Page 18

Chapter eighteen

Three Days Later

My day has already started off in a shit mood because we’re laying our brother to his final rest this morning. If that wasn’t enough to have me wanting to bury my fucking tomahawks in someone’s throat, then the fact that Heather is on my fucking doorstep bright and goddamn early this morning, all dolled up in black and ready to go, would have.

“What are you doing here?” I growl, not in the mood to deal with her shit.

“I’m here because you’re going to need me today. I’m sorry about Bozo, and I know the last thing you’re going to want to focus on is a kid.” She huffs and rolls her eyes when I open my mouth. “I know you love our daughter, Steel, but you’re also grieving the loss of your friend. You should be able to do that without having to worry about her too. I’m her mother, and regardless of the state of our relationship, you’re the father to my daughter. Let me take care of you both today.”

I don’t want Heather anywhere around me, but when my daughter comes bouncing up next to her looking cute as fuck in a black romper thing, her hair in curls around her sad face, I can’t say no. She loved Bozo as much as the rest of us, and not letting her be there is something I never thought about doing. Lyric is old enough to make that choice for herself. I sat her down and explained what that would mean, what she would see, but she assured me it’s what she wanted. As much as I want to protect my girl, death is a part of life, and it’s not something I’m going to always be able to shield her from. At least today, I’ll be there if she needs me.

“Hey, Daddy,” she says quietly, peering up at me with glossy green eyes and trembling lips.

Bending down, I grab her under the arms and lift her to me, snuggling her against my chest, knowing it won’t be long before I’m unable to do this. I bury my face in her hair and let the feel of her tiny arms around my neck hold me together.

“Hey, Princess,” I mumble.

Lyric pats her palm against me as she pulls back and looks me in the eye. There’s a seriousness on her face that’s way beyond her years. “I got you, Daddy.”

“Ah, fuck, girlie.” My voice is gruff as I try to control my emotions. I kiss her forehead and set her on her feet. “Love you, kid.”

“Love you too.” Lyric grabs my hand. “Come on. Let’s get you ready, Daddy.”

Heather’s hand settles on my other arm, but her touch is unwanted and I jerk away from it, following my daughter farther into the house.

I don’t want Heather with me today. There’s only one woman I want at my side, but because of the goddamn bullshit going on, I can’t have her there. Bailee begged me to let her come, told me she didn’t care anymore about Killer finding her, that she only wanted to be there for me, but I cared, dammit. Be damned if that motherfucker grabs her because I was too selfish and wanted her with me.

I’m a grown ass man who can deal with this shit on my own. It’s not the first time we’ve lost a brother and it’s not going to be the last. Especially if shit keeps brewing the way it is with the fucking Night Skulls. If it does, something tells me that a war will be on the horizon, and it’s been a long fucking time since we’ve been through one of those.

Since I don’t have the energy to fight with Heather to get her to leave, I ignore her and focus on my daughter and the funeral I’m about to attend. Surprisingly, Heather doesn’t kick up a fuss like she normally would, so somewhere inside her there’s a goddamn soul.

The ride to the funeral home is quiet, and the entire way, my mind plays a video montage of all the moments we’ve shared with Bozo. The moments he shared with the club. The rides we’ve taken together, the wars we’ve fought side-by-side, back-to-back.

My throat gets tight the more those memories hit me.

There was a family day at the club not long ago, and I remember walking outside and watching as Hendrick and Lyric climbed all over him, laughing and kicking up a storm when he’d use some fucking silly voice before chasing them around the yard.

A sea of steel and chrome line the road to the clubhouse as members of Hades Hellions, Twisted Kings, and Sadistic Sinners come to pay their respects to our fallen brother.

It’s not often you’ll find so many clubs together without blood being shed, but when one of your allies have lost someone, weapons are put down and white flags are raised.

If the Night Skulls or anyone else were going to hit us to get max capacity on casualties, this would be ample opportunity.

My fingers tighten around the steering wheel of my Bronco, wishing I’d have ridden my bike in, but Lyric wasn’t having it. She refused to leave with Heather, so they both ended up in my vehicle. My daughter, I don’t mind, but Heather is a different story. There should be someone else sitting in her spot right now.

When I pull up to the front of the clubhouse, Bozo’s bike is sitting there, haloed by a golden fucking light shining down. People pass by it respectfully. They kiss two fingers, planting them to their heart then resting them on the seat while bowing their heads for a few minutes before walking into the club.

