No Limits (Stacked Deck Book 5)

by Emilia Finn

  My chest heaves and clambers for oxygen. My eyes burn, and my throat thickens, but then I bring out the Padres ballcap, and gasp when he snatches it so fast that my survival instincts swear his swinging hand is coming to hit me.

  He pushes away, finally gives me a few feet of space, and in the shadows, he studies the hat, looking almost… religious about it. Like I’ve reunited him with his child. He studies the brim – bent and curved from years and years of the wearer setting it just right. He studies the slight fray of material on the edge of the brim.

  “I swear I didn’t do that,” I choke out. “It was already like that.”

  His eyes remain on the hat as he nods. “That was from when I was skating at my house and fell on my face. Hat saved me from gravel rash.” Finally, his softened gaze comes up to me. “But in exchange, I got a nasty case of whiplash. Couldn’t skate for a week.”

  “You skate?” I try to chastise myself for not sprinting away now that I’ve been released. “Like, rollerblades?”

  “Skateboard. We have a halfpipe in my driveway.”

  I frown. “Uh… okay. Of course you do.”

  He chuckles and turns the hat over to look inside. He runs his fingers over the name inside. Shaking fingers. Bowed shoulders. Then he turns the hat so I can see.

  “Your name?” I ask.

  But he shakes his head. “My grandpa’s name.” He turns it over, and taps the hat like it’s an old habit, then, looking toward the stars, he brings it onto his head and finally relaxes. His shoulders shrink, and the vein that stands out against his neck turns smaller. His hands stop balling, and his feet come together.

  I didn’t even realize he looked like he was ready to storm toward me. But now that he undoes it, I realize how close to danger I might have been.

  Swallowing, he looks into my eyes and gives a gentle nod. “Thank you. Thank you for not damaging it.”

  “I didn’t know it was special,” I murmur. “I wouldn’t have taken it if I knew how much it would hurt you.”

  He wrings his hands together and shows me, for what may be the first time ever, Bryan Kincaid unguarded. “You can keep that one.” He nods toward the top of my head. “It’s special too. But not like this one.”

  I reach up with slow hands and pull mine off. Nervously, I flatten my hair, smooth out the flyaways, and study the cap in my hands. It’s such a dark blue, it’s almost black. The brim is similarly rounded, and inside, it says Kincaid.

  “Why is this one special?” I look back up and meet his eyes.

  “My grandma gave it to me for my birthday a few years back. I like it, and I wear it to make her happy. But I wear this one,” he points at his head, “because…” He shrugs. “I feel like I have to. Like it’s really important I carry my grandpa around and show him the world he never got to experience.”

  He coughs, like he’s nervous. “It’s dumb, I know. But he never got to live his life. He was put here to work hard, to love hard, create a family, then he was gone again. So… I dunno, if I share his name and wear his hat, maybe he can live mine with me.” He waves me off. “I know. It’s stupid.”

  “I don’t think it’s stupid,” I whisper.

  “You don’t?”

  I shake my head. Reaching up, I finger the locket that hangs around my neck, and because it’s so small and delicate, he comes closer as I open it to reveal a picture of my mom.

  Bry stops so close that the toes of his boots touch my sneakers. He’s so tall that he has to fold a little, and because of that, his forehead almost touches the top of my head.

  “Um… I guess the sentiment is the same with my locket. My mom died a long time ago,” I explain, and then shrug. “She’s gone, but I’m not. And maybe, if she’s somewhere in the universe and wants to check in sometimes, she can do it through me.”

  He sighs. “You’re not actually a bitch, are you?”

  My eyes snap up to his. Strangely, his question seems to be sincere. His eyes say it is.

  “I try not to be,” I croak. “I’m flawed, just like everyone else is. But I try to be kind and fair. I did actually come to the track last week with the gossip about you in my head, but I wasn’t going to judge you.”

  “Until the first thing I said was piggish and rude?”

  Snickering, I release my chain, and nod. “Right. You kinda asked to be kicked in the nuts.” I swallow. “You really didn’t sleep with Jenna?”

