Chapter Twenty-One #3
—until another peal of Junie’s laughter reached them.
“Shit,” Cassie breathed, rolling off him. “So much for not jumping you in Margie’s spare bedroom.”
Scrubbing his hands over his face like he was trying to reset his brain, Nash sat up slowly. “I should probably get back down there,” he muttered. “You comin’?”
Cassie pushed herself upright, smoothing down her shirt. “Where?”
“Downstairs. I want you to meet Junie. Properly.”
Cassie’s eyes snapped up. “Uh, no. No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Nash looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Why the hell not?”
“Because. I mean, look at what happened this morning. She probably thinks…” Her hands lifted helplessly. She didn’t even know what a kid Junie’s age would make of any of it.
“Christ, Cassie, she thinks you’re Con’s sister.”
“And what else does she think?” she asked pointedly.
“Hell,” Nash muttered, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “She asked if you were my girlfriend—seein’ as how she found us in the kitchen.” He paused, watching her. “…I told her you used to be.”
“And what did she say to that?”
“Her exact words? Somethin’ like, ‘Is there anyone in Clifton who ain’t been your girlfriend?’”
Cassie barked out a laugh before she could stop it.
“Yeah,” Nash said, shaking his head. “The two of you—you’ll be best fuckin’ friends—I’ll put money on it. C'mon, Cas—come meet my goddamn kid.”
Cassie let out a resigned sigh and slid off the bed. At the mirror, she smoothed her hair, tugged her mock neck higher, and made damn sure the marks stayed hidden. Dragging in a breath that wasn’t quite steady, she turned back to Nash.
“And what if she hates me?”
“You lettin’ ten-year-olds scare you now?” he said, opening the door and moving into the hall. “That don’t sound like the Cassie Berry I know.
“Cassie Berry I know used to get so damn mad at me, she’d jump outta my truck while it was still rollin’.”
“Oh my god,” Cassie muttered, swiping the Polaroid off the bed and hurrying into the hall after him.
“Cassie Berry I know swindled half a dozen Reapers on their own damn turf and left me and Con to clean it up.”
Cassie shoved past him, shooting him a look as she started down the stairs. “You can stop anytime now.”
“Cassie Berry I know,” Nash called after her, “pulled the fire alarm on her sixteenth birthday just to get outta school.”
“Did you really do that?” Junie asked.
Cassie stopped short at the bottom of the stairs. Margie and Junie had paused midway to the living room, fresh glasses of sweet tea in hand. Margie eyed Cassie over the rim, fighting a grin.
“Yeah, Cas. Did you really do that?” Nash stopped beside her, nudging her with his elbow.
“Yes, I did,” Cassie replied, side-eyeing Nash. “But in my defense, Junie, it was your daddy’s idea.”
Junie shot Nash a sharp glance. “Is that true? ’Cause you’re always tellin’ me to stay outta trouble at school.”
“What do I always say, Junebug—do as I say, not as I do.”
“So you’re just a hypocrite,” Junie replied with a shrug. “Got it.”
Margie barked a laugh into her tea, and Nash sighed like he was already tired. “No. I’m a goddamn parent. It’s different.”
Junie had already moved on—she was eyeing Cassie, arms crossed, one brow raised—looking for all the world like a miniature of her father.
“Do you still do stuff like that?”
Cassie opened her mouth—then shut it. “I’m gonna plead the fifth on that one.”
Margie started coughing on her tea.
Junie frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothin’, Junebug,” Margie managed, slinging an arm over the girl’s shoulders and steering her toward the living room. “C’mon. Let’s see if we can find them Uno cards you were askin’ after.”
Meanwhile, Nash had dropped into a batter’s stance and was flashing Cassie a shit-eating grin. “Nathanial Walker,” he whisper-shouted. “Get your ass out here!”
Cassie didn’t miss a beat. “Watch it, Nathanial,” she said, turning toward the living room. “I know Margie’s got a bat around here somewhere.”
By the time the house finally settled, Charlie was out cold in Margie’s recliner—mouth open, snoring hard enough to rattle the damn thing.
Margie was in the kitchen, seated at the table with the Polaroid in one hand and an Irish coffee in the other—the same place she’d been since Cassie handed off the photograph.
Nash sat on the sofa, his phone gone dark in his hand, wondering what alternate universe he’d accidentally stumbled into. Of all the things he’d never expected to see in his life, his kid running a two-person gambling racket with Cassie Berry was right at the top of the damn list.
In the middle of the room, Junie sat cross-legged on the rug, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, eyeing Cassie like a tiny general over a colorful fan of Uno cards.
Cassie, lounging on a stack of cushions with her legs tucked under her, acted like she wasn’t paying the least bit of attention—right up until Junie’s hand drifted toward the draw pile, trying to steal a card off the top.