Lyric steps up between the seats and places her little hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Daddy. We’ll do this together, ‘kay?”

I peer at her through hazy eyes and lift a hand to cup her cheek. “Don’t know how the hell a man like me was blessed with someone like you, but I thank fuck for it every day, Princess.”

My daughter purses her lips, and I know I’m about to get a dose of her sass, which is needed in this heavy moment. “‘Cause someone knew you’d need a girl in your life to drive you crazy and keep you on your toes.”

With a chuckle, I tweak her nose. “You sure you’re only six?”

“We should get inside,” a sharp, annoying voice says from the other side of Lyric.

I shoot Heather a disgusted look but smile tightly. “Absolutely.” Glancing back at Lyric, I run my finger down her nose and my lips smooth out. “You positive you want to do this, Princess? I’ll be okay, you know. Not the first time.”

She slides her hand into mine and squeezes. “Uncle Bozo would want me here.”

Blowing out a breath, I nod and climb from the Bronco. I scoot the seat forward and hold my arms out for Lyric. Once she’s in them, I squeeze her to me and close my eyes as I brace myself for what we’re about to walk into.

After a few minutes, I stand tall, set my daughter on her feet, and wipe the emotion from my face. I lock everything away until I’m ready to face it again and put on my Road Captain mask. Too many eyes on us today for me to show anything other than the blankness they’re used to seeing me carry.

Men in leather and chains stand to the sides of the doors, their arms clasped behind their backs, their heads bowed respectfully as we pass. When I step through the doors and into the main area of the clubhouse, a punch to my solar plexus nearly steals my breath. I’m surrounded by the broken cries of Old Ladies and silent tears of my brothers as they face the room that holds our fallen comrade.

The doors to the chapel are held open, and resting on our table is a glossy black and gold marbled casket with its black velvet-lined lid up.

My feet freeze as I stare, feeling the wrongness of this. Bozo shouldn’t be in there. He still had too much left to do. Had too much left he wanted to accomplish, too much he wanted to feel before he left this world.

It’s fucking unfair, man.

The tone from my phone alerting me to a text message pulls my gaze from the room I’m not ready to face yet.

“Daddy?” Lyric whispers.

Squatting down, I tug on one of her curls. “Princess, goin’ to be real honest. Not ready to go in just yet, okay?”

Lyric reaches out and cups her tiny hand around my jaw. “Okay, Daddy. We’ll go when you’re ready.” She glances over at Hendrick. “I’m going to be with him right now. Is that okay?”

“‘Course.” I brush a kiss across her forehead. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Daddy.”

I stay there, watching as my girl skips over to her friend, spreading her sunshine around those who need it in a time when the clouds are refusing to let it through. Climbing to my feet, I pull my phone from my pocket and warmth infuses my cold body when I read Bailee’s message.

HUMMINGBIRD

Words are never going to be enough to tell you how much I wish you weren’t having to feel the pain of what you’re facing. I wish I was at your side right now so I can carry that burden for you, but since I can’t be there in person, know that I am in spirit and in heart. You’re not alone, Jericho. I’m right here where I’m always going to be. If you need me, just say the word, and I’ll be there. No matter what. You matter. Way more than I ever expected or wanted you to. Take care of yourself today.

All it takes is those words from her to give me the strength to face what the rest of my brothers have already had to. I wish more than fucking anything that I could have been selfish and let her come with me today. But as much as I need her, as much as I want her, I’ll never put her in danger for my own needs.

Crow and Sage are in there right now saying their goodbyes to Bozo, so I wait my turn, ignoring the fucking woman at my side trying to gain my attention.

Heather keeps trying to grab hold of my hand, but I refuse to let her touch me and keep my fingers curled into fists. Ever since that morning I woke up to her sucking my dick, the smallest touch from her has my skin crawling like the feathery touch of spider legs creeping across it.

Sage’s legs give out just as a sob tears from her chest. Crow catches her, lifting her into his arms and storming from the room with fire brewing in his eyes. It’s another warning that war is coming because he’s not going to let this go. Not only did this person take out our brother, but they’ve fucked with his Old Lady, and with a man like Crow, that’s the last fucking thing you want to do. Hell, it’s the last thing you want to do with any fucking biker. But when you’ve got one like him, one who’d been a dead man walking for so damn long until his angel came along and made him live again, it’s one of the most dangerous games in the motherfucking world to play.

