Page 124 of Steel

Glancing around, I take in the well-lived home, peace and contentment filling my soul.

Steel and Lyric’s shoes blend together on the shoe rack in the hall. Jackets hang on the hook. Pictures of Lyric throughout the years line the wall. Some are with Steel, some with Emmy Lou and Atlas, and there are even some with his club brothers.

A small smile twists my lips as I stare at those.

Lyric is definitely a club princess, and she seems to have every one of those men wrapped around her tiny fingers.

My chest squeezes and my smile fades. We’ve really got to tell them because it’s not just Steel’s relationship with them that’s being put in jeopardy. The longer I stare at the bond she has with these guys, the more my resolve hardens. No way will I let herlose them. Not when her relationship with her mom is so rocky all the time.

I brush a finger over the group picture before turning toward the rest of the house. Warmth fills me as I take in the minor touches I’ve added along the way without realizing it.

The pictures Lyric and I drew together hang on the fridge. The photos I’ve taken of her and the candid shots of her and Steel line the mantle between the kitchen and dining room. My favorite is the one Lyric had me take of her, me, and Steel. We were making goofy faces at the camera, and it still brings a soft smile to my face when I gaze at it. I bet not many people get to see this side of him, and that’s what I love most about it.

It hits me that this is home.

Not just theirs, but mine too.

I don’t know when I started considering their home my own, but it happened somewhere along the way.

The thought of how easily this can all be yanked from me if Steel decides he can’t do this any longer terrifies the crap out of me.

Shoving all those damn insecurities deep, I go about preparing for my night with my favorite girl.

The pantry is stocked up pretty good, so I dig through the contents, trying to find something I can whip up for Lyric. The girl is ridiculously obsessed with macaroni and cheese, which is why there is about thirty boxes of the stuff. But I don’t really care much for the taste of the boxed crap, so I snatch the elbow noodles and head to the fridge.

As much as Lyric is obsessed with mac and cheese, her father is obsessed with cheese in general. He’s usually got blocks of just about every kind you can find sitting in his fridge.

By the time I’m pulling the macaroni and cheese from the oven, the headlights of a car come up the drive.

I almost burn myself and drop the pan in my excitement to get it on the stove and the mitts off so I can meet them outside. Thankfully, I extract myself from them without damage and hurry to the porch.

Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I twist my hands together.

It wouldn’t look good to take off running to her when she’s with people I haven’t met before.

But telling myself that doesn’t stop my feet from itching to do it anyway.

Lyric glances my way after she climbs from the back of the car, and from the way her body fidgets, she’s fighting the same urge as I am. She lifts her hand and waves excitedly, bouncing under the man’s hold on her shoulder.

We both smile widely at each other.

The man and woman who are with her gaze in my direction. They’re too far away for me to see what they’re feeling, but their stares burn my skin, and not in a pleasant way.

When they get close enough that I can make out their features, I suck in a quiet breath and beg my body to go still. The man looks so much like Steel, he can’t be anyone other than his father.

They stop at the bottom of the stairs and stare at me.

I grind my jaw back and forth as their eyes scald my skin with their judgment. I don’t want to let it bother me because I can understand where their wariness comes from. Heather is Lyric’s mom, and Steel was with her for a while, so I’m sure they got a lot of experience with her that was probably not the best.

I’m being judged because of her, and it sucks, but it is what it is.

“Bee,” Lyric cries happily, trying to pull away from her grandfather.

Clenching my jaw when I notice he won’t let her come, I realize it’s going to be up to me to put them at ease. To show them I’m not Heather.

With that thought in mind, I slap a smile on my face and step forward with my hand extended to his mom. “Hi! You must be Jericho’s mom. I’m Bailee.”

Her eyes fill with surprise when I use his birth name instead of the road name he goes by with everyone else. I knew Heather wasn’t allowed to refer to him by it, so I’m hoping it’ll be one way to show I’m different.

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