Full House (Stacked Deck Book 4) Read online

  FULL HOUSE

  STACKED DECK BOOK FOUR

  EMILIA FINN

  FULL HOUSE

  By: Emilia Finn

  Copyright © 2020. Emilia Finn

  Publisher: Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd.

  Cover Design: Amy Queue

  Editing: Bird’s Eye Books

  Cover Photography: Eric McKinney/612 Photography

  ISBN: 9798653994777

  This Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This Book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy.

  To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected]

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of Emilia Finn’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  www.emiliafinn.com

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  Contents

  Also by EMILIA FINN

  Looking To Connect?

  FULL HOUSE

  Prologue

  1. Miles

  2. Miles

  3. Miles

  4. Miles

  5. Brooke

  6. Miles

  7. Brooke

  8. Miles

  9. Brooke

  10. Miles

  11. Brooke

  12. Miles

  13. Miles

  14. Brooke

  15. Miles

  16. Brooke

  17. Miles

  18. Brooke

  19. Miles

  20. Brooke

  21. Brooke

  22. Miles

  23. Brooke

  24. Miles

  25. Brooke

  26. The Finale

  Acknowledgments

  Also by EMILIA FINN

  Looking To Connect?

  For the pizza delivery man that still delivers to my door during the apocolypse.

  My family thanks you.

  Also by EMILIA FINN

  (in reading order)

  The Rollin On Series

  Finding Home

  Finding Victory

  Finding Forever

  Finding Peace

  Finding Redemption

  Finding Hope

  The Survivor Series

  Because of You

  Surviving You

  Without You

  Rewriting You

  Always You

  Take A Chance On Me

  The Checkmate Series

  Pawns In The Bishop’s Game

  Till The Sun Dies

  Castling The Rook

  Playing For Keeps

  Rise Of The King

  Sacrifice The Knight

  Winner Takes All

  Checkmate

  Stacked Deck - Rollin On Next Gen

  Wildcard

  Reshuffle

  Game of Hearts

  Full House

  No Limits

  Bluff

  Rollin On Novellas

  (Do not read before finishing the Rollin On Series)

  Begin Again – A Short Story

  Written in the Stars – A Short Story

  Full Circle – A Short Story

  Worth Fighting For – A Bobby & Kit Novella

  Looking To Connect?

  Website: www.emiliafinn.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EmiliaBFinn/

  Newsletter: https://bit.ly/2YB5Gmw

  Email: [email protected]

  The Crew: https://www.facebook.com/groups/therollincrew/

  Did you know you can get a FREE book? Click here for Bry and Nelly’s story: BookHip.com/DPMMQM

  FULL HOUSE

  STACKED DECK BOOK FOUR

  EMILIA FINN

  Prologue

  “Come on, Lyss. We have to go.”

  “Miles.” Every rushed step I take through my home, every time I toss something into a red and blue striped bag to bring with us, Lorna follows on my heels and tries to unpack it. “You cannot leave.”

  “Lyss!” I look into the hall. “Baby! You have two minutes.”

  “Okay, Daddy! I’m coming.”

  “Miles!”

  I spin fast as a snake when the woman grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop. “Take your hands off of me. Right now.” I snap my arm from her grasp and try to rein in my anger. I look the woman up and down – mid forties, barely a wrinkle or indicator of age in sight, she wears cream lounge pants, and a blouse of deep purple with pearl buttons. “Get your hands off of me. Get out of my fucking house.” I lean in closer and snarl, “Leave us the hell alone.”

  “You can’t leave!” she hisses right back. Her lashes are long – unnaturally long – and her thin, matronly lips show remnants of the red lipstick she applied this morning. “You have absolutely no reason to leave here, Miles.”

  “I have every reason to go.” I turn away and snatch up Lyss’ Cabbage Patch Doll from the couch. I toss it into my bag and keep going. “I have a job elsewhere, I have a chance to do something good for me and my daughter. I’m not giving this up.” I stop and turn back. “For the first time since I found out about Lyss, I’m doing something for me, and it’s gonna be amazing for us both.”

  “You can’t just take her!” Her voice rises from commanding to panic. “Miles, you can’t take my baby.”

  “She’s not your baby! She’s mine.”

  “But…” Her lips wobble. “Karla.”

  “Is never coming back! Jesus, Lorna, she’s been gone for six years. Take a fucking hint and start living your life. She’s not coming back.”

  “She could. Miles, she could.” She dives forward with tears streaming over her smooth cheeks. “We just have to keep trying. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Six years, Lorna! Six. Alyssa doesn’t even know who Karla is. She wouldn’t recognize her in the street.”

