Busted (Stacked Deck Book 11)

by Emilia Finn

  “Right. Um…” I cough and move forward to meet Mom at the counter.

  She carried me in her stomach. She tore her body to pieces to bring me into this world, she nurtured my brother and I every minute of every day. Sure, Dad was there every single minute as well, but she and I were one. For a while, we were one, so I speak to her, I seek her approval, and – when I’m done spilling my guts – perhaps a fucking hug and her promise that everything will be okay.

  “Grace wants to do the testing. We both know there are risks, but she wants the test.”

  “And do you?” Dad asks. He stops close by my side and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Do you want the testing?”

  “I… I don’t know what I want. There are reasons for and against. But it’s all happening so fast, I don’t have time to think. Grace… um…” I pull in a deep breath and try so fucking hard to swallow down my grief. Somehow, for some reason, I’m already grieving this baby. “She’s already decided, and she’s not really interested in my opinion on the matter.”

  “Bitch,” Mom hisses.

  “Hey!” I tug the image away and scowl when she glances up. “No matter what happens from here on out, she’s my baby’s mother, so we can’t—”

  “She should care what you think, baby! She should at least give you a chance to—”

  “I was the one who spiked the punch at prom!” Em shoots a hand into the air and declares herself our bad guy. She looks to Bobby and uses those baby blues she inherited from her mother as a defense. “You remember that time Rob got home and puked his guts up all over the place? When you made him clean both houses? That was me. I stole the alcohol from our house and got a hundred teenagers a little bit drunk that night.”

  “Emma Katherine!” Kit admonishes. “We got so mad at Rob for that.”

  “I know, Mom! I’m sorry.”

  “So Grace isn’t asking your permission about the testing?” Bry inserts and drags our attention his way. “She’s going ahead?”

  “Right. She’s in charge around here.”

  “If you did get to choose, what would you choose?”

  “Uh… I’m not sure. Maybe I would still agree to it. It would be helpful to know what to expect, but the risk is also scary.”

  “So she’s not a monster.” Bry looks to Mom. “She’s calling the shots. But her choice is still probably what he would choose.”

  “I don’t like that she’s not even giving him a voice,” Mom growls. “I don’t like that she’s pushing him out.”

  “I was the one who accidentally broke Uncle Aiden’s windshield.” Again, Emma thrusts her hand into the air. “It was me! But Rob was right there, so you all assumed it was him.”

  “I made him mow my lawn for a month,” Aiden growls. “He did the crime, and didn’t have cash to pay me back, so I made him work for it.”

  “It was me,” Emma murmurs and lowers her arm. “He’s always saying my crimes were his, so then you all got to assume I was an angel. He’s a Hart twin, which meant you’d already made assumptions, so he didn’t really have a reputation to lose. He was always taking the rap for me.”

  “You can mow my lawn for the next month,” Aiden declares on a low rumble. “Then you can do Jon and Tink’s too, as apology.”

  Em’s cheeks flame, but she nods and accepts her punishment.

  “When are the tests?” Kit asks and brings us back to the point.

  I know what Em is doing. She’s not trying to derail my news or garner attention, rather she’s throwing up road blocks each time Mom is ready to blow. Not a permanent distraction; just enough to extinguish the flames of revenge.

  “Rob?” Em’s mom repeats. “When is Grace having the tests?”

  “Um… next week,” I answer hesitantly. “Late next week. They don’t have the equipment here to do them, so she has to go into the city to see a specialist.”

  “She has to go?” Mom queries with suspicion laced in every word. “Or you both have to go?”

  “Well…” I glance back to Em; for comfort, or for her next declaration, I’m not sure. “I want to go. And no matter what she says, I probably will anyway. I’ll just be in the waiting room. But she wants to go with her mom. She said she doesn’t want me—”

  “She doesn’t want you there?” Mom explodes. “She just gets to choose—”

  “I was the one who blew up the pet food factory!” Em shouts. “It was me!”

  “What?” Bobby spins on his daughter this time. “The fuck, Emma!”