“Lyric,” I call out, my voice husky from grief.

She hurries over to me, her face sad, her eyes already filling with tears, and takes my hand. “Ready, Daddy.”

I scoop her into my arms. “You’re not going to be able to see him down there, Princess.” With her on my hip, I step into the room. A whimper comes from Lyric, and I hold her to me tighter, feeling the tremble in my hands. “Got you, Lyric. I’m right here. We’re sayin’ bye together.”

“‘Kay,” she whispers against my shoulder.

With a deep breath, I close the small distance to the casket that holds the soulless body of my brother. Pain shoots through my jaw from grinding my teeth together as I stare down at him. It’s strange seeing him without a smile on his face. It’s unnatural, and it seems like there should be a law against the goddamn universe that says a man as bright as Bozo shouldn’t ever have his smile wiped away.

The fire at Trinity didn’t take him out. After he rescued Sage, but before Pierce and his men were able to get there, Bozo had his life stolen from him while his back was turned. A knife was shoved into the side of his neck, hitting his jugular, and he’d bled out in a matter of minutes. No one could find him at first because they were so focused on making sure there was no one else left inside the building. He had only been found about ten minutes before we arrived.

“Daddy, can I give him my necklace?”

I peer down at Lyric. She’s holding onto the pendant that I bought her for her birthday this year. “You want him to have it?”

Her lip wobbles, and a tear rolls down her cheek as she nods. “Yeah. That way, he won’t ever forget me. Not ever. Not even when he’s riding in the sky.”

Ah, fuck.

Setting her on her feet, I drop down in a crouch to unclasp the necklace from her neck, then I place it in her hand before picking her back up. She leans over and lets it dangle above where his heart once beat. With a whispered, “I love you, Uncle Bozo,” she lets it slide gently from her hand to fall into a pile.

“Your turn, Daddy,” she whispers.

I kiss her on the head and set her on her feet, nodding to where Heather is standing just at the edge of the door. “Why don’t you go stand with your mom? Think I’m goin’ to do this one on my own, kiddo. I love you, Princess.”

Lyric nods and wipes away her tears. “‘Kay. Love you too.”

I wait until I make sure Heather has her before turning back to the table. My fingers latch onto the edge of the casket and tighten as I gaze down at him.

“Dammit, brother. Your silly ass ain’t supposed to be here. Still had jokes to tell and people to make laugh. Still had a woman to fall in love with and a kid to father. This isn’t where your life was supposed to end.” I close my eyes when a tear falls from them. “You had so much goddamn life left to live. But know, brother, you’re leaving a hole in all of us. Your life was so fuckin’ bright that this club is goin’ to be a little bit darker for a while without it. They’re goin’ to pay, Bozo. We’re goin’ to catch them and they’re goin’ to pay for takin’ your light out of this world. That’s a vow I make to you. I hope you lived a good life, brother. Watch out for us while you’re ridin’ along in the sky.”

I open my eyes and kiss two of my fingers, placing them over his name patch on his cut before wiping my eyes and locking my shit down again.

My shoulders are stiff, my jaw is clenched, and my hands are fisted as I march from the room. Trusting that Heather has our daughter, I head outside, needing the air to fucking breath. Everywhere I look, there’s someone wanting to give me their condolences on the loss of my brother, and I’m choking, unable to draw air into my lungs as I shove my way through the crowd.

Wraith finds me minutes later, off to the side of the clubhouse, leaning back against the brick as I try to catch my breath. “Nova found me in this spot earlier.”

His quiet words have me peering over at him. The redness of his eyes lend credit to his claim, and I exhale sharply.

“Normally got shit locked tight.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve had to bury anyone, Steel. You can’t live life never feeling anything.”

“Got too many eyes on us right now to show weakness.”

Wraith shakes his head and places his hand on my shoulder. “Emotions don’t make you weak, brother. They can make you vulnerable, absolutely. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. But to me, shutting emotions out, not feeling anything . . . that makes you weak. We love our brother, and while you may view that grief and pain you’re feeling right now as weak, they come from that love. And love is the one emotion that makes you the strongest.”

