Full House (Stacked Deck Book 4)

by Emilia Finn

  “Mm.” He opens the driver’s side door, tosses his training bag into the back, and slams it shut again to lean exactly the same way I was. Bry wears a black ballcap pulled low to squash his hair down, and though his eyes still bear a little color from old bruises, he has nothing new to show for two days of constant fighting. “You excited to see your girl?”

  “Brooke?”

  He snarls. “I meant Alyssa, you fuckwit. Don’t talk to me about Brooke.”

  Laughing, I walk around the car and stop by the door when some of the other cars begin loading up. Ben and Evie drove here in a truck. Mac and Lucy in an old-as-balls Barracuda that makes my heart sigh. Bobby and his brothers came in an SUV, and other folks came in their own rides.

  We’re a fighter cavalcade, we migrated from one town to the next as we made our way to the exact right piece of the river.

  “Why are you so weird about Brooke? I swear you’re bipolar, man. We discuss Brooke, and you turn into the Hulk. But then we bring up Alyssa, and you turn into a fucking puppy.” I slide into the passenger seat when he opens his door and does the same on his side. “I can’t decide if I like you or loathe you.”

  “You’re gonna learn to loathe me,” he grumbles and switches his engine on. Music blasts through the speakers and does damage to my ears, but he turns it down fast, fixes his seatbelt, and when every other car pulls out, he follows and closes out our line. “I think Alyssa is the cutest thing since… ever. I keep you around because your daughter is awesome. But I’ll steal her and dispose of you if I must. Stop checking my sister out. It’s annoying.”

  “I think I’m in love.”

  “With Alyssa?” He nods. “Me too.”

  I grin. “We both know who I meant.” I look to him. “I’m talking about Brooke, in case you needed that clarification.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  I laugh. “She started this, you should know. She’s confident, forward, and doesn’t know how to be brushed off. She’s also fucking beautiful, charming, and she fell in love with Lyss too. So now I have no clue what to do with her.”

  Finally, frowning, he turns to me. “What’s so hard to figure out? You like her, she tolerates you.” He waves a hand. “Go forth and be happy and all that shit.”

  “And if I lose at Stacked Deck this year? My contract states pretty clearly why I’ve been hired by your family’s gym. I’m to train and win tournaments. Then I’m to give your family a cut. If I lose, Rollers make no money. Lyss being the cutest thing ever won’t be enough to keep us around. Eventually, we’ll get the boot and be asked to leave.”

  “Are you planning on losing?” He casts a fast glance over to my side as we leave a smaller road, and slide into traffic on a wider freeway. “Like, why are you planning to lose and get the boot?”

  “I’m not,” I chuckle. “But we all walk in with a fifty-fifty chance. The outcome isn’t decided until a hand is raised in victory.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Iowa. It’s never a fifty-fifty chance. Because we train so fucking hard, we ensure our win. The outcome is decided long before we step into the octagon. When we train as hard as we do, we already know who’s won. Same as Mac already knew he was out before you and him went toe to toe. Smalls saw it in you, she chose you, even over her best friend. She saw it again, and begged our dads to bring you into contract.”

  He sits back when traffic begins moving smoothly. Rests his head against the headrest, opens his legs and rests an elbow on the door frame, and settles in for the two-hour drive. “Smalls ain’t stupid, Iowa. Fuck knows, she acts like it sometimes, but she knows fighters. There’s a reason you’re here and Mac has stepped down. Because that fight has already been decided. And that was before you began training with us. You did what you did with random bullshit weights in the yard, with your daughter on your back, with a backpack filled with bottles of water for extra weight. You did all of that with willpower. Now you have willpower and a state-of-the-art gym with unlimited access.”

  He looks to me. “You getting nervous?”

  I shrug. “It’s coming up fast, and I feel like there are a lot of people watching me, a lot of Kincaids who want me to win, to make them money, but also who want me to lose, because then maybe Brooke will see I’m a loser and dump my ass.”

  He scoffs. “There’s only one Kincaid that wants to see you gone.”

  I turn to him with a frown.