  “It was an accident!” she cries out. “We were screwing around and ended up in some machine room late at night. We snuck out through the gap Smalls made in the fence, then the twins and I wanted to check the factory out.”

  “How the hell do you blow up a building?” Tina demands. “That wasn’t just a small fire, Em – which, by the way, would still have been bad. You removed the entire warehouse from existence, and when it was all done, there was a crater left where the factory used to stand. Grass still doesn’t grow there!”

  “Something to do with gas,” Em murmurs with quivering lips. Quivering, yes, though, I suspect they’re quivering not from fear, but laughter. “I flipped a switch by accident. I didn’t know how to turn it off, which makes sense, since I wasn’t entirely sure how I turned it on. But shit started to smell funny straight away, so we booked it outta there.”

  “Gas, Emma!” Kit shoves her husband out of the way and stands toe-to-toe with her daughter. “That smell was gas, you dummy! Then you just let it go? Like, no biggie, let’s just let the entire fucking warehouse fill with flammable gas?”

  “Well, in my defense, I was a child, and my frontal lobes were not yet fully developed. I didn’t know how to control my urges.”

  “Funny,” Kit snarls, “I’m struggling to control my urges right now. You’re lucky we have company, Emma Katherine, or I might beat your damn ass. You’re lucky you didn’t die!”

  “We almost did,” Luke snorts. “There must’ve been some machine on a timer, because we were hauling ass outta that place, we’d barely made it out the front doors when we heard it. The click, the machine powering up, then boom! Em didn’t have to shave her legs that summer.”

  “I’m going to kill you all,” Kit snarls. “Starting with my own daughter, and ending with her idiot accomplices who never had the balls to tell her she’s being stupid.”

  “Oh nah, we told her,” Luke chuckles. “We told her all the damn time. But see, she’s cute, and there was no way you’d all have believed us if we snitched anyway.”

  “I told the cops it was Bry and Jamie,” Iz whispers past the hand she holds over her mouth. “I assumed it was Bry—”

  “You tossed me to the dogs?” Bry exclaims. “The fuck, Aunt Iz!”

  “I told the cops it was Evie,” Tina says with a smile. “I totally assumed you were all covering for her.”

  “Mom!” Evie explodes. “It wasn’t me. And what the hell is going on right now with all the snitching? We don’t do that around here, remember?”

  “We all snitch,” Aiden murmurs. “Every one of us. Because we’re parents, and knowing the truth was always more important than a code of conduct that my daughter, who was a toddler at the time, declared that we all had to adhere to.”

  “Biggie!” Evie admonishes and shakes her head. “You disappoint me.”

  Scoffing, Aiden looks to the toddler on Evie’s hip and lifts his chin. “If Bry finds out Wes is lifting cars and blowing up buildings?”

  “Then he’d better tell me,” she demands, “so I can whoop my son’s ass and show him who’s boss.”

  Aiden only grins and glances away. “Exactly.”

  “Great. Now that Em has once again derailed us all,” Dad grumbles and brings us back to him. “Finish it out, Rob. Tell us the rest.”

  “Wait, what rest?” Em’s voice lifts a few octaves. “I thought we’d hit the worst of it. The pet food factory was my biggest declaration of guilt!”

  I look over my shoulder and stud
y her eyes. They’re bright, when they weren’t when she first walked in. She’s having fun tossing herself under the bus today; perhaps she feels lighter from purging her soul of past transgressions.

  “Um…” When her eyes meet mine and dim, I turn back to Mom and swallow. Because this is gonna get so much worse before it gets better. “The tests are to find out if the baby is fine, right? To make sure he or she is healthy and…” I lift my hands and do the finger quotes. “ ‘Normal’.”

  “Right.” Mom’s tone turns darker, slower. She knows it’s coming. She knows it’s gonna be bad. “If your baby needs a little help, then we’ll help. If Grace needs a bigger support system, then she has one right here. She’ll never have to do it alone.”

  I shake my head and spare a glance over my shoulder to Em. “Um… the testing will tell us what’s wrong—”

  “If there’s anything wrong,” Mom argues. “If!”

