Full House (Stacked Deck Book 4)

by Emilia Finn

  “Uncle B?”

  He nods toward us, even as Lyss hides behind my leg. “Charlie, meet Alyssa Walker. Alyssa is six, and she’ll be signing up for your school in the next week.” He pauses a moment. “Lyss and her dad are living here now, so that makes them…?”

  Charlie’s eyes flick from Lyss to Bobby. Back and forth. “Family?”

  “Bingo. And what do we do for family?”

  “We watch their back.”

  “Two for two, bud. So what will you do when school is back in?”

  “I’ll take care of her.” Charlie tries to peek around to my shy girl, and just like his uncle, extends a hand. “Hello, Lyssa. We’re family now.”

  I lift a single brow, take his hand, and squeeze just a little. He’s eight, but he needs to know who’s in charge when it comes to my girl. “Hi, Charlie. I’m Miles.”

  “Nah, you’re Iowa.” He flashes a wicked grin and squeezes back. Fuck me, he’s got the arrogance of a grown man. “Welcome to the family.”

  When he steps back and drops his hand, my eyes come up to… Dozens. Several dozens. Each of the Kincaid brothers step forward; Jimmy, Aiden, and their wives. Jon Hart comes next, then the Jackhammer himself. I shake each hand, accept their welcomes, and shield my daughter when she’s overwhelmed by their numbers. The younger fighters – my age – step in. Evie smiles for Lyss, to show her a familiar face, but it’s not until the dancer, Lucy, steps forward that Lyss chills out a little.

  “Hey there, Lyssa.” Lucy crouches in front of us. Her mahogany hair hangs loose, her smile broad and kind. “Welcome to our home. Are you hungry?”

  “Why don’t you wear a tutu, Miss Kincaid?”

  “Uh…” Lucy looks around, like someone else might have that answer. Then she looks back to Lyss. “I do sometimes.”

  “Why didn’t you wear a tutu when you danced at Christmas?”

  “Oh, because I didn’t want to.” She peeks around at our crowd, smiles toward her daddy, then comes back to Lyss. “Sometimes I wear a tutu. And almost always, I wear a leotard, but that day that you saw, I wanted to wear my fighter clothes.”

  “But… why? You weren’t fighting.”

  “Sure felt like I was.” She flashes a beautiful grin and finally straightens her legs. Stepping into Mac Blair’s side – her man, and my biggest competition in the fight world – she tilts her head to the side. “Ya know, I heard you like to dance.”

  Lyss nods.

  “Did you hear that I run dance classes now?”

  Lyss’ eyes widen as she shakes her head.

  Lucy’s smile is… wow. It’s happy. “I started teaching full-time just a couple months ago. So since you’re going to live here for a little while, maybe you could come.”

  “You would teach me?”

  “Sure.”

  “You would teach me to dance like how you danced?”

  Lucy nods. “Sure. It takes practice, it takes time and perseverance, but if you stick to it, you could do it.”

  Lyss turns to me and lifts a dark brow. “Persveerance?”

  “It means…” I think it through. “You know how when we’re scared, but we do something anyway? And that’s called bravery.”

  She nods.

  “Well perseverance is like something being difficult, but we practice and do it anyway. To persevere means to keep trying, even if it’s hard.”

  Awed, Lyss looks to Lucy and nods. “Okay. I can practice. I’m good at practicing.”

  Lucy laughs and nods. “Okay. When you’re settled in and ready, tell me and I’ll sign you up.”

  “Do you live here?” Lyss looks around the crowded room. “Is this your house?”

  “No, I live across town. But I’m here most days, and I’m at the gym all the time too, so I’ll see your dad. If you tell him, he can tell me.”

  “Okay!”

  “Come on in.” A woman with long, blonde hair, jeans that sit really fucking well, and bright blue eyes pushes through the crowd to take my hand. “Everyone has stopped you at the door. I’m so sorry for their lack of manners.”

  “Mrs. Kincaid.” Kit Kincaid, formerly Reilly, as in, The Jackhammer’s sister, and wife of Bobby for twenty or so years, pulls me through the crowd slow enough that my hand remains around Lyss’ without tugging her over. “Come to the kitchen, settle in, then you can be questioned.” She shoots a glare at some of the milling crowd. “Most of the people here tonight have no manners. Please don’t judge us all for that poor first impression.”