  He grins. “Yup, it’s me. But yet, here I am, making sure you’re at camp, pushing you harder, making sure you’re ready to win. I wanted to drown you in that fuckin’ river, because I know you touch my little sister. But I want you to win, because if you don’t, if you leave, you’ll break her heart. And shit, I can’t handle seeing her cry.

  “Brooke and I… we were born in the same twelve-month period. Irish twins,” he says, then laughs, “also known as parents who got a little over enthusiastic. We’re not twins, but it sure as hell feels like it sometimes. She’s always been smarter than me, kinder, sassier. Those eleven or so months between us never felt like they existed.”

  He runs a hand over his face, fixes his hat. “I just care that she’s happy. That she’s smiling, and that she ends up with a man who understands her. She walks around with her head in the clouds, she’s plotting those stories, writing people into love, smiling, laughing when no one said anything remotely funny. She lives with these people in her head, she loves them, and it takes a special man to understand that, to not smother her flame of creativity. That’s why we keep you; you get it, you get her, and you encourage her. For my dad and uncles, you’re a non-issue. They see you with Alyssa, and they know you’re a good man. You would never, could never, have raised someone as pure and beautiful as Lyss if you were a prick. She’s basically your walking, talking resume and character reference. We know you’re a man that steps up, we know that you dedicate yourself to her. We know that you’re a gentleman, because fuck knows, you’re not gonna disrespect Brooke in front of your girl and let her think that’s okay.”

  “I won’t ever hurt her. I won’t disrespect her. I won’t do anything to cause her pain.”

  He nods and slows a little when we catch up to the cars in our convoy. He has a lead foot, and purposely hangs back, away from his dad, like he knows Bobby will give him grief for it.

  “I believe you. Which is why I’ll probably buy Lyss a horse.”

  “Fuck you will,” I laugh. “Where the hell do you suppose we’ll keep a horse? I sure as hell hope your answer is in your bedroom. Because then it can shit on your head while you sleep. It’s what you’d deserve for buying a little girl a fuckin’ horse her dad said no to.”

  “I love her so much…”

  “Lyss?”

  He sighs. “Uh huh. She’s your crotch fruit, she doesn’t bear any resemblance or relation to my sister, and yet, I fell hard. I don’t know how to switch it off.”

  I laugh. “Welcome to my world. This little baby comes along, suddenly you’d kill a motherfucker for her. You don’t want to be that invested, you don’t actually wanna go to prison if someone fucks with her. But you’re willing to anyway.” I shake my head. “I was once a teenager, a fighter, I had scholarships, a college campus with my name on it, a girlfriend that was always ready to party. Then I was a dad. And I didn’t want to be, I fought against it, I rejected it.”

  “Then…?”

  I scoff. “Then they placed her in my arms at the hospital. I was fucked from that moment on.” I look to him. “It was the best and worst day of my life. When you get yourself a girl that you intend to keep, when you create a baby, I’m gonna be at the hospital, and I’m gonna watch you fall in love. It’s…” I sigh. “It’s surreal.”

  “You’re getting all romantic and shit,” he huffs. “Quit it. We have to be in this car together for two hours. Don’t make me push you under a truck.”

  “But you won’t,” I smile. “Because you love Brooke, and you love Lyss. And if you hurt me, they’ll cry. Fuck.” I laugh. “I
’m so in. I realized it just now; you have to like me, because you’re in love with them.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I’m not gonna lose at the tournament.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “And even if I do, you’re in love with Lyss. I won’t get the boot anyway.”

  “Shut the fuck up. This isn’t permission to get lazy.”

  A two-hour trip goes fast when you’re in the car with a guy you genuinely like and respect. He puts on the tough act to protect his family, but if you’re in, you’re in. Which means it takes only minutes to loosen his tongue until he tosses Brooke under the bus and tells me stories of their youth.

  He tells me stories of a place called Popcorn Palace – of summers spent in the rundown home, as they tore it apart more and more with every day that passed. He tells me how Brooke is actually pretty skilled on a skateboard – a skill her Aunt Britt taught her. He tells me of the first time Brooke was kissed at school; the issue was, she didn’t want to be kissed.