  “Yeah, well, that if covers a lot of ground. The baby could be unviable—”

  “Oh no,” Em whimpers from behind me.

  “Or it could be viable,” I continue, “but still have problems.”

  “So we help!” Mom snaps. “I just said we would help.”

  “If the baby is, um… anything other than what Grace deems perfect, then she’s not…” My words catch, and my throat closes up when Mom’s tears spill over. “She won’t keep the baby, Mom. She doesn’t want that.”

  “What does that mean?” Alyssa steps into our huddle and looks up at me with eyes that remind me she’s only a child. She acts grown, and at this point in her life, she might just be independently wealthy, thanks to a publishing deal Brooke penned for her. But she’s just a baby. And she has a child in her class that all of this directly reflects. “She can’t give it back, right? Babies can’t be given back.”

  I look to Mom. Then to Brooke and Iowa with a plea that they save me.

  Brooke steps forward and takes her daughter’s hand, and crouching down, they whisper amongst themselves for a minute, but I don’t get a chance to listen in, because Em’s hitching breath snags my attention.

  I turn, and catch her crying such big tears that they spill over her cheeks and soak her shirt. “She would just… she wouldn’t even give you a choice? There could be a Rob Hart in the world, someone’s best friend, someone’s soulmate, but she just says no and turns it off?”

  “Baby.” Kit steps into her daughter’s space and pulls her in for a hug. “Sweetheart, it’s—”

  “It’s not fair!” she snaps. “It’s just… that can’t be allowed. It can’t be!”

  “We don’t get a choice,” Kit says. “This is between Rob and Grace. And really… Rob doesn’t get to choose either.”

  “But that’s not fair!” Em shoves out of her mom’s embrace and stands taller to face me. “Make her finish what she started, Rob! She wanted this. She’s wanted it since seventh grade. But now she thinks she gets to choose?”

  “Emma,” Bobby tries to step between us. “This sucks, I get it. But this isn’t about you, honey. You don’t get to make it about you.”

  “It is about me!” she roars. “She wanted him because he was my best friend. She wanted him because he wasn’t available. She has never made it a secret she wanted to be with him, Daddy! And now she’s having his baby.” She flicks his hand off her shoulder and pokes an accusing finger toward me. “He says he didn’t mean for this to happen, but I guarantee she did. Having his baby means she gets everything she’s ever wanted! She can shit on me, she gets Roller money, and she gets Hart for a last name. As if this isn’t all of her dreams come true.”

  Anger bristles and zings along my spine. And right behind that anger is hurt.

  “Right, because my name, your family money, and the chance to annoy Emma Kincaid are the only reasons someone would want to be with me, right?”

  “As far as Grace is concerned,” she demands. “Yes! She gets the hat trick, and still ends up with a really fucking amazing guy.”

  Well, maybe this could have been us! I shout in my head. Maybe if we talked more about what’s important, and less about who we don’t like, it could have been us heading to an ultrasound appointment.

  But of course, I can’t say that shit. So I settle on, “I don’t get to change what happened, EmKat. This is my reality now, and I didn’t come here to argue with you, nor will I explain myself to you. I came here to share my burden with people who love me.”

  “Yeah. And I love you the most.” Em’s words are a feral snarl, a direct contradiction to what she’s saying, and she follows them up by turning on her heels and storming out of the room. “It’s my turn to save you now, Fart. Sit down while I take care of business.”

  “Where’s she going?” Bobby hesitantly takes a step toward the door. “Little Bit? Where are you going?”

  She doesn’t answer, but a second after she leaves the room, the front door slams. And seconds after that, her car door closes, and the roar of her engine rocks the house.

  “Oh fuck,” Luke gasps. “She’s gonna blow Grace up.”

  He bolts away from me so fast that I rock on my heels. He zips around Mom and Dad, sidesteps Bobby, and storms through the front door.

  “Aren’t you gonna follow them?” Mom asks. “You’re her usual sidekick.”

  I probably should. Because honestly, the chances she’s going to terrorize Grace are pretty high right now, but Luke is following, and I’m not sure I have the energy for another fight.

