Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,130

and she’ll get over it eventually.

But she won’t get over it. I know she won’t. And if I say those things, and he listens, I’ll be just another reason for her emotional trauma. To love her means to be selfless, right? To sacrifice myself to make her happy. So instead, I pull into the studio parking lot and cut the engine.

“Yes,” I murmur and draw his attention. “Yes, that’s what she’s gonna do. And that’s how it’s all gonna end. She’ll toss herself down to protect you, and she’ll die because of it. You’ll kill the man who did it, you’ll fulfill the prophecy they wrote for you ten years ago, and after all this, you’ll end up in a cell anyway. And… well, they’ll win.”

I slam my palm against my steering wheel. Once, twice, three times, until the entire frame of my truck bounces. “They’ll win. Whoever the fuck they are, whether it’s McGrady or someone else, they’ve been playing the long game, and in the end, they’re gonna win.”

“I should have let them take me when this began.”

“Yes.” I sigh. “No. Maybe. I have no fucking clue. I wanna say yes, but that’s just me being a selfish prick. But maybe the answer is no, because without you, she would have ended up in a foster home or some shit. That could have been hell for her.”

“So…” He looks around the parking lot, but I doubt he sees any of it. “Basically, we were fucked from the get-go. Some folks just aren’t meant to have a life, and though Bubbles deserves the best, she’s been saddled with some kind of bullshit karma that just won’t let her be happy.”

“Pretty much. Having Soph find your threat, and dealing with it, is all you have left now. Someone is gonna have to die… I just really hope it’s not one of ours.”

“I don’t know if…” He hesitates for a moment. “I doubt it means a damn to you, but if I had to choose any guy on the planet for her, if I was to give my blessing, it would be you. You love her more than you love yourself. You’re inserting yourself into this bullshit knowing it won’t have a happy ending, knowing she’s gonna hurt you over and over and over again. She doesn’t mean to hurt you. She’s not a cruel person. She just doesn’t have any good options laid out in front of her. But still, knowing all this, you’re here, you’re taking care of her, and you’re wishing desperately that there was a decent third option.”

“There might be,” I suggest hopefully. “There might be another option, and we just don’t see it yet. And yeah.” I meet his eyes. “It means something to me. What you think matters to her, so your approval means something to me.”

“In another place, another time, I guess that would make you my brother.”

His words are like a suckerpunch. A slam to the sternum that almost buckles me. His approval means something to me, but having it now, doesn’t change the facts. She’s not mine. She may never truly be mine. “Yeah,” I rasp out. “Guess so.”

“I’ve never had one of those.”

I snort, and look toward the studio. “Me neither. Are you ready to go in? For the next few hours, we can forget your troubles, and instead watch Q live her dreams. She didn’t get booted out of the studio yet, despite her smart mouth, so what’s the bet she’s dancing and helping the girls with their routine?”

“In another time,” he repeats on a low murmur, “another place, she could have been a star. And of all this bullshit, that might be the biggest injustice of them all.”

“Yeah.” I push my door open and slide out.

And despite the efforts Will has gone to to protect Quinn, it has never been quite enough.

And that’s its own special injustice for the man who has carried that weight on his shoulders his whole life.

Will and I watch the girls dance for hours. Sweat running, toes tapping, smiles that stretch faces until it looks painful. With Q’s arm in a sling that, at some points, is pushed away so she can use her arm, only for her to regret it a minute later and slide that sling back on, we watch the girls choreograph and pull off a dance that would make the pros jizz in their pants.

It truly is a tragedy that the professional dancing world might never know Quinn’s style, her