  “She’s your best friend, so what I’m about to say won’t help you think better of me. But the thought of sleeping with Jenna Price makes me sick to my stomach. I’d have to be way too fucking close to her for that, and in my mind?” He grits his teeth. "Pretty on the outside doesn’t mean shit if you’re a two-faced cunt.”

  I bounce back with a jolt, like I’ve been hit by a bolt of electricity. “Bryan!”

  “I’m sorry.” He shrugs. He’s not sorry. “I’m not gonna lie.”

  “You talk to your mother with that mouth?”

  He chuckles. “Absolutely not. She’d beat the shit out of me.”

  “Do you have a daughter?”

  Now it’s his turn to jolt away. “Huh?”

  “That little girl from the gym. She looks a little like you, and when you walked in with her, she was holding on tight.”

  His grin now is… well, pretty, I guess. “She does look a little like me. The dark hair. Dark-ish eyes.” Then he shakes his head. “She’s my niece. She’s not actually blood-related to me at all, but the fact she looks like one of us is a nice perk.” He sighs. “I love her like she’s mine. And the thought of anyone fucking with my family…” He shakes his head. “I’ll take just about anything from anybody. I won’t even come looking for payback most of the time. Especially not if fists were involved, and we already got it out of our systems. But fucking with my family is just…” He ends his sentence with a pained grunt. “It’s unforgivable. My grandparents didn’t sacrifice everything just so some snooty bitch with a bad attitude can feel superior by picking at the people I love.”

  “Me?” I frown. “I’m the snooty bitch?”

  “I actually meant Jenna. But…” He shrugs. “If you’d asked me ten minutes ago, I probably would’ve agreed and said you were just as bad.”

  I bring a hand to my stomach. My time is running out. I’ve been gone ten minutes at least, and Jackson knows which direction I went. But still, I can’t walk away just yet. I can’t end this conversation when my gut says to stay.

  “And now?” I swallow. “What do you think now?”

  “That maybe we’re both misunderstood. Guilty by association. You choose shitty friends, and I tarred you with that same brush. And me…” He chuckles. “Well, perhaps I propagate and encourage misinformation. There’s a possibility that I’m obnoxious, and bored enough sometimes to start rumors just for the sake of it. I’m not a good person, Maddi. But I’m not a bad person either. I’m just…” He sighs. “Really happy to have my hat back.”

  “Maddi?”

  I snap my gaze to the left when Jackson’s voice carries above the crowd.

  “Maddi, you still in the bathroom?”

  I look back to Bry with wide eyes and a pounding heart. “Oh my god. Shit!”

  “What?” He completely disregards the panic that slams through my blood. “He’s a fuckin’ bitch.”

  He looks in the direction of Jackson’s voice, then back to me. Then he grins, massive and beautiful. “Ride with me? You don’t even like him anyway.”

  “What?” I hiss. “Are you insane?”

  “Certifiably.” He chuckles. “Ride with me, Maddi. Come find out what it’s like to ride with someone who actually wins.”

  I point in his face. Angry. Energetic. Baffled. And running on adrenaline. “You’re obnoxious. And I have to go.” I turn to run, only to come to a screeching halt when he grabs my pointing finger and yanks me back.

  I slam against his chest with a grunt, breathe in a lungful of his oxygen, shiver when his breath bathes my neck in long, warm
waves, then I stumble back again when he releases me.

  “Bry…”

  He flashes an arrogant grin. “You know where to find me.”

  “Maddi? Are you done, or what?”

  “Yep!”

  I turn away from Bry and fix my hat back down to cover my eyes. Then I sprint along the outside of the brick building, and skid into view a mere second before Jackson walks into the women’s bathroom.

  He stops on a dime, and turns to study me with narrowed eyes. “Maddi?”

  He looks into the bathroom, then back to me. “What… ?”

  “Sorry.” I rush to him, and tug him out of the bathroom so the women inside stop freaking out. I pull him back onto the dirt, and say nothing when he slings his arm over my shoulders. “There were no stalls left when I got here, so I went around back and went in the dirt.”

  “You…” He pauses. “You squatted to pee?”

  “Uh huh.”