  “No.” Laughing, I move into the kitchen and pull Lyss to my hip when we find more people in here. More fighters, more… just more. Many of them are fighters I’ve met in the past, or they’re the children of fighters I’ve met – case in point, Bry Kincaid is Bobby and Kit’s firstborn son, and the almost twin of his dad. He’s not a hell of a lot younger than me, but he doesn’t get up from his seat at the counter as we come in. He sits beside two other fighters – twins – and eats a sandwich that overflows with gravy and… stuff. I can’t tell.

  “Bry, honey?” Kit stops behind her son and presses a noisy kiss to the back of his head. “You’ve met Iowa, right?”

  “Yeah,” he grunts around his sandwich and lifts his chin. “Sup?” But then he looks to Lyss and smiles. “Hello.”

  “Rob and Luke.” She does the same for the twin boys. Kisses. Squeezy hugs. “You’ve all met Iowa and Lyssa.”

  Rob nods and rewards me with a small grin that his brother doesn’t. “Hey. Savage fighter. I remember you.”

  “Hey.” I step forward and bump his fist when he offers it. “Good to meet you officially.”

  He nods, tilts his head to the left. “I live across the street, the house with the blue shutters. Call out if you need anything.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rob smiles for Lyss. Winks. “Hey, pretty girl.”

  She buries her face against my neck and chokes the life out of her bear.

  “Sorry,” I answer for her. “She’s loyal. When you’re in, you’re in. But until then…”

  “Gotta earn it.” He bobs his head. “Fair call. Welcome to town.”

  “Oh, Brooke.” Kit’s excited voice draws my eyes up until they stop on Brooklyn Kincaid.

  She’s her mom’s clone, long, blonde hair, tight jeans and all, as she wanders into the kitchen with a maroon daisy tucked above her right ear, and a pencil tucked above the left. Silver knitted sweater, a delicate chain around her neck, but her eyes… smoky makeup that makes my breath thicken. Fuck knows how that’s possible, but when her blue eyes lift, scan the room, and stop on me, my throat tightens, and my oxygen liquifies.

  “Oh, hey.” She grins, just like her mom, and crosses the room with the kind of hip-swinging slide that her cousins don’t do. The fighters – their walk is boxier, more direct and intimidating – but this chick’s hips swing and make me think of a dancing gypsy at the break of dawn. Seductive without trying, charming without meaning to be.

  She circles around behind Bryan, smacks his head forward when he sneakily tries to trip her, as brothers are apt to do, and stops in front of me and Lyss. She stands about six inches shorter than me, so she has to look up from beneath those thick lashes to catch our eyes. “Hey.”

  She holds a hand out for me to take, and when I do, I swear her skin on mine stings – and that someone in the room growls.

  “Hey. I’m Miles.”

  She grins and pops a single dimple in her cheek that sends a bolt of electricity straight through my chest. “I remember. We’ve all heard about the infamous Iowa coming back to town.” She releases my hand and looks to Lyss. “Hello. We’ve met before. Do you remember?”

  She shakily nods. “Miss Kincaid. With the puppy?”

  “That’s right.” Brooke grins. “I showed you Cass when she was almost ready to have her puppies. Good memory. Are you still four, Alyssa?”

  Lyss loosens up a little, pushes her chest out with pride. “I’m six.”

  “No!” Comically wide eyes,
Brooke shakes her head. “No way are you six! You were four the other day.”

  “Six.” She nods and shows off six fingers. “I had my birthday.”

  “I can’t…” Brooke shakes her head and sends me a fast wink when I smile. “I just can’t believe you’re six. That doesn’t make sense. That must mean you’re in…” She taps a finger to her lip. “Seventh grade?”

  “Kindy!” Lyss shouts and almost bounces out of my arms. “I start kindergarten soon.”

  “Does that mean you know Miss T?” She points to a raven-haired woman behind us. Britt Reilly – Jack’s wife. “She doesn’t teach kindergarten, but she taught me, did you know that?”

  Lyss peeks around behind us and shakes her head in silence.

