I can come back and visit soon. I’ll bring you the book, and I’ll even—”

  “Wait…” Quinn breathes through what I think might be panic. “Do you live here?”

  Lyss holds her hands behind her back and shakes her head until her long hair ruffles over her shoulders. “In this house? No. This is your house. But I live at the other house with my mom and dad.”

  “Your m—” She stops. Looks around again. But her brain simply cannot compute. “Your mom is here?”

  “Not my mom by blood.” Lyss reaches out for Brooke and holds her hand. “But my mom because I love her.”

  “Your m—Oh!” Quinn swings out an arm and smacks Miles’ thigh. “You bagged a Kincaid? What the eff, dude?”

  “I asked her to marry me.” Now it’s Miles’ turn to sit taller. To be proud. Then he adds, just in case any of us were wondering, “She said yes.”

  “Shut up!” Quinn rises to her feet, and pulls him in for a crushing hug. “You’re happy?”

  “Watch your words, Miles Walker.” Brooke sits back on the couch with her legs crossed, and studies her nails with a smile. “That fight we had this morning shouldn’t factor into your answer right now.”

  “You fought?” Quinn’s shy grin seems to morph into something a little more playful. “What did you fight about?”

  “That’s private,” Miles blusters. “We don’t have to—”

  “Lyss wants a bra,” Brooke murmurs playfully. “Miles isn’t keen.”

  “All the Miss Kincaids took me shopping,” Lyss adds. “I didn’t get a bra, but I got—”

  “A two-piece bathing suit,” Miles growls. “A two-piece!”

  “Aw.” Snickering, Quinn reaches out and pulls the girl into a side hug. “I bet it’s cute. Is it frilly?”

  “Uh huh. And it has sparkles, too. And Miss Evie said when I’m old enough, she’ll take me to get an earring, but in my bellybutton.”

  “If Miss Evie does that,” her father growls, “then Daddy and Miss Evie are gonna have beef.”

  “Whatever.” Evie lounges back in a pair of denim shorts, but with the button and zipper completely undone. Her thighs are toned and muscular, but above those sits a belly that looks entirely too large for her frame. “I don’t have the energy to argue right now.” She looks to Ben. “I think this baby missed its stop, Sasquatch. Now it’s too big to get out.”

  “It’s gonna be fine.” And yet, Ben watches his baby roll in her stomach. “It’ll be fine.”

  “I think maybe it just… ya know, forgot to get out on its due date, and now it’s too late. It’ll just keep growing in there until I burst. There’ll be guts all over the place, placenta and maybe baby poop. But it’s the only way for this to work out now.”

  Lyss remains beside Quinn, but she tilts her head and looks at my cousin. “What’s placenta?”

  “That’s enough of that.” Brooke jumps to her feet and brushes the tips of her fingers along Miles’ cheek as she passes. She stops in front of Quinn, extends a hand, and smiles. “Welcome to the family, Quinn. We’re not as scary as we look.”

  “Um…”

  “I can tell you’re not a hugger.”

  “Uh…” Quinn shakes her head. “Not particularl—”

  Brooke pulls her in anyway, for a bone-crushing hug. “Like I said. Welcome. And thanks for looking out for Lyss and Miles back in the day. I heard all about your friendship from five years ago.”

  “I-I babysat,” she stammers as Brooke pulls away. “I just… We watched a movie and went to sleep.”

  “And because you kept Lyss safe, Miles was able to fight and do what he had to do. Come on, baby.” She takes Lyss’ hand and brings her around to stop in front of me. “I’m happy you’re back.” Throwing her arms around my shoulders, Brooke pulls me in until my back stings, but my heart throbs.

  This is my family. They’re loud, bossy, annoying, and overwhelming. But they’re mine, and around here, we love unconditionally.

  Each member of my family makes their way through the room. They welcome Quinn to the family – not awkward at all – they hug, or shake hands, or study her, and either they don’t notice that she doesn’t want to be here, or they don’t care.