  I try to bump his heavy body back in the direction of the cars and starting line, but he’s heavy like Bryan is. Tall and broad. It doesn’t surprise me that they continuously end up fighting each other on weekends. Jackson thinks he’s bad because he’s broad and has muscle. But Bry comes from a fighting family.

  That’s something that money just cannot buy.

  “Jackson,” I grunt and try to slow his steps as he approaches the corner of the building. “What are you do—”

  And yet, my resistance is useless, because he tugs me around to the darkness with a fast “Aha!”

  Nothing happens. There are no shouts or thudding fists, no cussing or grunts.

  At the silence, I open my eyes and study the empty space.

  Bry is gone. He’s the ghost again. The omen.

  “Jackson!” I snap to cover my complete confusion. “What are you doing? There might have been another chick peeing back here.”

  “I was just…” He frowns and leans further around, like he might find Bryan hiding in the shadows. “Sorry. I just…” His tense body relaxes a fraction, his arm loosens around my shoulders. “Nevermind. Come on. They’ve got me against Abercrombie in the first round.”

  He pulls me in close again, but it’s different from the commanding hold a moment ago. That was about dominance. This is… confusing.

  Jackson Price and I are not, have not been, and never will be a couple, so why does he think he gets to go further than a companionable arm on my shoulder?

  He bumps Bry’s hat a little off-center as he pulls me in for a weird side hug. He lowers his face, and buries his nose against my neck for just a second, but then he pulls back with an ugly scowl.

  He sniffs the air, and reminds me of a wolf in the wild, scenting the breeze, but what he finds isn’t pleasant.

  “What?” I try to sniff. “What’s the problem?” A young teen’s insecurities come rushing back. The black sheep, the outcast in a group that seemed so easily to fit. “I don’t smell. What’s the problem?”

  “It’s…” He scowls. “Nothing. Forget it. Come on; you’re gonna make us late.”

  Bryan

  Seven Minutes in Heaven

  “Dude!” Tuck runs at me the second I come around the far corner of the bathroom block. “Jesus, I thought it was gonna go down.”

  “We’re good. Come on.” I spin him back in the other direction without warning. At a brisk pace, we create distance between us and the guy that might explode if he finds out I spent time with his girl behind the bathroom. “She’s not a bitch.”

  “Who?” He basically runs to keep up. “Bry? Who’s not a bitch?”

  “Madilyn!”

  We weave our way into the growing crowd as Manda starts setting pairings up to race.

  “I saw her head to the bathroom. I decided to schedule a business meeting with her.” I turn to him with a shit-eating grin. “I guess you could say it was a surprise meeting.”

  “You dirty dog,” he chuckles.

  “We talked. Turns out she’s either a really gifted liar, or she’s not a total cow like I thought.”

  “Could go either way,” he muses, but ends it with a grin.

  “She’s not a bitch,” I repeat, stopping in the middle of a crowd of more than five hundred people.

  I stop and look to the starlit sky, then I come back to Tuck and bark out a laugh so loud that he jumps back. “She just changed the game.”

  “Oh shit,” he rumbles. “We were playin’ a game? I didn’t get time to prepare.”

  “Shut up.” I start walking again, and head in the direction of my car. “I thought I was going to have to torment her until she snaps and runs away.”

  He lifts a brow. “And now?”

  “Now?” I think about it. “Well… I’m gonna stick with the tormenting thing, because she’s beautiful enough to stare at, and so easily goaded. But now, my endgame doesn’t have to be about sending her running.”

  “Ooookay… so what’s the new endgame?”

  “Getting her the fuck outta Price’s bed, for starters.” My top lip curls back with disgust. “Maybe she ain’t a bitch, but her taste in friends is deplorable.”

  “Some people would say the same about my taste in friends.”

  I turn to him with a scowl.

  “Many have said that about my taste in friends.” He laughs. “And yes, they were insulting you. You’re such a nice boy, Chuck. Why do you hang out with that trash, huh?”

  “The fuck? Who calls me trash?”

