by Emilia Finn
“If the universe wants to fuck you up, then it will do so no matter the damn timing. Goddammit, Bubbles. Fuck!”
He spins away again and swipes a hand over his cheek. He hides his face from me as he walks laps of our small room.
“Are you mad because I missed curfew?” I whimper. “Or because I had sex? Or because babies come from sex? Which one is it, Will? What are you most mad about?”
“All three.” He spins back with red cheeks and swimming eyes. “All of them! Because at first, I worried you were dead. Then I found you, I had a second of relief where I wanted to fall to my knees and thank the universe for not hurting me like that. But then the next hit came. You’re not my baby anymore. You give yourself to a man, and you don’t give a fuck that that leaves me all alone in this world.”
“Will, no—” I step forward, but stop when a tear shimmers along his cheek.
“And then, after that hit, reality sets in. Actions come with consequences, Bubbles. Bad things happen, especially to people like me and you. So now you might have something in your belly, something that can’t be undone. And do you know what happens if you quit your job to take care of a baby?” He rips the hat from his head and tosses it at the bed. “We starve. You starve! Because I can’t look after you on my own, I can’t earn enough. I need your help to keep your head above water.”
Tears stream over my cheeks and onto my lips. “I don’t want you to take care of me. It’s not your job to support me.”
“It is my job! And I can’t do it. I can’t keep up. I’m trying!” he shouts. “I’m trying so hard, but everyone else is running faster than I can.”
“I’m not gonna get pregnant,” I cry out, “but even if I did, moms work all the damn time. Why are you panicking?”
“Because the day you go to a doctor is the day we get found out. They will take you from me. They will hurt you, they will break us. And when I come to get you back, they will make you watch as they hurt me. And that’s what will hurt you the most. They will use you to hurt me, and me to hurt you. Because the only thing we have is each other. They know that!”
“You carry too much worry.” I cross our small room and move into his space despite his hands trying to push me away. I wrap my arms around his waist, bury my face against his chest, and I cry with him. I cry because life fucking sucks. “You carry too much,” I sob. “You worry about the what-ifs, and they haven’t even happened yet. They might never happen, which means you hurt yourself for nothing.”
“It’s my job to take care of you,” he chokes out. “But I need you to meet me halfway and not put yourself into situations that could fuck us up. It won’t always be this way. I’m gonna win this year, I’m gonna get us out, we’re gonna find Nate and settle that shit, but for right now, for today, and tomorrow, and every day until we’re free, I need your help.”
“I’m sorry for being irresponsible.” I wrap my arms around him as far as I can manage, loop my hands together, and sob. “I’m so sorry, Will. But I don’t want you to make me regret tonight either.”
“He treated you right, right?” He pulls back and cups my face. “Bubbles?”
“He was perfect.” I sniffle and try to swipe my tears on my own shoulder. “He was a gentleman. He was gentle, and kind, and perfect. He tried to say no, he begged me to not ask for more.”
“But you did.” He releases my face and pulls me back in. I feel him shaking his head, even if I can’t see it. “Of course you did. Because you’re a pain in everyone’s ass, always pushing boundaries.”
“He was good to me. And we’re in love. And that’s good, right? It’s special.”
“It’s special.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “It’s definitely special.”
“I’m sorry for hitting you.”
“I’m sorry for my mean words.” He pulls back and swipes rough thumbs beneath my eyes. “You didn’t use protection, did you?”
Lie. Lie. Lie! Save us both the heartache, and lie. But I can’t. “We didn’t have any, but—”
“Fuck.” He pulls me back in and slams me against his rock-hard chest. “I’m gonna have to kill him, you know that, right? I hope you said your goodbyes, because you’re never gonna see him again.”
“I love him.” I give a watery laugh. “I am going to see him again, and if he’s damaged in any way, I’ll know it was because of you.”
“It’s my duty to hurt him, Bubbles. It’s literally in the big brother rulebook.”
“So when you finally get Olivia’s attention, you’re open to Ben Conner following the same rulebook?” I pull back and look into his eyes. “Fair’s fair, right?”