“Or the weakest,” I mutter, thinking about all the shit I’ve witnessed him, Crow, and everyone else go through in the name of love.

“It could, if you let it. Or you find the balance, Steel. The balance is what matters. Because while love gives you something to lose, it also gives you something to fight like hell for.”

I don’t say anything to that, just stare up at the sky as I let his words play through my mind and think about Bailee.

“You doing okay? Saw you brought Heather. Didn’t think things were good with y’all. She why you’re so distracted lately?”

His last question has my body tightening. I didn’t realize it was noticeable. Fuck, I need to think of something that isn’t a lie. “Been tryin’ to get me to give her another fuckin’ chance.” I sigh and scrub my hands over my face. “Not goin’ there again, Pres. Don’t think so, anyway.”

My mind drifts to Bozo and the way he was always telling me that I needed to do whatever I could to make sure Lyric had a happy life. I always thought that meant her mama and daddy being together. It’s why I’ve sacrificed so much of my happiness the last seven years.

Is that what he actually meant?

“Want my advice, brother?”

Glancing over, I lift a shoulder. “‘Course I do.”

“I think you’ve given up enough of your time to her. She’s not good for you. Never thought was. Can’t recall a time I actually saw happiness in you since she’s been in your life. Not unless you got that little girl of yours with you. Being with someone just for the kids, that ain’t gonna do anything but make everyone miserable. If losing our brother has taught us anything, it’s that life is too fucking short to take anything for granted, and it’s definitely too fucking short to be anything but happy. If I die today, Steel, I’m going out a happy man. Before I met Nova and my kids, I couldn’t really say that.” Wraith steps away from the building after squeezing my shoulder. “I hope you let yourself find that. It’s time to head to the cemetery.”

Without another word, I follow Wraith as he leads us back to the clubhouse. A hearse is backing up to the doors as we reach the front, and I roll my head along my shoulders as I prepare myself.

Eight of us surround the casket, placing our hands through the metal holders along its framing. We glance at each other with stoic faces, and our President begins the quiet countdown to one. Just like everything else we do, we lift our brother together and begin the slow and steady trek through the sad and tearful mourners as we carry him to his final ride.

There’s reluctance in each of our grips as we release our holds.

Once he’s safe in the back of the hearse, we step back as a unit and stand tall and proud as the driver shuts the door gently. He turns to face us, his hands folded in front of him as he gazes at us with compassion. “It’s an honor and a privilege to carry your fallen brother on his final ride.”

Sobs sound out around us as they catch wind of his words, and I clench my hands to still the shaking in them.

Wraith steps forward and clasps hands with the driver. “Thank you for the care and compassion you’re showing him and all of us.”

The grittiness of his words betrays him, showing the world the depth of his grief, but he’s not ashamed and carries it proudly.

He turns to me as the driver climbs into the vehicle. “I know you drove your Bronco here because of Lyric, but I know you want to be riding with us.” He holds out a set of keys and drops them into my palm. “I think Bozo would want you to ride his. We were the only family he had, so his bike stays with us. It’s only right that it’s there as we put him in the ground. Prospect Poe will drive the girls in your Bronco if that’s good with you.”

The sharp ridges of the keys cut into the skin of my palm as I tighten them in my fist. “Let me check in with Lyric. If she’s okay with it, it’d be my honor to ride my brother’s bike.”

Heather and Lyric are standing over with the club whores, which doesn’t surprise me. I’m not unaware of the way everyone has been mostly ignoring Heather. She’s only got herself to blame. Every time someone tried to interact with her whenever we were together, she rebuffed their efforts, too worried about where she was going to get her next fix. That’s another thing that surprises me about today. Even though I’ve not paid her much attention, I did long enough to be sure she was sober to take care of our daughter.

Maybe she’s actually trying this time, like she said she would.

“Hey,” I say quietly when I stop in front of them. “Lyric, are you okay if Prospect Poe drives you and your mom to the cemetery so I can ride Uncle Bozo’s bike?”

Lyric nods, giving me a shaky smile. “Yes, Daddy, that’s okay.”

Heather steps up to me, and I grit my teeth to keep from stepping back. “I don’t want to ride with someone I don’t know. Lyric can go with him, and I’ll ride on the bike with you.”