  “It’s true,” Brooke says. “She taught me. She taught Miss Evie. And I think Lucy, too.”

  “Us too,” Luke – the other twin – says.

  “Worst year of my life,” Britt grumbles. “It’s hard to teach students you genuinely dislike, only to have to come home and eat dinner with them.”

  Luke flashes a grin that shows way too much of what he’s eating. “We kept you young, Miss T. Stop hating on us.”

  “When do you sign up to big school?” Brooke brings Lyss’ attention back around. “Do you know when?”

  Lyss shakes her head, shyness returning as she hugs me tight and presses her face to my neck. “Don’t know.”

  Brooke’s eyes come to me, so I answer.

  “Sometime this week. I think the office will be open and ready for registrations later in the week, so we’ll head up then and get it done. Then we’ll be set and ready to start our new adventure.”

  “Oh, I love adventures.” Brooke strokes Lyss’ knee for just a second, then she steps back and tugs the pencil from above her hair. “Well, welcome to town, Miles.”

  “Where are you going?” Kit’s smile turns to a frown as her daughter backs away. “Brooke? You’re not staying for dinner?”

  She reaches back to grab her hair and bring it over her shoulder. “No, I have some other stuff I wanna do. I already ate.”

  She turns to the fridge and brings out a gallon of milk. A glass from the cabinet. With the pencil between her teeth, she pours her drink right to the brim and holds captive her entire audience. Then, tossing the almost empty bottle back in the fridge, she turns to us with a beautiful grin that speaks of faeries and secrets and, well, adventure.

  She’s not like her family. She’s whimsical, while they’re hard.

  She takes the pencil from her mouth and does a kind of subtle curtsy. “I’m gonna go do some work, but I’ll be around.” She looks to me. “I hope you’re comfortable. If you need anything at any time, just stand on your porch and holler. Someone will hear you.”

  “Okay…” I swallow, watch in silence as she backs away and that single dimple pops.

  She leaves the kitchen with her hip-swaying seduction, and disappears like she was never here.

  I stare at the empty doorway for a full minute as everyone else goes back to what they were doing. Lyss lays her head on my shoulder, calms under the soothing circles I rub on her back, and because her breathing evens out when the attention is no longer on her, she helps me balance mine.

  “Hmm…” Evie wanders around to the fridge with a sly grin, only to stop when my gaze finally snaps away from the door. “That’s interesting.”

  “That’s…” I shake my head. “What?”

  She snags the milk and grabs a glass from the cabinet. “Nothing. Welcome to the family, Iowa. I think we’ll enjoy keeping you.” She looks to Lyss and extends the glass. “Want something to drink?”

  Fatherly instinct takes over, and the memory of a gypsy woman washes away the way I imagine the woman herself does as soon as the sun is up. I hug Lyss closer to my chest, and turn her away in protection. “No milk, no eggs, no wheat, no nuts.”

  “Shit.” Evie tugs the glass back and grits her teeth. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  “Please don’t forget. It’s really effing important you don’t forget.”

  I know it’s not up to these people to know my daughter’s allergies. Deathly or not, her medical issues are not their responsibility. So I vow to have the talk with Lyss again when we get back to our house. The talk we’ve had a million times already: you don’t accept food from anyone except Daddy, ever, under no circumstances. If you suspect someone has something that is dangerous for you, you run away and find Daddy.

  It hasn’t been a problem in the six years of her life thus far. Lorna and I are the only people Lyss has known. She’s had no daycare, no pre-school, no playgroups or play dates. But now we’re here, and our world is expanding. All of these well-meaning people will become trusted in my daughter’s eyes; add in school, and someone might offer a bite of their PB&J without thinking.

  Their lapse in thought could kill my child.

  “I’m sorry,” Evie murmurs. Seriously, she lowers her eyes in apology. “Truly. I’ll do better.”

  Miles

  School Prep

  The contract I signed with the Kincaids and the Rollin On Gym stipulates that I don’t start ‘work’ until school starts. That means I still have a week off with my girl for the first time, ever. It means vacation time without worrying about cashflow, because I was paid a relocation bonus, plus the first month of my salary in advance.

