Page 110 of Steel

I glance into the rear-view mirror and catch my little girl’s eyes. They’re not as bright as they were earlier, and I want to growl in frustration because I know she’s expecting nothing but disappointment from the woman who birthed her.

“Yeah, Princess?”

“This is good, right? Mommy wanting me back home?”

My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, and I blow out a breath. “Fuckin’ hope so, Lyra, ‘cause I’m goin’ to be real honest with you, kid. Don’t know how much more I can take of her makin’ you eat shit before I keep you from her for good, yeah?”

She stares at me with a sad expression on her face, and I hate that I’ve had to lay it out to her like that, but I’ve always been truthful with her, and I’m not going to stop now. Especially when there’s every bit of a chance of it becoming her reality far too soon.

“Okay, Dad,” she says quietly, turning to look out the window.

Pain radiates up my jaw as I grind my teeth together.

Dad.

It’s the first time she’s used the more grown-up word, and something about it breaks my damn heart as much as it makes me angry at the shit hand for parents that life has dealt my girl.

I’m doing the best I can, but I ain’t her mama, and I know that’s what my kid craves more than anything. It’s why I eat shit from Heather more often than not. Lyric’s got my mom, and now she’s got Bailee, but it’ll never be the same for her. Least fromwhat I can tell. And until Lyric shows me different, I’ll do what I can to give her what she wants.

Heather is waiting outside her apartment when we arrive, and she actually looks happy to see Lyric. Her eyes are clear, and the smile on her face seems genuine. I keep my eyes on her as Lyric and I climb out, searching for any sign of deception, any sign that she’s been using, but there’s nothing. Either she’s clean or she’s gotten that fucking good at hiding it from me.

I’m leery, but there’s hope for Lyric that maybe me keeping her away a little bit helped her see how important our little girl is.

Heather holds her arms open with a smile, and Lyric takes a hesitant step forward . . . then another . . . and another before she’s giggling and then running into her open arms. Heather lifts her up and spins her around, making Lyric laugh, and I stop in my tracks to watch. It’s the first time in a while that I’ve seen Lyric laugh with her mom.

That hope grows just a little more.

I’m the weakest son-of-a-bitch when it comes to my daughter.

“Hi, Steel,” Heather greets, her voice full of so much sugar, it makes my teeth ache, and not in a good way.

“Heather,” I grunt, holding out Lyric’s duffel bag.

Being in her presence still makes me want to rush into a hot shower, but it’s something I’m gonna have to deal with. I ain’t taking this from my girl just because I can’t handle the fact that she . . .

She takes the bag, and the move cuts off my thought before it has time to finish, which I’m thankful for.

“Thanks for bringing her back and for doing it on a weekend that I know is supposed to be yours. It means a lot. I’m just so excited to get to spend some time with her.”

“No problem. Glad you’re doin’ better for her and for yourself. If you need anything, give me a call.” I turn away from her and toward Lyric. “Love you, Princess. Have fun. Need me foranything, no matter what time it is, no matter how big or small, you call. Hear me?”

“Yeah, Daddy.” She walks over and wraps her arms around my waist. “Love you more than all the clouds in the sky.”

I scrub a hand over her head. “Love you more than all the stars in the universe.”

They both stand on the sidewalk as I pull away. Too many times, I almost slam on my brakes and turn around to go back and grab Lyric away from her, but I fight the compulsion and continue on my way to pick up Bailee.

My fucking line of work has made me one paranoid motherfucker.

I lean against the doorway of the kitchen and watch Bailee whip up some grub on the stove. Whatever the fuck it is smells delicious. When I picked her up earlier, she asked if I had shit here for her to cook because she wanted real food, and she bounced in her seat a lot in excitement like Lyric does when I told her I did.

As soon as we got here, she changed into these short-ass things that have half her ass cheeks hanging out anytime she moves and switched out her t-shirt for one of those thin-strapped tanks minus a bra. Of course, I’m not complaining because I find myself admiring the view anytime it’s in front of me. Bailee’s fucking beautiful. Always has been, no matter what the fuck she’s wearing, but her being comfortable enough now in my home to be barefoot in nothing but sleep shorts and a tank while cooking us dinner sets loose that primal side of me again.

Bailee awoke a beast trapped inside me that’s been slumbering for years, and now, he clings to me as he waits for any chance to come out and make her ours.

She’s the only woman I’ve ever felt this overwhelming need to claim. To own. To fucking worship. It’s why it terrifies the fuck out of me. Even when I thought I felt shit toward Emmy Lou, it was nothing like this. Hell, it wasn’t even a millimeter of a fraction of this. Emmy Lou was merely a crush. Don’t think she was even that. She was just something pretty and warm in the middle of the darkness. It didn’t even bother me when she and Atlas got together. Would we have become something if they hadn’t? Maybe, but we’d have only been a flash fire. We’d have burned out quicker than we caught fire. Shit never would have been more than surface level between us, same as it was with Heather.

“Crap on a cracker, Steel. If your eyes burn into me any hotter, I’m going to have to go change my dang clothes again,” Bailee grumbles, setting the spatula down in some holder in the middle of the stove before turning to me.

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