The laugh that tears from my chest is grating, causing her eyes to widen, and she take a step back. “So, you refuse to ride with someone you don’t know, but you’re okay sendin’ our daughter on her own? The fuck is wrong with you?”

Heather’s eyes harden, and she lifts her chin. “Lyric is familiar with him. I’m not.”

“Actually, she’s not that familiar with Poe. You’re damn lucky this is my club and these are my brothers. As for ridin’ on the back of the bike? Not happenin’. You’ll ride with Lyric in the Bronco behind the bikes or you can stay the fuck here. After the funeral, we’ll come back here then I’ll take you back to my house to get your car so you can go. Anything else, I ain’t dealin’ with today.”

I tug on one of Lyric’s locks and drop a kiss to the top of her head with a warning to the prospect to keep her safe before heading over to Bozo’s bike. Like the rest of my brothers, we walk the bikes until we’re in formation behind the hearse, which pulled outside the gates a few minutes ago. The driver starts his slow procession down the road and the rumble of pipes sings through the air as, bike by bike, members from various clubs fire them up to follow behind us.

People emerge from houses and businesses as we drive by, most paying their respects by dropping their chins to their chests. Others stand stoically, watching the waves of black and chrome pass by them in a cloud of sadness and a harmony of thundering pipes.

Glancing in the side mirror, my throat tightens when I see Bozo’s procession goes on for miles. It’s nothing less than the man deserves.

It’s not long before we’re pulling through the gates of the cemetery and following the hearse to the plot laid out for Bozo.

“Jude ‘Bozo’ Snyder was a hell of a man,” Chappy, our Nomad brother, begins the service.

I stand through the service, my fingers curled around the back of Lyric’s chair, listening to Chappy go over our brother’s life while I stare at the casket waiting to be lowered into the ground.

Someone clears their throat, and I glance up to find Wraith standing in front of us. “There was nothing more our brother loved than being on his bike. He once told me that the growl of the pipes was one of the most peaceful sounds he’d ever heard. He said he found freedom, he found peace, and he always found clarity when he was flying down the streets on his bike.”

He turns toward the casket, reaches over to the boombox someone set up on a chair beside it, and presses play. The beginning strains of “Free Bird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd blast out of the small speakers, and broken cries from people around me join in. Wraith steps up and places his hand on the casket, bowing his head for a minute before stepping back and giving a nod for him to start being lowered. Then he turns back to us, lifts his hand in the air, and twirls his index finger. All around us, in every direction, bikes come to life. Engines are revved as pipes growl for our brother in a send-off.

“God forgives, Mavericks don’t. Dirty ‘til we die,” Wraith roars.

“God forgives, Mavericks don’t. Dirty ‘til we die,” we bellow behind him.

It’d be fucking nice if I don’t have to attend another one of these anytime soon, but with the way my gut has been rolling lately and the way the darkness has been building around the club, I have a terrible feeling that we’re going to see more bloodshed.

“Daddy, will you stop and get something to drink?”

I glance in the rear-view mirror. “Can you wait ‘til we get home, Lyric?” She pops her bottom lip out, and I sigh. “Yeah, I’ll stop at the next gas station. Gotta get gas anyway.”

“Love you,” she sings.

Chuckling, I roll my eyes and focus back on the road. “Love you too, Princess.”

“You really shouldn’t spoil her so much. It’s not like I can get her stuff anytime she asks.”

Heather’s bitchy tone has my fingers curling tighter around the steering wheel. If I’m not mistaken, it also sounded like there was a bit of jealousy hidden in there. Not surprising considering it’s not the first time she’s shown signs of it toward our daughter.

“My daughter, Heather. You don’t tell me what I can and cannot buy her,” I reply quietly.

“Our daughter,” she growls. “You always seem to forget that. She’s mine too. I get a say in what you do with her.”

I peer up to the rear-view to check on Lyric and find her head down, but the way she’s wringing her hands in her lap informs me that she is listening very closely to everything her mother is saying.

“Not doin’ this with her in here. Got something to talk about, we’ll do it when she’s not around. Understood?”

The hardness in my voice can’t be mistaken. I’m fucking pissed. Heather knows damn well that shit like this doesn’t go down in front of our daughter. I’ve never let it happen before, so I don’t know why she thinks she’s going to get away with it now.

