Page 83 of Steel

“Easy,” Lyric sings out, falling back to the couch in laughter when Bailee sticks her tongue out at her.

“Okay, Lyra. Johnny Depp made his film debut in what horror film?”

“A Nightmare on Elm Street. Duh. Doesn’t everyone know that?”

Bailee and I look at each other, our expressions holding a hell of a lot of warmth and love for this little girl being sassy as fuck next to me. In that short moment, I try to let my eyes tell her I’m sorry and that she’s the only woman I want. The fight to not believe me is in hers and, hell, it’s not like I can blame her. I’ve let her down time and again because of Heather.

She looks away, grabbing her slice of pizza and taking a bite, her way of ending an uncomfortable situation.

I clear my throat. “Right. Bailee, which college does the group of friends in 1981’sThe Evil Deadgo to?”

Her brows furrow, and her forehead crinkles a little as she thinks. “Florida State University?”

Lyric makes a loud buzzer noise, and Bailee laughs. “It’s Michigan State University.”

“Are you sure you’re only about to be seven?” Bailee teases. “You’re way too smart, little heart song.”

“That makes it Bailee, one, and Lyric, one. You’re still tied because you missed that one. Lyric, inThe Exorcist, Regan gets possessed by a demon named what?”

“Pazuzu,” she yells, jumping up and doing some kind of silly little dance.

For the next five minutes, we go back and forth with questions, with Lyric keeping us entertained with silly little antics each time she answers right, but it’s nothing compared to the way she lights up when she wins.

“Do you have nail polish?” Bailee asks her.

“Yeppers. Auntie Em brought me some the last time her and Uncle Atlas visited.”

Bailee’s body tightens slightly at the mention of Emmy Lou, and I sigh internally, knowing it’s just another thing that needs to be addressed between us. Otherwise, anytime she’s brought up or she’s around, shit’s going to get awkward, and I’d really hate to have to give up one of my best friends over something that was over the moment Bailee walked into my life.

“Run and get them, Princess. Bailee and I will clean this up so you all have a spot to do that girly shit. When your fingers and toes are dry, it’s shower and bed.”

I help Bailee gather our plates, empty bottles, and cans and take them to the kitchen. As much as I want to grab her and talk to her right now, it’s not the time. The conversations we need to have are too important to be interrupted by a little girl who’s been starved for female companionship for too long.

When I get back to the living room, Lyric has the table already set up and waiting patiently as Bailee gets herself situated.

Seconds pass, or maybe it’s minutes—hell, it could be fucking hours, I don’t know—as I stand here watching them. Their heads are close together, bent over Lyric’s hand as Bailee runs the brush over a finger then brings it toward her mouth to blow on it before setting it back down and moving to the next one. They whisper about things I’m not privy to, and I find that I’m okay with that. I have enough trust in Bailee to tell me if it’s something that I truly need to know. Otherwise, I’d prefer her to have my daughter’s confidence. Somehow, I believe there’s a lot that my daughter is keeping from me about what her relationship with her mom is really like.

Does she not trust me enough to come and tell me? She knows I’ll do anything in this world to protect her.

I straighten when it hits me.

That’s the problem. She knows there’s a chance that I won’t like whatever she has to tell me and I’ll end up doing something to Heather in a bid to protect her. So, she’s protecting her mom from me because she loves her. It’s not that she loves me any less.

“All right. Shower time, my little heart song,” Bailee says quietly, pulling me from my thoughts.

Fuck.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I missed the rest of the session, and it’s fucking disappointing because I was finally feeling it.

That same feeling I get when I’m on my bike, flying down the asphalt, watching the white and yellow lines blur so quickly that they eventually seem to fade away.

The feeling of peace.

The feeling of contentment.

The feeling of finally coming home.

I let Bailee run off to the shower after she told Lyric goodnight and tucked her in because I knew she couldn’t hide out forever. The water would eventually get cold, and she’d have to get out to seek some warmth, whether it’s from clothes, the bed, or me.

---