He rolls his eyes. “No, because I’m not an eighteen-year-old child. She’s not a child, either.”
I shake my head and swipe the tears from my cheeks. “Double standards are always so much fun. She’s a fighter’s sister, and a cop’s daughter.” I try to turn my shaking lips into a smile. It’s small and pathetic, but it’s there. “I’m gonna be standing on the side, you know? Front row when those guys come talk to you about touching what’s theirs.”
“Traitor.”
Groaning, red eyes, and shaking hands, Will pulls away and pretends he’s calm. He pretends we’ve worked through our troubles, he pretends he’s okay. But he’s not. Because my tears and declarations that Jamie is a gentleman can’t fix whatever is in Will’s mind. He’s already rushing toward worst-case scenarios.
“You and I both know I won’t get anywhere near Olivia,” he continues. “It’s impossible.”
“But you went to dinner,” I counter. “You ate at the same table.”
“Folks go to the Louvre every damn day.” His blue eyes meet mine. “Doesn’t mean they get to touch the Mona Lisa. She’s for looking, not for touching. And even my looking has to be discreet, because the second that cop gets a bug in his ass and starts tossing our names into his fancy computers…”
I want my brother to be happy. To be settled. Content. And without all of the worry he carries around for me. He made it his mission long ago to take care of my every need. But in exchange, I want him to be happy. I want to take care of him.
But maybe he’s right about this one.
“Maybe a cop’s daughter isn’t your best idea.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” He stops at the end of the bed and sits down with an exhausted grunt. “She’s a beautiful painting guarded by bulletproof glass and sneeze shields. I won’t get anywhere near her, so…” His eyes come to mine. “I look. Only a little bit. Then I move the hell on.”
“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things didn’t go down the way they did?” I clasp my hands together and walk across the room. “Can you imagine if we were middle-class kids from a middle-class family in the suburbs?” I sit down on the bed and wrap my arms around his so I can rest my cheek against his shoulder. “It’s such a foreign thought, huh?”
“You mean the suburbs where kids ride bikes in the street? Lemonade stands?”
“Girl scouts.”
He rests his hand over mine and sighs. “Tutors, and afternoon baking with moms who actually love us.”
“It’s so strange that such a regular dream is so foreign to us.”
“Mrs. Kincaid made us hot chocolate.” He tilts his head and rests his cheek on the top of my hair. “She stirred in extra cocoa, and gave me cookies to go with it.”
“It was nice, huh? She gave me extra marshmallows. And she didn’t say a word when I stole the bag.”
He snorts and blows strands of my hair forward. “There’s a certain kind of irony at play right now, ya know?”
“Yeah?” I frown and try to decipher my brother’s meaning. “I don’t get it.”
“The thief—”
I hook a thumb back at my chest. “As in me?”
“Mm. Had something stolen from her tonight.”
“Ugh.” I pull away and stand from the bed. “We’re not discussing that. I can’t talk sex with you.”
&nb
sp; “Yeah, well, I hoped to go the rest of my life without having to discuss it with you. But here we are, and I’m still pissed!”
The first day of fighting arrives for Stacked Deck’s second year of operation. Last year, I stayed in a hotel room with a sweet little girl. We watched Disney, snuggled in one bed, giggled when our toes touched, and then we slept until the next day, when I woke and found Miles asleep on his couch.
He didn’t wake us up. He didn’t send me back to my room. He simply rolled onto the lumpy fabric somewhere around four in the morning, beaten and bruised, fell asleep, and then he was awake again at six, because that’s what time Lyss woke, and he refused to miss even a single second of her time or attention.
This year, I finish getting ready in our hotel bathroom. I love my brother dearly. I really, truly do. But I shrug into the t-shirt Jamie gave me yesterday, I tie a knot in the bottom so that it fits me a little better, and reaching up, I work on my long hair so that it’s half up, half down, and the down pieces cover the marks on my neck.
Jamie marked me. He claimed me. He stole more than my virginity.