  She sent that prick to the emergency room, and she was taken out to ice cream to celebrate the fact she knew how to handle herself.

  He tells me about her prom, about how he took her, because she didn’t want anyone else.

  He tells me about his story in her bundle of books – he’s the overenergetic meerkat – and in his book, he’s a daredevil that just won’t learn to stop fucking around.

  Then, because Brooke still hasn’t told me about the ice cream statue in my spare bedroom, he fills in the blanks.

  Miss Dixie, the owner of the parlor, is a bitch who makes everyone’s lives hell. Britt – the teacher I trust my daughter’s life to – and her friends got it in their heads that they were gonna steal the statue. They happened across a llama at a yard sale one day, decided it was fate, and switched them out in the dead of night. They stole the one that lives in my spare room, and, as far as Dixie is aware, her beloved statue hasn’t been seen or heard from since.

  Now he’s in ‘statue protective custody’ and changes homes at least once per year.

  “My home is keeping stolen goods? As in, if the cops get word of his whereabouts, I’ll be held culpable as the recipient of stolen goods? Awesome.”

  “Except for the fact that Ben’s stepdad is the cops.”

  I shouldn’t have asked.

  Eventually, because Bry can’t seem to help himself, he works his way to the front of the fleet of cars we’re traveling with, overtakes his dad with a finger held to the window for them to see, and an hour and fifty minutes after leaving the river, we pull into town and split away from our entourage.

  Bobby’s SUV stays close and follows us toward the estate. Some of the others break away and head to their homes. Evie and Ben follow us, despite the fact they don’t live here anymore, and behind them, Mac and Lucy rumble along in the ‘Cuda.

  My stomach does flips the closer we come, and though I say nothing, Bry’s smile grows. He feels my nerves, my happiness, my excitement.

  He pulls up to the security gates and swipes his pass over the scanner, but my eyes are for my house. My shitty car parked out front.

  No obvious signs of distress. No ambulances nearby.

  “Fuck me, I think everything is fine.”

  Bry laughs. “She’s literally texting you every thirty seconds, but you’re still worried?”

  “I’m a natural worrier.”

  I unsnap my seatbelt, despite the fact he’s not done driving. Because he’s a prick, he rolls right on past my house and into his driveway. He takes his time taking it out of gear. Pulling up the handbrake. Switching off the engine.

  Behind us, the Rollers park us in. And on the road, Ben parks his truck and blocks everyone in.

  I push my door open before anyone else, snatch up my training bag, and with my heart in my throat, I bound across the lawn, hurdle a patch of daisies, and jog to my house.

  I can’t stay away.

  I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

  I’m so in love I’m going to make myself sick.

  I push my front door open with a flourish and toss my training bag to the floor. “Brooklyn?”

  “In the kitchen,” she calls out.

  Bry, as though sensing I’m about to disrespect the shit out of his sister with my tongue down her throat, races across my lawn and follows me in, and behind him, so do the rest of the Rollers.

  I make a beeline for the kitchen, and move extra fast so I can have a single second alone with Brooke before the rest step in and ruin it. I push the kitchen door open, find Lyss kneeling on a stool at the counter, and in the fridge, Brooke folds in half and takes something from a bottom shelf.

  She wears jeans that fit her like a second skin, a Rollin Gym hoodie, and she left her long, blonde hair hanging loose today, since it’s not particularly warm.

  I rush forward and grab her hips, slide my hand into her hair and pull her around, then I slam my lips against hers and welcome myself home.

  “Miles?”

  I freeze. Open my eyes. Look straight into a pair of blues – just like I should – but they’re wide, shocked, maybe a little pissed.

  Then I pull back far enough to see the rest of her face. Her flattened lips. Her balled fist.

  I spin, and find Brooke standing at the doorway to the walk-in pantry. Then I spin back and confirm I just kissed her mom.

  Her mom!

  “Oh shit!”

  “Fuck you didn’t,” Bry roars. He runs at me, slams me to the tile, sits on my hips, and whales on me with closed fists. “I said you could have Brooke. But my mom is off limits!”