  “She’s… she…” She swallows. “Of course she knows! She would know right away.”

  “No, you would know. And you’re clinging to Lyss like she’s some kind of replacement for your daughter. They’re not the same. They’re not even close to the same. You’ve had six years with Lyss. I stayed, I did everything you wanted. But now it’s time to go. Lyss.” I swap my scowl for a smile and rush to my girl as she comes into the hall. “Are you ready?”

  Alyssa clutches to her doll – purple and white, with yellow straw hair, and a purple bonnet sitting atop her head – and squeezes the life out of her.

  Lyss has an addiction of sorts to stuffed toys. Bears, dolls, marine life or care bears, so long as its belly is filled with beans or squishy cotton. Every night, we have to kiss them all goodnight and wish them sweet dreams, and every morning, we have to count to make sure none fell victim to the dreaded beneath the bed monsters. Today, she’s chosen Trudy – that’s her name – to be her travel partner.

  “Ready, Daddy.” She rubs her belly
in anticipation. “Can I have fizzy water today?”

  “Yup!” If by fizzy water you mean ginger ale and car sickness pills that hopefully knock you out for the long drive. “I’m ready too, baby.” I turn to the woman that I legitimately loathe, and paste on my most convincing smile. “Say goodbye to Grandma, Lyss. Give her a big kiss.”

  “Miles…” Lorna’s thin lips press together with disapproval. “It’s not too late to undo this.”

  “It’s definitely too late.” I catch Trudy as Lyss runs to my ex-girlfriend’s mother with all of the exuberance of a six-year-old, and throws her arms around her hips.

  “I love you, Grandma.”

  “I love you too, sweetpea.” Lorna unwinds Lyss’ arms, but only so she can lower into a crouch and meet her eye to eye. She draws my baby back in for another hug, squeezes her extra tight, and sets my teeth on edge.

  I don’t tend to feel violent toward women, but Lorna has tested me. She’s tested me so fucking much these past years.

  “You’ll call me?”

  Lyss nods and wraps her little arms around the woman.

  Lyss is at a stage now where she’s changing from toddler to little girl. Long gone is the baby, and the terrible-twos, with the chubby arms and elbow dimples, all a distant memory. Now my girl is tall, skinny as a beanpole, and what were once gentle brown curls have grown out to be a soft wave that almost touches her backside. Her hair is a deep, dark chocolate, the same as mine. And her whiskey-colored eyes match mine too. It does good things to my heart to know that a mousy-brown-haired woman with milky green eyes gave birth to this girl that owns my heart, but that girl looks like me.

  It’s kind of magical in a way, to give my DNA to Karla – whether intended or not – to let her body do the work, and then for the final product, my baby, to come out looking just like me.

  “You don’t have to go, sweetpea.” Lorna whispers in Lyss’ ear. “You just have to tell your daddy that you want to stay here with Grandma. I’ll let you do up your room, and–”

  “Nope.” I wade between them and tug my baby from Lorna’s claws. “You’re out of your mind if you think you get to chat with her in private, and you’re clinically fucking stupid if you think I’m leaving her behind.”

  “Daddy,” Lyss scowls. “Cussing.”

  “Sorry, baby.” I pull her into my arms and set her on my hip, then I press a kiss to her temple and breathe her in. Eyes closed, I inhale her right to the bottom of my lungs. Then I open my eyes and glare at the bitch who thinks she gets my daughter. “Lyss will call when I let her call, and every conversation you have with her will be monitored by me. You get zero alone time with her, because you’ve proven you can’t be trusted.”

  “Miles!” She follows as I turn on my heels and snatch up the blue and red bag. “Miles! You can’t take her.”

  “Yes, I can!” I swing back around. “She’s my daughter. Mine! You have zero rights to her.”

  “But I’ve been here since she was a baby.”

  “You’ve been scheming since Karla left. You have a mental illness, Lorna. You’re obsessed with the daughter that will never come back to you, so you try to latch onto my daughter. But that’s not how this works, because she’s mine. She will always and only be mine.”

  “I’ll get a lawyer,” she blubbers. “I’ll fight you for custody.”

  “Go for it. You could probably get a decent lawyer with all that money I gave you. But those billable hours add up fast, and at the end of the day, Lyss is still mine. The state will not give you shit, except perhaps a private suite at a clinic that will help you with your grief over Karla.”

  “It’s not grief!” she screeches. “Grief is for death. My daughter is not dead.”

  She is to me. “I’ll see you… never.” I flash a smile for Lyss, who stares between us in shocked silence. “Let’s go, Lyssy-poo. Are you ready for our new adventure?”