  He snorts. “Jackson and his posse. Jackson’s mother. Maddi’s stepmother. They all have cars, Bry. Maybe they manufacture parts, but they don’t service them.” He flashes a wide smile and pops his thumbs back against his chest. “I save all the damsels, ya see. And because I have such charming manners, they squeeze my cheeks and tip me really well.”

  “You’re such a brown-nose,” I huff. “It’s disgusting.”

  He scoffs. “It’s called customer service. It’s called being entrepreneurial. And those old bitches with the cheek squeezes; they pay my bills.”

  “That makes you a whore.” I unlock my car when we finally reach it, and stop when I swing the door open. I meet his eyes, and feed off the adrenaline that pumps through my blood. “Tell me, Tuck. How does that make you any different than those young dudes who accept old lady money in exchange for a fast fuck?”

  He barks out a loud laugh. “I play with their sparkplugs, Bry. Not their clits. Now get in.” He pushes me into my seat, and rests on the window frame when I wind it down. “Nice hat, by the way. She gave it back?”

  I nod. “She’s not a bitch.”

  “Sigh.” He presses a hand to his heart and does an actual body-rolling swoon impersonation. “Love is in the air. And it ain’t even February.”

  I purse my lips and consider one of a million ways I can shut my friend up. Slamming him to the ground and smacking him on the jaw could be fun. Then there’s also the option of running him down with my car.

  But in the end, I only chuckle and start the engine. “Zip it, stupid. Behave yourself, and I might invite you to our wedding.”

  He freezes. Snaps his eyes to me. “Wait. What?”

  I wink. “I said what I said. Now get out of my way before Manda disqualifies me.”

  “Bry.” He refuses to remove his hands from my door, and though I roll the car forward, he walks with me. “Dude. Don’t play with that shit. This isn’t one of those dares you gotta go with just for the sake of saving face.”

  “Not a dare.” I flash my headlights when people stand between me and the starting line. “You’re not a Kincaid, so you can’t understand. But I’m gonna need you to get your mitts off my car now before I run you over.” I slam my fist onto his fingers, and laugh when he bounces back with a shout. “I have to race. But also… you’re up before me. You might wanna hurry the fuck up and get your bike.”

  “I’m what?” His gaze whips to the front of the line. To the single bike that sits and waits, and the empty space beside it where he should be. “Ah fuck!”


  He darts away on a fast, arm-pumping sprint, only to jump onto his bike and rev it so loud that everyone turns in his direction.

  I continue moving forward, and in my mind, I think about irony. I think about myth, and family stories passed down over the years. I think of my grandma, and though I never met the man, I think of my grandpa. I roll forward and leave my stereo on low, and think of my mom and dad. I think about how Daddy swears he saw a girl from across the room and he knew. He knew she was it for him.

  Mom claims he’s full of shit, and that it took until the first date for them to know. But I prefer the way he tells it.

  Distracted, I slam my foot to the floor when another car skids into the tiny space ahead of me and cuts line.

  “Fuckin’ Price,” I growl.

  He barely missed clipping some of the folks milling around the cars. Barely missed taking out my front bumper. He barely missed hitting Madilyn, as she approaches from the left and skips back a step when his wheels throw dust and dirt.

  She still wears my hat, but I see her eyes beneath the curved brim. I see her rage at his near miss.

  She stands all alone among a crowd of hundreds, but when Price presses his hand to the horn in demand, I slide my car into neutral and vow to teach this motherfucker some manners.

  “Stop.” Tuck’s hand slams to my doorframe like earlier. But this time, he sits on his bike and breathes heavily beneath his red helmet. “Stay in your fuckin’ car, Kincaid.”

  “He nearly hit her, Tuck!”

  “She’s fine.” He lifts the visor on his helmet and stares into my eyes. “She’s there, she’s fine, and she sure as hell didn’t cry out for you. She’s a stranger to you, Bry. Leave it alone.”

  “He could have hurt her,” I seethe. “Now he thinks he gets to blow his horn and demand attention like she’s a fuckin’ dog? That’s not how this is gonna work.”

  “She’s not yours, Bry! She has never been yours.”

  He turns to watch as she approaches Price’s passenger window. Much the same as how she came to mine last week, she folds at the waist and speaks to him through the window.