  After her, they come to me, hug me, thank me for coming home, and then they let themselves out one by one until all we’re left with is Bean, my mom, my dad, and two Great Danes.

  “Bean.” I take my sister’s hand and pull her up from her seat on Deck. “Can you take a look at Q’s shoulder? She said she pulled something while at work, but she hasn’t had it looked at.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Quinn steps back. “It’s fine. I’ve learned to live with it at this point. But maybe you could take a look at Jamie’s back.”

  Bean’s eyes whip back to me. “Your back?”

  “It’s nothi—”

  “I tried to disinfect it already, and I think I did a decent job.” Quinn reaches around to her back pocket and grabs her phone. “There’s broken skin, though, and I’m no medical professional, so maybe just take a look and make sure it’ll be fine. I’m just gonna…” She looks to my mom and turns pale. “I need to make a phone call.”

  She ducks out of the room and leaves us standing in an awkward huddle that ends with Bean turning me, and lifting my shirt.

  “What the hell happened to you?” she demands.

  My sister is shorter than me by almost a whole foot, so after only a moment of reaching up, she pushes me down to the couch and shoves my shirt up so it hooks over my shoulders. She’s gentle, patient, while she peels back the dressings Quinn put on this morning.

  “Baby, what did happen to you?” Mom steps closer and leans over us so she can look. “I can’t even guess.”

  “Pool cue.” I lean forward on the couch, and try with all my might to listen out for Quinn. “Some dude kept whacking me while I was busy dealing with someone else. It’s just a few bruises, though, so stop freaking out.”

  “He’s right,” Bean murmurs. “It’s actually not so bad. Bruised pretty bad, and a few breaks of the skin, but it’s clean.” She pokes around my tender back, and looks close enough that I feel her breath on my skin. “Just keep it clean, and I think it’ll heal up on its own.”

  “Does he need stitches?” Mom asks.

  “Nah. Probably doesn’t even need antiseptic, so long as he showers and keeps it clean.”

  “Did it mess up my ink?” I try to look over my shoulder.

  “It’s fine.” Dad stands over us with folded arms and a smile on his face. But his eyes tell the truth. They tell me of the worry he carries for me, the dread, the sorrow he’s watched me carry for four years. “How was it?”

  “My trip? Eventful.” I sigh. “I saw Will again, and he swears he’s innocent.”

  “Do you believe him?” Bean whispers. “Are you capable of making an unbiased decision?”

  I press my face into Giselle’s neck when she comes closer. “Yes, I believe him. And I think I know who really hurt that guy, and why, and I know why he targeted Will, too. It was the perfect opportunity to take care of a couple problems in one swoop.”

  For every moment that Quinn is out of my sight, the heaviness in my chest grows, so I push up straight and turn to meet my family’
s gazes. “Can you guys give me and Quinn some space? She’s terrified, and she has a tendency to run. So I just wanna… ya know. Make sure she’s comfortable and stuff.”

  “She hid as soon as she could,” Mom murmurs. “She doesn’t like us?”

  “I suspect it’s the other way around. She’s scared you don’t like her. Add in the lies, and the fact she ran, plus the bar fight she started last night, and—”

  “Wait.” Dad’s lips twitch with a smile. “She started the fight? That sweet girl with the dancer legs and nervous nail biting; she started a brawl?”

  “Yeah.” Chuckling, I turn on the couch and sit back. I need a second to relax, to breathe, to rest, before my family leaves, and the next round in this war begins. “She was trying to escape me so she could run back to her brother, so she found the biggest dude in the bar, flirted a little, told him I hit her sometimes, and—”

  “Bam!” Daddy laughs. “Pool cue to the back.”

  “It’s not funny!” And yet, I laugh too. “She got me beat to shit, and then at the end when she could have run—”

  “She ran back to you,” Mom finishes. “And then cleaned and dressed your cuts.”

  “Her plan backfired, because she hit a guy and hurt her own hand, then she ran back to me and got me out.”