And thinking of him makes me warm all over.
The fight I had with Will was huge, but I don’t regret what Jamie and I did. I don’t regret a single second of it, because I was loved, I loved in return, and there isn’t a single person I’ve ever met where they didn’t regret the who, the where, or the when of their first time.
I waited longer, I saved it for someone special, and now I have that experience in my heart, locked away and kept safe for the rest of my life.
“Let’s go, Bubbles!” Will slams his heavy fist against the bathroom door and makes me jump. “We gotta move.”
“Two more minutes,” I call back. I tie an elastic around my hair, and snatch up the tube of mascara – Thanks, Mr. Han – I left sitting out. It’s a routine, a passage of sorts, that I always save the mascara for last. I bring the wand up to my eyes, stare into the mirror, and start swiping it onto my lashes.
I’m going to see Jamie. For the first time since I was torn from his arms last night. But I’m not sad, or scared, or pissed. I’m not nervous, or worried, or dreading what comes after this tournament wraps up for another year.
I’m excited to see him. I hope he opens his arms and welcomes me in, and when I stand on my toes and angle for a kiss, I hope he gives it as freely as he has since we began.
“Bubbles!”
“Ugh!” I jump and almost ruin my work. “Dammit, Will. I said two minutes.”
“It’s been three! You have one more to get out here, otherwise I’m coming in and dragging you out.”
Rolling my eyes, I finish up with two more swipes, I check myself in the mirror one last time, then I open the bathroom door and snatch up my coat while Will waits at the door leading outside.
“Dammit, Bubbles.”
“What?” I slide my arms into my coat and flick my hair out. “What’s the problem? I’m wearing a bra and everything.”
“You’re a Roller now, huh?” He looks at my shirt and shakes his head. “It’s that easy?”
“Stop pouting.” I zip my coat up and snatch my phone and bankcard. I’m not a purse kind of girl. I have no keys to cart around, no room access card. I don’t have insurance information, or a license. “If you get a shirt with your name on it, I’ll wear it. But until then…”
“Fuckin’ Kincaids.” He turns away and steps onto the balcony outside. “I knew I should have left you at home this year.”
“You’d have missed the shit out of me.”
“I’d learn to aim better. Let’s go.” He tugs me through the door and closes up behind us with a slam. The parking lot is half full as fighters start making their way to the tournament. “I want you to stay by my side all day,” he grumbles. “Don’t talk to anyone. Like, literally.” His eyes meet mine. “I’m being literal when I say that.”
“Okay.”
“I want you to cheer me on. Only me.”
“Okay.”
We make our way down the rickety steps and into the breeze.
“I want you to close your eyes always, except for when you’re looking at me.”
“Alrighty.” We cross the parking lot and stop beside our car. “I’ll be good.”
“You’re gonna go to him, aren’t you?”
When he unlocks the car, I slide in and laugh. “Yup.”
“Gonna cheer for him too, aren’t you?”
“That would be affirmative. I’ll probably kiss him a little too.”
“Fucker,” he growls.
Just minutes later, we pull into a parking space two blocks from the tournament venue – two blocks! As in, we may as well have just parked at the hotel and walked.
Climbing out of the car, I stop on the sidewalk and wait for Will to grab his bag, then we huddle in close and join the line of fighters making their way in the direction of what was once known as Club 188.
“You can’t hit him.”
Will snorts. “Okay.”
“You can’t murder him.”
“I know. He has cops in his pocket.”
“You can’t ground me, either.”
“Wanna bet? Shit’s gonna get heavy the moment we walk back through our apartment door.”
“Quinn!”
My head snaps up at my name. His voice. Jamie’s voice!
Will swings around and looks at me. “Quinn?”
Jamie stands at the front doors of the club in a hoodie with the same branding as my shirt. His hair is wet, his sweatpants a little too revealing, but his smile is so beautiful, I feel like it can’t possibly be real.
It can’t be for me.
“Don’t you dare run to him,” Will growls. “Don’t you fuckin’ do it.”
