Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,129

she needs to be called on it. If what she said was fair, then Soph would have taken it on the chin and moved on with her life.”

“So which was it?” Will asks. “What did Bubbles say?”

As a group, the three of us shrug.

“But she didn’t die,” Spence adds. “We’d know if she did, so you’re set for your happy little reunion in about…” He checks his watch. “When I finish eating.”

“That was our dinner for tonight,” I growl. “Ass. My mom made that for us.”

“Fight me for it.” He sets down his bowl, and spins the fork in his hand so it’s no longer a utensil, but a weapon. “Winner takes all.”

“Shove it up your ass. You guys can finish up here. Will.” I cross the kitchen and snag my keys from the hook by the door. “I’ll take you to her.”

“Yup.” He jumps up from the stool without so much as a goodbye for the others. He grabs a hat from on top of his bags, checks his pockets for his wallet and phone, then he follows me outside and past the rental to my truck. “Not your SUV?”

“Rental.” I climb into my side of the truck, and wait for Will to climb into his. “Soph had it organized for me, but she hasn’t said anything about returning it yet. You can probably use it while you’re in town if you want. I’m done with it.”

“Thanks. I might take you up on that.” He sits back in Giselle’s usual seat, and relaxes as we amble out of my driveway and onto the road. “How is she?”

“Emotionally stunted.”

He snorts. “Yeah, I got that. I mean how is she otherwise?”

“Emotionally unavailable. Oh.” I look to him and purse my lips. “You meant physically. She’s fine. Her shoulder needs medical attention, like, weeks ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if she needs reconstruction at this point. She hurt her hand a couple nights ago while fighting in a bar. Her feet may be a little tender, you know, from all the kicking-me-in-the-face she did.”

He turns away to hide his smile.

I shrug. “She’s fine. She’s just… she’s Quinn. She rolls with whatever is happening in her life, and she jokes it all away, because that’s her defense mechanism. But she’s looking for an out, so when you run, she’s going with you.”

“She said that?”

I scoff. “Not to my face. But it’s the truth, isn’t it?” I slow at the railroad tracks leading into town, and after I check to make sure no trains are coming, we amble across in my squeaky truck. “She’s gonna run with you. Which means it’s time for me to prepare.”

He frowns and turns to me. “Prepare?”

“To lose her.” I sigh. “She’s not mine, she can never be mine. At least this time, I’ll have a few days to prepare for my loss. But, uh…” I chew on my bottom lip for a moment to stop the hurtful things I want to say to him. Things like ‘fuck off’ and ‘never come back’. “If you decided to stay, she would stay. I think, if she had no reason to leave, she could be happy with me. She would choose happiness for herself if she wasn’t so afraid for you.”

Will swallows and sends his Adam’s apple bobbing as we turn onto Main Street. “I didn’t intend for any of this to happen, Jamie. I didn’t kill Nate, I didn’t ask to be put onto wanted lists. I’ve never met Evan McGrady in my life. And while his wife dying sucks, that wasn’t on me either. I’ve never killed a person in my life, but I’m wanted for that crime.”

“It’s really fuckin’ unfair.”

Nodding, he studies the street in front of us. “It’s really, really unfair. The irony is, if I’d cut a deal back when they first picked me up for it, if I’d said Yup, cuff me, take me away, I’m sorry for what I did, it’d almost be time for parole.” He looks to me with pure torment in his eyes. “It would almost be over, Bubbles would be free, and in just a little more time, I’d be free too. Instead, not only am I not free now, but each day that passes, my sentence is being lengthened. They’re gonna send me somewhere far away and have me killed, and when Quinn follows and throws herself down to save me, they’ll kill her too.”

Fuck off, then, and leave, my brain screams. Don’t tell her where you’re going. Disappear,

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