  With that cash burning a hole in my pocket, Lyss and I went shopping the day after we arrived in town. We bought groceries, and not just the plain-brand stuff because we had to count our pennies. I’ll always be a frugal man, I’ll never waste, but my girl asked for a sucker at the cash register, so my girl got a sucker.

  Lyss is forbidden from eating so much when we’re out and about. I swear, I had no clue, before I became a dad, how many of our daily consumables include wheat, milk, eggs, and nuts. She can never walk into a bakery and grab a donut or a croissant. She can’t grab a sandwich for lunch, or a milkshake at the local diner as a treat.

  Wheat, eggs, and milk are the annoying allergies, the kind that make her uncontrollably itchy and give her a stomachache if we mess up. They’re not deadly the way peanuts are. But since we’re staying away from one, we treat them all with the same seriousness. It’s not worth a lapse in judgment.

  My pocket always – always – holds two EpiPens that contain her life-saving medication. Epinephrine saved my daughter’s life when she was two and we rode on a public bus. Someone must’ve eaten a peanut butter sandwich on their way to work, my girl got that person’s seat, she held onto the handrail, and I didn’t wash her hands in time – a lapse in judgment. Within minutes of stepping off the bus, my girl’s lips were blue, her face was swollen, and just a second after that, she was unconscious and nearly took me to Heaven with her. CPR, EMT, hospitals. The reason we got on that stupid fucking bus that day – to visit the park across town as a weekend treat – never came to fruition. We never made it there, and for days after, she was in the hospital, under watch, to make sure the oxygen-deprivation didn’t do any lasting damage to her young brain.

  I swear to Christ, I hope to never repeat that day ever again.

  Which means two pens, always, without exception. Now that she’s enrolled at school, they have pens in stock, as does the gym I will start training in five days a week starting Monday.

  I’m not exactly in a position to make demands on the gym – I’m their employee, not the other way around – but medication is non-negotiable for me. It’s a hard rule, something I refuse to bend on. But being family men at the gym, my request didn’t receive so much as a blink when I added it to our contract. I used some of my bonus, dropped in to see Lyss’ pediatrician before we left home, to say goodbye and get extra scripts, then we got here, bought extra pens, and now they’re in stock everywhere that we’ll be spending lots of time.

  If she ever needs help, we’ll be ready. In the meantime, I have to be on guard and try to gently educate those around us who so often offer food.

  The contr
act I signed at the gym stipulates five days a week, six hours a day, which is actually on the lower end. Most tend to give a minimum of eight a day, and weekends, too. But I have a daughter to drop off at school, and to pick up again at three. To help with her homework, and to feed at night. So my contract says nine to three, five days a week, on the condition that I’ll maintain my fitness in my time at home. And if I suck too bad at this year’s Stacked Deck tournament – yes, “suck too bad” is in the contract they sent over – then I’ll be dropped and sent packing.

  All of this means my world is basically a one-eighty of what we know.

  In our old town, I was busting my ass beginning from three in the morning while Lyss slept. I worked out while she dreamed of ballerinas, ate what I could afford, and added my girl to my regimen when I needed to lift a little extra weight. I worked a day job that meant Lyss had to stay with Lorna, and when I got home at six, I had to train some more.

  Without that strict routine, I would never have been able to compete and win at Stacked Deck that first year. And without Stacked Deck, our lives wouldn’t be how they are now.

  “Daddy?”

  “Pick a bag, baby.” We walk through a store that stocks schoolbags. The selection isn’t huge, but it’s more than anything we used to be able to look at. “There’s one with unicorns?”

  In cute denim shorts and a Rollin On Gym tank that somehow ended up in her drawers at the house – the perfect size, at that – she clutches her doll to her chest and shakes her head. “I don’t like unicorns, Daddy.”

  “Blasphemy!” I turn on her and laugh. “You love unicorns!”

  “No I don’t,” she giggles. “I don’t like them anymore.”

  “So what do you like now?” I lift a foot, point my toes at a Care Bears bag on the lowest shelf. “Maybe?”

  She scrunches her nose and shakes her head. “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “Disrespect,” I grumble. “Everybody knows who the Care Bears are. Okay, how about—?” I point at a sky-blue bag with Elsa and Anna on the front. “You know who they are.”