  “Oh my god.” Brooke lowers to a crouch, and howls with laughter. “Oh my god. Mom!”

  “What!” she screeches. “I didn’t do it! He grabbed me!”

  “Get him, Uncle Bry!”

  “Alyssa May!”

  Brooke

  Oh, Dear

  “You kissed my mom, Miles! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” he groans. He holds an ice pack to his bloodied nose, throws his head back, and whimpers. “I kissed your mom.”

  “I mean…” I move to the couch and sit down so I’m half on the cushion, half on his thighs. “Is she better at it than me?”

  “Brooklyn! This isn’t funny. I have to leave now. Move states. Never come back.”

  He pulls the ice pack away from his nose, checks the blood on the cloth we’ve wrapped it in, and groans. “I can’t believe I kissed your mom. How do I come back from that?”

  “You’ll probably have to kiss Aunt Tink now. She’ll hate that she missed out.”

  “You’re not helping,” he glowers. “Bry and I were getting along.”

  “And then you kissed his mom!” I lose my shit and snort giggle. “Oh my god, Miles. He took you to the ground hard. I swear, I should be bitter you kissed someone other than me, and that you still haven’t kissed me, but I think I tinkled from laughing so hard.”

  I rest my cheek on his shoulder, bounce us both from my giggles. “I haven’t had so much fun in… ever. This day will go down in history. It will be repeated at every family function from now until eternity. No way is my daddy gonna give you his blessing to marry me, because nobody pouts like him. You kissed his wife, Miles! Shit, there’s no coming back from that.”

  “I hate you all. I hate this estate. I hate this family.”

  “You really don’t.”

  I push up to my knees so I can look down at him, into his eyes, to show him my smile. “I missed you so much. And though a regular homecoming would have been great, doing it your way was just…” I sigh. “It was the best.”

  Still giggling, I maneuver around his ice pack, and drop a kiss on his lips. They’re a little swollen, bloody, but they’re his, and I’ve missed them.

  “Did you have a nice time away?”

  Pouting, he nods and puckers his lips for another.

  I oblige him and let my heart flutter. I was already sure, already certain I was in
love. But reunited, it’s confirmed; I’m screwed.

  “Miles?”

  “Mm?”

  “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  His lips quirk into a small grin. “I’m happy to be home too. I missed the hell out of you.”

  “Miles?”

  He chuckles. “Mm?”

  “I love you. It’s best that I tell you that now. Ya know, get you prepared, get you primed and used to it.”

  His eyes widen, darken. But I suppose that could be because of Bry’s fists. “Primed and ready for what?”

  “For when I move in and demand my place in your home. There will be none of that half-in-half-out stuff for us.” I shrug. “I’m in love, which means I want to be a part of your family. And in exchange, I’ll share mine with you. Though…” I pause. “In my family, it’s not customary to kiss other peoples’ wives.”

  “You’re a jerk,” he huffs. But then his hand winds into the back of my hair and pulls me closer. “I love you too. It’s best you know that, because I wanna keep you, and I would be devastated if you left to sleep in a different room, in a different house. Don’t leave us.”

  He pulls me down until our lips slide together, and the fresh flavor of blood sizzles on my tongue. “Move in with us, Brooklyn? Stay forever?”

  I reach up to cup his face, sliding my thumb over his cheek where I’m reasonably confident it doesn’t hurt. “I want Lyss, too. I want to call her mine. I want her to know that she can count on me. Yesterday, when I picked her up from school, she was so happy that I didn’t forget.”

  I press a hand to my heart. “No matter how many times I told her I’d be there, she was still worried I’d let her down. I want her to know that I won’t ever do that. I’ve got her back, Miles. And yours. Forever. Words won’t change what she thinks, but consistency and reliability will. She’ll learn that she can trust me.”

  He nods. Breathes through what I’m certain is his own uncertainty.

  Lyss’ mom walked away from him too. She didn’t just leave her daughter, but she left him and broke that trust. Words won’t fix that, but me being here day in and day out, being reliable, keeping my word… eventually, they’ll both trust.