“Sorry!” I squeak and take off.
I bolt across the street, across the lot, shove past fighters, ignore Kincaids as they wait nearby, and bound into Jamie’s waiting arms so we slam together, and my laughter – my happiness – comes out on a cry. “I missed you.”
“Jesus.” He holds me up and presses a noisy kiss to my cheek. My lips. My chin. My forehead. My eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here today.”
“He tried to send me to a nunnery. He would if he knew how to find one and start the application process.”
“Thank god he didn’t.” He kisses me again. My lips. Soft, but hard. Noisy, but passionate. One arm wraps around my waist, the other hand goes to my hair and holds me to him. “I swear, I barely slept last night. I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”
“He was mad,” I admit between kisses. “But he’s a reasonable guy.”
Jamie pulls away and studies my eyes.
His mom stands just a few feet away. His dad. His cousins. We’re putting on a show for them all as Evie ticks fighters off a list and lets them through the door. But our words are quiet. Just for us.
“Are you sore?” he whispers. “Are you…” He gives a subtle nod. “You okay?”
“Everything is okay. I promise.”
“You gonna be in my corner today?”
“Of course.” I pull back, let him hold all of my weight, and unzip my coat. “I’m wearing your brand.”
“Fuck.” He pulls me back in and presses a kiss to my lips.
“Mrs. Kincaid.” Will arrives somewhere in my peripherals and drops a quick kiss on her cheek. He shakes Mr. Kincaid’s hand. Then he turns to us and growls. “Get down, Bubbles. Or I’ll tie you to a tree and let woodpeckers bite you.”
“He has a way with words,” Jamie jokes. “He paints a picture.”
“He does.” But because I don’t want a war, I unwrap my legs and slide down Jamie’s body until my feet touch the ground. “He should write children’s books.”
“Kincaid.” Will steps closer with fury in his eyes. A ticking jaw. A chest filled with adrenaline. But he offers a hand. “I’m not gonna murder you.” He slowly slides the bag from his shoulder and offers it to me. “I’m under strict orders not to murder yo
u.”
“Oh… well…” Jamie’s wary eyes flick to me, then back to Will. “Okay.” He reaches out for Will’s hand.
I take Will’s bag and swoon at these two men getting along so well after their last – tense – sendoff. But then I’m swung away, my feet leave the ground, and my eyes land on Miles’ as he tugs me around and places his back between me and my brother.
Will feints like he’s going to take Jamie’s hand, but instead, he slides forward fast as a snake, and slams his fist into Jamie’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the snow-covered ground, and his mother jumping back with a squeak.
“You’re still alive, motherfucker!” Will stands over Jamie and shouts. “You ain’t dead.”
“Will!” I try to escape Miles’ hold, to throw myself over Jamie and protect him. “Stop it!”
“You’re still awake, you fuckin’ thief. And now you know who’s in charge.”
“Leave it.” Mr. Kincaid grabs his wife when she tries to step in. “We all have to pay the price eventually. It’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“Ow.” Jamie groans and lays in the snow. He doesn’t even try to get back to his feet. He reaches up, flexes his jaw, and closes his eyes. But he smiles. “I had that coming.”
“Yeah, bitch!” Will balls his fist again in threat. “You had that coming.”
“Will!” I use all my strength and try to break Miles’ hold. “I said no hitting, too!”
Jamie’s eyes crack open and stop on my legs. On my hips. My belly, exposed to the cold now because of how Miles restrains me. And then my eyes. He shows off a crooked smile with teeth coated in blood and a jaw that’s already bruising. “Worth it.”
“Fucker!” Will throws himself at Jamie like he’s The Rock – The Rock from the 1990s.
“How do you feel?” I stand at the cage door, just ten or so feet from where Will waits with a mean scowl, and prepare to watch Jamie fight in a professional bout for the first time ever. “Are you ready? You’ve trained hardly at all this week. How’s your head?” I cup his jaw gently where Will hit him. “Do you think you should sit this one out?”