“Nice try,” Cassie said dryly, without looking up.
Junie froze with the card half-lifted. “I was just—”
“You were gonna pocket that and pretend you didn’t draw,” Cassie finished for her.
Junie’s mouth fell open. “No, I wasn’t!”
“You were also gonna ‘forget’ to pay the fine too—weren’t you?” Cassie tapped the pot—a hefty pile of loose change and wrinkled bills.
Junie blinked.
Nash blinked too, because apparently there were fines in Uno now—or whatever the fuck version Cassie kept inventing as she went. They were on game six. Hell, maybe seven. He’d stopped keeping track somewhere around game three—right around the time Junie had started treating his pockets like an ATM.
“Cheating is a dollar,” Cassie said. “Trying to cheat is also a dollar—because you didn’t even do it well.”
“And Junie,” she continued. “Never just steal off the top. Wait till you’re supposed to draw—like when I hit you with a Draw Two—then sneak an extra.” She tapped her temple. “If you’re gonna do it, do it smart.”
Nash shook his head, eyeing Cassie with amusement. Cassie, like the pro swindler she was, pretended not to notice him.
Junie slapped the stolen card back onto the pile with a huff. “Dad,” she said tragically, as if she hadn’t been cleaning him out all night. “I need a dollar.”
“This is it,” he said, handing Junie the last bill in his wallet. “For real this time—I ain’t got shit left.”
Junie snatched it and shoved it into the pot with an angry little flourish, but her grin broke through anyway—the kid was having the time of her life.
Two rounds later, Junie was down to three cards—eyes bright, practically wiggling with excitement, while Cassie had…a whole lot more. And she was still drawing. One card. Two. She dragged the moment out, shuffling her hand like she was thinking hard, when Nash knew damn well she wasn’t.
“Ha,” Junie crowed, slapping down a card and already dragging the pot toward herself. “I win—I’m rich!”
Cassie tossed her cards away with a dramatic sigh. “Dammit, Junie. You finally beat me.”
“I beat you because I’m better than you now.”
“That’s a bold claim from someone who just got caught cheating.”
“I wasn’t cheating,” Junie said immediately. Then hesitated. “I was…doing it smart,” she finished, tapping her temple.
“Jesus Christ,” Nash muttered. “All right, Junebug. I’m officially broke and it’s gettin’ close to bedtime. Go tell Margie good night.”
Junie’s face fell. “Dad! I’m not even tired.”
“You’re tired,” he said firmly. “I’m tired. Now go.”
Junie looked like she was about to argue, then thought better of it. Arms crossed, she stormed off toward the kitchen.
Nash watched her go, shaking his head, before turning to Cassie.
“She was already a brat. Now she’s a damn cardshark. Next thing I know she’s gonna be hustlin’ pool tables.”
Cassie, already collecting cards, laughed. “She’s hilarious. And a handful.” She squared the deck, then started laughing again—soft at first, then full-bodied. “Remember when Mav cursed you with a kid ‘just like you’?”
She laughed again, and Nash just sat there watching her, feeling all kinds of stupid good inside.
“You comin’ home with me tonight, Cas?” he murmured.
Cassie glanced his way, her laughter melting into a smile that was pure sex. Christ. For half a second, it felt like old times—like they were still sneaking off where nobody could see, desperate to get their hands on each other—then Margie’s voice carried from the kitchen and her face changed.
“Listen,” she said quietly, tucking the cards away. “You’ve got Junie. You’ve got…Addy. You’ve got all of that goin’ on.” She exhaled, her gaze meeting his. “And I don’t want to be the reason Junie’s crying again tomorrow.”
Heat climbed up his neck—guilt first, then that old familiar anger right behind it. “That wasn’t on you,” he ground out. “That’s Addy. And that’s me lettin’ her get away with it.”
“No, I know, but me bein’ there didn’t make it any better.”
Nash stared at her, feeling suddenly hollow, trying to figure out what she wasn’t saying. “Cas…you’ve been in my bed all goddamn week… What the fuck are we doin’? You gonna clue me in?”
She opened her mouth—
“Ready,” Junie announced, stalking back into the room. “Even though I’m not tired.”
Cassie’s mouth snapped shut, and Nash rolled his eyes.
“We’ll finish this tomorrow,” he said, pushing to his feet.
“Finish what?” Junie asked.
“Nothin’. C’mon, Wild Bill. Let’s get your gamblin’ ass home.”
Guiding his daughter toward the hall, he shot Cassie a long look—and mouthed tomorrow.
Cassie’s eyes narrowed playfully. Fuck you, she mouthed back.
“Yeah,” he said, a grin pulling at his mouth as he disappeared around the corner. “That’s the idea.”