Does she think she’s fucking special because she got to go to Bozo’s funeral with me? She’s not. I didn’t ask her to come, and I sure in the hell didn’t want her there. She refuses to go the fuck away even though she’s got to know her presence makes me fucking nauseous.

Up ahead, a sign points us to the next gas station, so I switch lanes and flip on the turn signal when I get close enough.

Once I finish filling up the Bronco, I hang the pump up and head toward the store. A muffled familiar ringtone sounds out, and I pause, thinking it’s mine. I go to reach for it in my pocket, but when it doesn’t ring again, I shrug and continue inside.

The couple standing in line in front of me are arguing animatedly about something fucking pointless, and two teenagers are horseplaying around off to the side while they wait for their father to finish paying.

It’s always amazed me how life seems to go on for others after life has ended for someone else. Of course, those others are strangers, but to me, it just feels fucking weird.

When I get back to the Bronco, I go to hand Lyric her drink only to find her with her head leaned to the side, fast asleep. With a sigh, I climb in, sitting Lyric’s drink in the backseat next to her.

“Did you get me something?”

I glance over at Heather, something in her tone sounding off. “No. You didn’t ask.”

Heather’s fidgeting, and her eyes bounce around, landing anywhere except on me.

She better fucking not have.

Reaching over, I grip her chin tightly and turn her face toward mine. Her eyes still seem clear. “Why are you fidgetin’?”

With a snarl, she jerks away from me. “I’m not fucking doing drugs.” Finally, her shoulders sag. “I’m just jumpy from today. Can we get going so I can get home?”

“Thank you for keepin’ up with Lyric today. It was a huge help,” I tell her reluctantly.

Heather smiles at me, but there’s something about it that has my skin pulling tight against me. “You don’t have to thank me for that, babe. She’s our daughter, which means she’s both our responsibilities. We’re a family.”

My skin grows tighter.

I put the Bronco in drive and head toward my house at a speed that is safely allowed with my daughter in the vehicle. Anything to get this woman out and the fuck away from me.

When did it get to the point that I can’t even stand to be around my daughter’s mother? How the fuck are we supposed to co-parent if I can’t even be in the same vicinity as her without wanting to take bleach to my goddamn skin?

“Might as well let her stay here since she’s already passed out,” I say as I pull Lyric from her seat and into my arms once we make it to the house. “You should head on out.”

It probably would have been smarter if I stood there and made sure she climbed in her car to leave because then she wouldn’t have been able to corner me when I walk out of Lyric’s room.

Heather walks straight up to me and places her lips on mine. I freeze as familiarity rushes over me, but then her tongue pokes out and touches my lips, and disgust and anger roll in.

Jerking back, I shove her away. Probably harder than I should considering she teeters on her heels, but I can’t find it in me to give a single flying fuck right now. I lift my hand and swipe it across my mouth, wiping away the grimy feel of her saliva as I fight back the nausea that threatens to erupt.

“Fuckin’ told you,” I growl. “Don’t ever fuckin’ touch me without permission. The fuck made you think I wanted your goddamn mouth on mine?”

“I’m sorry, Steel. I totally read you wrong,” she replies in a sweet voice that’s unfamiliar coming from her. “I thought we were getting along so well and then you smiled when I said we were a family, so I just thought this would be okay.”

A grimace is far from a happy smile. There was definitely no fucking smile from me when she mentioned anything about being a family because just the thought is horrifying. Lyric is the only thing from her that is my family. There’s nothing else from this woman that I want.

Maybe it’s time to let her know that.

Heather must read something on my face because before I can even open my mouth to start that conversation, her lips curl at the corners. “I’m going to head home. I want Lyric home tomorrow.”

I lift a brow, not saying anything because she knows damn well that I’ll bring my daughter home when I’m ready to. It’s been that way for the last six years, don’t know why it’d change now.

She lets out a huff and marches out the door, letting the screen door slam shut behind her.

Something changed with her since this morning. I noticed it when I got back in the Bronco after I stopped at the gas station, but I don’t have the fucking energy to have my brain figure it the fuck out. It’s not like I really give a shit.

Closing the door, I lock up and head to my room after checking in on Lyric. I want to grab a shower before I whip up some dinner for us, and I also want to give Bailee a call and let her know how much I appreciate her message this morning.

The hot water loosens the rigidness of my body, and I brace my arms against the shower wall as I let the water rain down, massaging my achy muscles while my mind drifts to everything that’s piling on my plate.