  “Of a brawl she started.” Daddy snickers. “She’s crafty. I like that.”

  “She’s a pain in my ass. And now she’s been gone for five minutes, which means she’s probably in Alabama by now.”

  “What’s wrong with her shoulder?” Bean asks. “I don’t like how she holds it.”

  “I’m laying money on the fact she tore something important. And I don’t mean she stretched a ligament. I’m saying she tore the muscle clear off the bone.”

  “And she just…” Bean shakes her head. “She’s just living with that pain?”

  “Doesn’t complain about it, either. She’s gonna need to get it looked at, but until she trusts…”

  She nods. “In the meantime, try to keep her arm in that sling, minimize movement… How long ago did she do it?”

  I lift my good shoulder, and drop it again. “Dunno. It was like that when I found her. I’m thinking in the last couple weeks. It’s still sore, but I haven’t seen her take pain meds for it.”

  “Maybe get her anti-inflammatories, a heat pack, and then force her to sit until she can see a doctor.”

  “She won’t go. She has no legal ID.”

  “Soph can probably help with that,” Mom says quietly. It’s like a taboo subject, something only for whispers and privacy. It’s a secret we all know exists, but we don’t shout about it, and we never discuss it at the dinner table. “I bet she could sort that out, and we’ll cover the expenses.”

  “Yeah.” I snort. “Good luck getting her to accept that. Alright.” Stifling a yawn, I push up to the edge of the couch and groan. “I have to go find her before she steals your car or some shit.”

  “You want us to leave?” Mom straddles a line between hurt and practicality. “Will you come over to the house tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. I think we need some quiet time, but I’ll try and get her to visit tomorrow.” Then I look to Bean. “I might have more luck getting her to Ellie’s.”

  “She’s been watching our classes.”

  I smile. “How can you know?”

  Bean shrugs. “I don’t know how she does it, but Soph has this way of sending a session straight to Quinn without anyone else seeing it. And Quinn doesn’t know it’s only for her. She just assumes it’s a regular recording. But every single day, every time, we could tell that she was logged in and watching.”

  “That’s nice.” I take Bean’s hand as I stand, and pull her up with me. “I like that she had that, even if she didn’t realize it. I’ll try and tempt her over to the studio tomorrow.”

  “What’s the plan?” Mom asks. “You’re just gonna… like… pretend that this is her life now?”

  I switch out Bean for my mom, and pull her into a hug. “For right now, the plan is to bunker down and stay out of the way. Soph is helping Will, so once they fix that problem, Will can come here, and Quinn can make her choices. In the meantime, my job is to keep her on this side of the country and away from all of that bullshit over there.”

  About ten minutes after Quinn dashed out of my living room and away from my family, I lead them outside and say goodbye. My mom wants to go back inside and find Quinn, to become the mom, to hug and fuss, and probably feed her, since that’s what she does. But she acknowledges that Q is scared, that she’s in hiding, and that she’s proud. So after another round of hugs and promises to see each other tomorrow, my family heads out, and I turn back to the house with Giselle standing right beside me.

  It’s where she always is. Where she wants to be.

  She’s my princess, my high-maintenance, two-hundred-pound house guest who really does like the quiet. It’s not surprising to me that she gravitated toward Lyss’ home while I was gone.

  Heading back inside, I hold the door open for Giselle – her royal highness – and then I head toward the kitchen.

  Empty.

  I duck into the laundry.

  Empty.

  And then I open my back door and check the porch chairs.

  Empty.

  Frowning, I start up the stairs toward the second story and look into the rooms, and as each space I check comes up empty, my heart pounds faster. I know she’s a runner, and I know she’s proud, but she wouldn’t have run yet, right? She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye…

  Right?

  Fuck. That’s exactly what I told her she’d need to do.

  I check one spare bedroom, then the next. I check the bathroom – empty – then move into my bedroom and feel an odd mix of homecoming and dread. Homecoming, because I’m dying to sleep in my own bed again. But dread, because she’s not here.