  So I shake my head and stumble toward the counter to sit down. Dropping my face into my hands, I breathe and try to remain upright. “I’m tired, Mom. I’m tired right down to my bones.”

  “It’s gonna be alright.” Dad steps forward and rests his hand on my shoulder to squeeze. “Babies are scary, and your circumstances…” He exhales something deep and painful that calls from the past. “Yours is extra scary. But it’ll work out.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” I rasp. “If she doesn’t want the baby, then that’s the end of it. I don’t get a say.”

  “Rob…”

  “And if she keeps the baby, then I’ll be tied to someone I don’t particularly like for the rest of my life.” I roll my head in my hands and glance to the side until I catch sight of Dad’s jaw. “I’m fucked either way.”

  “And this,” Jack looks toward his children, and uses my misery as a teaching moment, “is why you practice safe sex, kids. Make good choices.”

  “Shut up, Jack.” Kit spins out of the room and goes to the living room window.

  Looking for the mushroom cloud from Em’s explosion, no doubt.

  Emma

  Bearer of Bad News

  Uncle Jack and Bry and Rob all made me promise to never again race my car at Piper’s Lane. But not one of them said anything about speeding through the streets of town with a heart full of rage and a lead foot that’s going to result in me being thrown in jail for the night.

  Which means I’m riding that loophole for all its worth and skidding from one street to the next.

  My wheels scream against the road, and the smell of burning rubber seeps into the cab of my car so that my nostrils widen and my heart beats faster. It’s not an unpleasant smell. On the contrary, it eggs me on and makes me more determined to reach where I’m going.

  In this small town, most everyone knows where everyone else lives, and though that’s not the rule for everyone, it sure as hell is the rule tonight, considering I made it my business to know a long time ago.

  When I find the right address and make note that all of the lights are on inside Grace’s apartment, I skid to a stop and take up one and a half parking spaces with my bad positioning. I shove my door open and snag the keys before I forget them and lock myself out, then jumping out of the low car, I storm across the blacktop and hurdle a row of low bushes that may or may not be roses in the summer.

  I’m wearing jeans, and shoes that will work just fine for kicking a bitch’s face in. The only thing saving Grace is that she’s pregna
nt, which means I won’t touch her at all, but I still slam my palm against the glass door at the front of her building, and take my aggression out on inanimate objects rather than her stupid skull.

  I sprint up one flight of stairs, then another. My breath races, not from exertion, but from readiness. I crest the third flight in fight stance, but slow at the voices I hear through thin walls. My adrenaline screams that I smash the door down – or hell, the whole wall – but the voices bring me up short.

  “I don’t know!” Grace’s voice is loud, mean, and frustrated. “I’m sick of having this discussion. The doctor said we need more tests. But if there’s something wrong, then I don’t want it. I know my limits, okay? I know what I want.”

  I think, for just a moment, that perhaps Grace is on the phone. I see her in my mind, pacing her kitchen with one hand holding the device, and the other massaging her stomach where my best friend’s baby grows. It’s easy to see, but maybe that’s because we were just in Jon and Tink’s kitchen, having the exact same discussion.

  “If this baby is special needs,” Grace continues, “Then I don’t want it. I’m not a monster, okay? I just know my limits. I know what I can and can’t handle.”

  “We would help you,” I growl under my breath. “Hell,” I ball my fists. “Give the baby to us, and you won’t ever have to change a diaper.”

  “I never wanted this,” Grace’s voice trembles. “I never wanted this to happen.”

  “Neither did I,” a man’s voice finally responds.

  My spine snaps straight, and my balled fist flops open from shock.

  “I can’t afford all of these tests, Grace. But I’m trying, okay? I’m doing my best.”

  “I’m not asking you to pay,” she exclaims on a huff of impatience, like this is something she’s said a million times already. “Rob is covering it. But after we get the tests next week, we’ll know anyway. We’ll get the answers we need, then we can make choices from there.”

  “You mean you can make choices,” the guy says. “You’re not giving me a chance to speak.”