Killer and his club coming after Bailee. I’m pretty sure he’s been taking small hits at our fucking club too, I just haven’t been able to prove shit yet.

Crow and the fucking mess from his past. It’s getting vicious, and we’re beginning to lose people over it.

Bozo being fucking killed.

Then I got whatever bullshit that’s going on with Heather. Gut’s telling me she’s not clean, that she hasn’t ever been, but she’s just gotten better at hiding it. That or she’s staying clean when she’s around me. It’s probably why I’ve been having Lyric more than I used to. Not that I’m complaining. I’d move my girl in here tomorrow if I knew it’s what she wanted.

If I add in fighting whatever the hell I’m feeling for Bailee, it’s no wonder I’m fucking exhausted. A person is only supposed to go so long without food and water before they slowly wither away. Bailee, I’m slowly learning, is my food and water. She’s the main sustenance I need to breathe, but I keep fighting it.

When the water starts to cool, I wash up quickly and climb out, pulling on a pair of briefs, sweats, and a tank. Then I head into the kitchen to figure out what the hell I’m going to make for me and my girl for dinner.

As I search around, I grab my phone and try to give Bailee a call, scowling when it only rings once before going to voicemail. I shoot off a quick message to let her know to call me when she gets time so I can hear her voice. When it gets read but there’s no reply, I try to call again, only to get sent straight to voicemail.

She’s working, that’s why. She’ll call when she gets a chance. She always does.

I push it from my mind and continue with what I was doing.

My fridge is running low on ingredients, but I have eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, and a bell pepper, so I grab those out, setting them on the counter. I dig through the pile of potatoes until I find the two biggest and set them with the rest of the stuff while I check the bread cabinet to see if I have a loaf left.

“Daddy?” Lyric’s sleepy voice calls as she pads into the kitchen.

She’s changed out of her romper and into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

“Hey, Princess. Looks like we’re havin’ breakfast for supper. Dad’s gonna have to hit the store tomorrow for some groceries or else we’re goin’ to end up starvin’.”

Lyric giggles, and I smile at the sound, never failing to fall in love with my daughter’s laugh every time I hear it.

“Breakfast is my favorite. You know that, silly.”

My mouth drops open in mock surprise when I crack some eggs into the mixing bowl. “Say it ain’t so. I thought that was some other beautiful little girl around here I call daughter.”

Lyric rolls her eyes with a smirk and props her chin on her fist as she watches me. She’s quiet, and when I peer over at her, I can see her brain working hard behind her eyes. I wait her out, knowing whatever it is, she’ll bring it up to me when she’s ready, and I continue with breakfast.

I’m chopping up the bell pepper when she finally decides to broach the subject.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“When are me and Mommy moving back in with you?”

The knife freezes mid-chop, her question surprising me. But then I play it over and take note of the tone of her voice. There’s a quiet sadness and a bit of apprehension hidden in there.

I set the knife down and wipe my hands on the towel before making my way around the island to where she’s sitting. “What made you ask that, Princess?”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and chews on it, one of the nervous tics I’ve noticed she’s picked up over the last few years.

With a sigh, I grab the roll of paper towels, tear a piece off, and run it under cold water then reach over and pull her lip from between her teeth. “Told you about that, Lyric. Goin’ to hurt yourself.” I dab at it with the paper towel, wiping away some of the little beads of blood that have blistered on the top layer of her lip. “Did Mom say you were?”

When she doesn’t say anything, I know that my girl isn’t going to. That’s one thing I love about her—she’s so damn loyal to those she loves, even if they barely fucking deserve it.

Pulling out the stool next to her, I climb onto it and turn toward her. I try to figure out what answer she’s wanting from me, but just like everything else, the ability to hide her emotions is something else she’s gotten from me. Mostly, I think it’s because she’s always terrified to let Heather know how she’s really feeling, which is fucking sad.

My failure to provide her with a happy life creeps up on me again, especially since I’m still fresh from Bozo’s funeral and his wishes for me regarding Lyric. I don’t know if me not being with Heather is the right thing for Lyric, but I know that me wanting my girl to have a two-parent household is merely a wish that I think most parents want for their children. But there are single parents out there slaying every single fucking day, and their children grow up strong, smart, and healthy. If I’m honest with myself, the only way I’m going to fail Lyric is if Heather and I do get back together, because then I’m just putting her right back into the toxic homelife she was in before I left.