  It’s kinda fucking sad that Lyss isn’t upset about our shouting. Because this isn’t the first time she’s heard me and her maternal grandmother have words. Especially in the last year.

  She grins, my twin – but way cuter – and nods. “I’m ready.”

  “Maybe we’ll get drive-thru for lunch. Does that sound like fun?”

  “With a toy?”

  I shrug and walk away from Lorna as she stands in what used to be my living room and blubbers into a tissue. I probably should feel bad for her. There’s a tiny shred of my heart that should feel bad for the woman who genuinely loves her daughter and granddaughter so much that she’s made herself ill. But she’s the Titanic, and I refuse to sit aboard and wait for my daughter to drown. “Maybe. I guess it depends if they have any left. Do you think they will?”

  Eyes alight, bright, wide, she hugs my neck and presses her doll between us so we’re a three-way hug. “They always have some.”

  “Well, not always.” I collect my keys from the kitchen counter, my phone, my wallet. I pocket everything, juggle my daughter and the bag of leftover toys we don’t dare forget, then I walk away from the woman who needs help that I can’t provide. “I went one time, and they didn’t have any toys left.”

  “Maybe you were naughty,” Lyss giggles. “They don’t have any toys unless you’re good.”

  “Oh!” I tickle her ribs and catch her when she throws herself back with giggles. “You’re probably right. Daddy was a little bit naughty when he was five.”

  “I’m six!” I love the way her face transforms when she feels unfairly treated. “Daddy, I’m six.”

  “You are not.” I step through the door, and turn back and pull it closed with a gentle snick as Lorna’s loud, keening sobs follow us all the way to the stairs and down. “You did not turn six recently.”

  “I did too. We did the party.”

  I grin and bask in this moment as we skip down the stairs and emerge into the September sun.

  It’s hot, and this drive is going to suck, but it’s also freedom. It’s the start of something new. It’s the first time in Lyss’ whole life that we’re stepping out of the shadow of everyone else and their baggage, and taking an opportunity for ourselves.

  It’s been more than five years since my high school girlfriend decided she didn’t want to do the mom life. She was sixteen and I was seventeen when the universe decided to surprise the hell out of us. We had sex, accidentally created a baby, and instead of the plan I’d laid out for myself – college, sporting greatness, and getting rich so I could show the girl I was very much in love with the good life – we got a double-lined pee stick.

  Back then, it was scary, but it was also an adventure. We got our own apartment, we bought baby shit – so much baby shit! – and we thought our life would be like the fairytales you see in movies. The dancing in the kitchen, the cute coos from a cherubic baby, the photo ops and the fun days at the park.

  What we actually got was a sickly baby that never liked to sleep, and to pay for all of that baby shit, the meds, the special food and the hospital stays, I had to work two jobs, three jobs, a million jobs. It meant I was gone for eighteen hours a day, and I missed out on all of those anticipated movie moments.

  A teenager, and all alone at home with a baby, Karla slowly turned… well… crazy.

  I don’t mean the clinical kind of crazy where I think she deserves to be locked away, but the kind where she couldn’t find happiness no matter how much I tried to provide it. She couldn’t find peace in what we had, she couldn’t love her baby enough to do the right thing.

  She was going out to buy formula, she said. The hypoallergenic kind that Lyss needed. The expensive stuff, and diapers too, since we were running out. She said she’d be twenty minutes, and then we could chill out in the only hour I had before I had to go back to work.

  With only her purse and a phone in her possession, she left… and she never came back.

  The police were called. Investigators. So many questions.

  They took my baby for the night, sat me in the box and asked where I think she
could have gone, and when my story never changed, never faltered, never wobbled, they let me collect Lyss and take her home. Five days later, and after nationwide press regarding the case of the missing teen who had a baby at home, she called.

  She couldn’t do it, she said. She couldn’t be the mom she was supposed to be. And she begged, begged me to let her go.

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes?” I shake Karla off, just like I had to back then, and smile for the only girl that ever gets my undivided and undying attention.

  Alyssa relies on me, and she deserves a happy home. Living in that shoebox apartment, with Karla’s things still in the closet, with her shoes under the bed, her photos on the mantle, and her hair ties on the bathroom door handle, that’s not happiness. That’s a shrine, and it forbids us from moving on.

  I was in love with my girlfriend, but it was a child’s love. It was the love borne of responsibility, the kind that, had she stayed, I would have been faithful to for the rest of my life. Not because I was hopelessly head over heels in love with her, but because it was the right thing to do.

  Maybe she knew that, and maybe she didn’t want that kind of love. The dull kind. She wanted adventure, she wanted passion and fireworks and craziness.

  None of the things I could provide.