  There isn’t a single clue that she even walked in here. There are no discarded shoes, no socks, no bra that she wanted to peel away, and no missing baubles that she wanted to pick up and look at.

  Just as I’m turning to leave, and preparing for a run through the forest in search, I catch a soft whisper on the air.

  Giselle hears it too, because her ears perk up, and her nose shoots into the air.

  The carpet in here is lush and thick, so it muffles the sound of my footsteps as I approach the mirrored closet. Stopping against the wall, I frown and wait.

  “I miss you, Will. I miss you so much that it makes me sick.”

  He obviously says something, because she goes quiet for a moment. But she breaks the silence with, “I know I was mad at you. I’m still kinda pissed. But the further away we drove, the more I missed you. Not even being pissed outweighs how much I miss you.”

  More silence, as I slide down the wall and sit on the floor just a foot away from where she sits. A single mirror-fronted closet door is the only thing that separates us.

  Well, that, and her inability to love me enough to choose me over him.

  “I know why,” she grits out. “But that doesn’t mean I agree with it. I’m not a child anymore, Will, so you having me packed up and shipped away is bullshit. What you should have done is talked to me about what you found, and then we could have come up with a pl—I know that! I know. But I was in his home, I had access to his private shit. Maybe me being on the inside could have been a good thing.”

  She stops for a moment, and huffs. “I was taking care of it, Will. He wasn’t gonna kill me. He wanted to date me. To romance me. For as long as I kept control of that situation and let him buy me dinner, I could have—”

  She doesn’t get it. Despite all of the information she now has, she just doesn’t get how dangerous her situation was.

  “Well, it’s too late now anyway. I’ve been gone for a few nights already. No call, no communication. I’ve lost whatever access I could have had. And I lost a well-paying job, so thanks for that.”

  Giselle lies down on the carpet beside
me, and rests her chin on my lap. She’s been my constant companion these last few years. The only one I willingly invited into my grief. She’s the perfect friend, always here to listen, doesn’t try to tell me to date again. She accepts me, faults and all, and doesn’t suggest I sign up for Tinder. She hugs me as often as I need it, and never tells me to try looking for someone new to kiss.

  “Have you been down to my studio?” she whispers to Will. “Are they mad?”

  Her studio. A space she was squatting in, with students who would come in through the back door, and pay her in cash.

  All she ever wanted was to teach, to choreograph. To have someone else dance her steps.

  “I’m gonna come home, Will. As soon as this is done, I’m coming home to you… Jamie?” She sighs, even as Giselle’s ears perk up at my name. “He’s… He deserves better than this. Someday, he’ll thank me for leaving. He’ll find the one, he’ll kiss her,” Quinn’s voice cracks, “and he’ll be so relieved that I moved along without a fuss. I’m too messy for him, too much trouble, he just doesn’t realize it yet. He hasn’t looked anywhere else, but once he starts, and meets someone normal, he’ll…” She rumbles out what I imagine is an eyeroll. “Yeah, I’m special, I’m beautiful, I’m worthy, blah, blah, blah. I know, Will.”

  In the silence I was trying to keep, Giselle sneezes loud enough that Quinn’s words come to a complete standstill.

  “Shit,” she hisses. “I have to go. No, I’m fine. He’s fine, too. A little bruised up because of me, but like I said… too much trouble. Okay.” Clothes rustle in my closet, and an elbow bangs against a wall until she grunts in pain. “Shit. Alright. I have to go. Love you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Okay. Bye.”

  I stay sitting against the wall, cross my ankles, and pat Giselle’s ears.

  And I wait.

  I wait for Quinn to face me. I wait for her to open the closet door. I wait for her to love me.

  But I’m certain only the first two will come true.

  “Come out, Q. I know you’re in there.”

  “I’m sleeping.” She makes an actual snoring sound, her way of diffusing a tense situation. “I already told you about my time at Hogwarts, and now you’ve discovered me in a closet. I’m afraid you’ve discovered my secret.”