With that thought in mind, I reach over and tug a piece of her hair, smiling at her softly. “I ever lie to you about anything, Lyra?” She shakes her head. “Right, so not goin’ to start now. Your mom and me, it ain’t happenin’, kiddo. The only ones who are goin’ to be livin’ in this house right now are you and me. Got a life that your mom isn’t goin’ to be a part of like that anymore. We tried and we couldn’t make it. Want nothing but the best for you, Princess. All I ever wanted was to make sure you’re happy, but I can’t do that if I’m not, and I realized that being with your mom doesn’t make me that way. Might not be what you want to hear, but it is what it is. That’s where I’m at with it. For now, it’s just you and me, Lyra. Are you good with that?”

“I want you happy, Daddy.” Her little head drops for a few minutes and then she peers up at me with glossy eyes. “I’m not happy with Mommy either,” she whispers, causing my heart to constrict in my chest.

“Lyra, has something happened?” I ask as calmly as I can. The question is pointless. I know she’s not going to tell me anything. “Just answer me one thing. Has she physically hurt you? Has anyone else?”

“No.”

I blow out a breath. “Okay. Good. That’s good. We’ll figure everything else out, ‘kay? Now, how about you finish your dinner, and we’ll watch a movie or two before bed?”

Lyric narrows her eyes. “Do I get to pick?”

I squint back at her. “Horror, action, comedy, or romance?”

They’re the four genres I know she’s crazy over, with horror being her number one. I swear that girl of mine could tell you anything you want to know about any fucking horror flick ever made. She likes to watch a few feel-good movies tossed in, which is when she’ll turn to some romance or comedy, but they’re never the first she’ll choose.

Her lips quirk into a lopsided smile. “Romance.”

Wretching noises come from my throat as I pretend to throw up, and her giggles bounce around the kitchen, sending a rush of warmth and love through my heart. “Gross. Romance makes my eyes bleed.”

Lyric crinkles her nose as her giggles die down. “You’re so goofy.” She pats me on the head and digs into her food. “One day, Daddy, you’re going to thank me for making you watch these with me.”

My mouth twitches. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

She points the fork at me. “Because you’re going to be absolutely hopeless when a woman walks into your life. You’re going to need me and all my romance movie knowledge, Daddy.”

I swallow the bite of omelet before asking, “That so?”

“Yep.”

“What if you’re the only female I need in my life, Princess?” I tease.

“Nope. No way, Daddy. I want a brother or sister.”

This time, I choke on the bite I’m about to swallow. “Now, hold on a minute.”

Lyric shovels the last bite into her mouth, downs the rest of her milk, and hops from her stool. “All finished. Gotta go pick a movie.”

“Wait, we’re not finished here. I demand a negotiation,” I call playfully, leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes at the sound of her laughter as she skips away.

The truth is, as scared as I am of her and Bailee meeting, it’s been on my mind a lot today. Losing Bozo, attending his funeral, and listening to the words from Wraith, they’ve had my mind whirling with possibilities of a future I’d never really thought about before. A future with Bailee, Lyric, me, and maybe, just maybe, a few other little miniature versions of both of us running around.

Those thoughts still terrify the hell out of me, but not as much as they did before today.

I think Lyric could benefit from having someone like Bailee in her life. Someone who shows love unconditionally and without restraint. Someone who loves others even when they least deserve it. Bailee will love Lyric simply because she’s a part of me, but all it will take is Lee meeting my daughter for her to love Lyric because she’s her . It won’t come with conditions like it does with her mother. Lyric won’t have to watch Bailee always be “sick” because she’s too fucking doped-up to take care of her. I think with Bailee in her life, my girl will blossom into the person she should be instead of always trying to hide her emotions because she’s too afraid of how someone will react to them.

Suddenly, I don’t feel like a fucking failure when it comes to Lyric. For once, I feel like I’m doing the right thing, and it feels goddamn wonderful.

“Daddy, are you coming? I have the best romance movie ever picked out!”

I let out a playful groan loud enough that she can hear it. “Lyra! My eyes! They’re already starting to bleed. Hurry and change it.”

Hell may be raining down outside these walls, but inside here, I have one of the two people who matter most.