Page 56 of Burned in Stone
“He’s so good with them,” I observe.
“Steel loves kids,” Poppy says. “And kids love him. It’s hilarious watching this giant prospect turn into mush around them.”
“I’m not mush,” Steel protests. “I’m intimidating as fu?—.”
“Fairy floss,” Poppy puts in with a giggle.
“Fairy floss?” Ginger screws up her nose, confused.
“It’s what the Australians call cotton candy.”
Ginger starts to laugh, then covers her face with both hands, which only makes her laugh harder. “Fairy floss? That’s… no. I love it. Steel, from now on your name’s Fairy Floss.”
Steel looks horrified. “Please no,” he pleads. “Do you know how difficult it was to get a cool road name?”
“How’d you get the name Steel, anyway?” I ask.
“Got punched by some drunk when I was guarding the bikes at a bar. Guy broke his hand on my face.”
“Um, ouch. But OK. Steel makes sense.”
“No. I like Fairy Floss better,” Amy says, from where she’s now standing behind him on the chair, trying to braid the tinsel into his hair.
Ginger is still snort-laughing, head in her hands, hiccuping, “Fairy Floss,” she wheezes. “Oh my god.”
Poppy wipes tears from under her eyes. “Sorry, Steel. Sometimes democracy is cruel.”
Steel, for his part, surrenders with remarkable grace. “Fine. But I’m not answering to it.”
Then Abby yanks on his sleeve and says, “Fairy Floss, give me a piggyback!” And he cringes, but kneels immediately so she can clamber aboard.
The chaos is exactly what I need, like engine noise for the nerves. I let myself get lost in the riot of sugar, cheap tinsel, and Amy’s earnest attempts to build a tinsel mohawk on Steel’s head. My fears shrink down to a manageable size. In this moment, I feel untouchable. But not from muscle or protection—fromthe fierce, unexpected loyalty of this messy little family that’s claimed me back.
At some point, the hang-arounds manage to wrangle the twins by telling them they can help wrap gifts in the next room, and suddenly it’s just us adults again.
“Poor Steel,” I say once the kids are out of earshot. “Fairy Floss is going to stick, isn’t it?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Ginger confirms. “By dinner, the whole club will know.”
Steel groans, slumping in his chair. “I worked so hard for a cool name.”
“Could be worse,” Ginger offers. “There was a time when everyone called Nitro ‘Squeaky’ for six months.”
“Yeah, but he was still a kid, wasn’t he?” Steel says. “Balls had barely dropped.”
“And here’s Steel, fully grown and just too sweet for his own good,” Poppy teases.
The door opens and Maggie walks in carrying a box that rattles with every step. “Why is Tank outside trying to repair an inflatable Santa that looks like it’s been through a meth lab explosion?”
“Because he has no taste,” Ginger says immediately.
Maggie parks the box on the table with a huff, then flicks a glance at me. “Heard you had a rough morning.”
News travels fast in the MC. “I’m OK.”
“Course you are. You’re tough as nails under all that pretty.” She starts pulling out ornaments, each one wrapped in tissue paper. “Besides, that ex of yours is all bark. Men like him always are.”
“You don’t know Gabriel,” I say quietly.
