Page 87 of Burned in Stone
“I’m getting coffee,” Poppy says, still giggling as she stands. “Anyone want?”
“Me,” Mercy says, following her to help.
I watch them go. Two women who’ve become sisters in the way that matters.
“You look happy,” Bones observes, putting his phone down.
“I am happy.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
He says it like it’s fact. Like I’ve earned this somehow.
Maybe I have. Maybe surviving all that shit, choosing not to become it, fighting for something better—maybe that counts. Maybe the MC was right: your past doesn’t define your worth. Your choices do.
“What about you? You seem on edge.”
“Just waiting for the princess’s plane to land. Stone’ll have my balls if I’m late picking Emma up.”
Stone’s daughter is a club legend—depending on who’s telling the story—and her coming home for Christmas has had Stone wound tight even before the Summit showdown. But there’s an extra sharpness to Bones, like he’s holding a grenade and trying not to let us see his hand’s already pulled the pin.
“You sure that’s all?” Bones doesn’t get nervous, doesn’t clock watch. He’s overeager about something.
Bones grins. “Everything’s good. Just enjoying the rare moment of peace. Club’s humming. Summit’s scrambling. The worst person in the world is locked up for the holidays. Feels like the universe is giving us an early gift.”
“You sure that’s it? You seem excited or something.”
He shrugs. “How’re the ribs?” He gestures at my face, which is finally starting to look human again. The swelling’s gone down, bruises fading to yellow-green.
“Better. Still can’t sneeze without wanting to die.”
“Give it another week.”
Duck calls out. “Someone grab this end before I drop the whole damn thing.”
Tank rushes over, nearly trips over Adam, catches himself. “I got it.”
“Careful, you oaf. These are Maggie’s good lights.”
“There are good lights?”
“I dunno. Maggie calls them that. Far as I’m concerned, they’re all the same.”
Maggie appears like a summoned demon. “Robert Alan Mallory, they are not the same. These are LED with timer function and?—”
“I’m sorry!” Duck holds up his hands. “They’re beautiful lights. The best lights. Worth every penny.”
“Damn right.” Maggie stalks off, satisfied.
Tank grins up at Duck. “Whipped.”
“You have no idea.” But Duck’s smiling.
This is what family looks like. Not blood. Not obligation. Just people who show up. Who hang Christmas lights and babysit each other’s kids and celebrate whenever something good happens—and sometimes even when they don’t.
Stone emerges from his office. “Bones, you and Steel ready to head out?”
Bones jumps up. “Emma’s flight lands in two hours. We should leave now to beat traffic.”
