Busted Steel: An Age Gap Stand Alone Romance (Steel Crew Book 6)

by Mj Fields

  Dad reaches over and grabs my hand. “I want to hate him.”

  “But you can’t, because I love him.”

  He scowls. “He needs a haircut.”

  “If he cut his hair, I would cry for a month.”

  He shakes his head. “Gotta ask; did he ever—”

  “No, Dad, you don’t, because you already trust him enough to know the answer to that question. And you don’t because I need you, my daddy, to be better than just okay with this. I need him to be happy for me and to love Ranger like his own flesh and blood; have his back like he would have yours, mine, and Tris’s, even if money wasn’t exchanged. And if you ever question that, he never left. Through all of it, he stood in her corner.”

  “Like I left?” comes out of the surround sound.

  Startled, I turn from Dad and realize everyone was listening to us.

  “That’s not what—”

  “I got this, Brisa,” Tris cuts me off then walks up to the TV. “I pushed you away just as hard as I did my family. Harder because you showed me an outlet for my issues, and I didn’t want you to be there when I went dark again.”

  Dad stands up and walks to her right at the same time Matteo gets up and walks to her left.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed about. No one here will judge you.”

  She looks back at me. “The one I was most worried about, the one I’ve always wanted to be like but never was, proved that.”

  “Love you the most,” I whisper.

  “That’s fucked up, you know,” Amias jokes.

  “Oh, hush,” I say, looking back at Tris as she looks up at the screen.

  “I’m bipolar.”

  The room falls even more silent than it was moments ago.

  She continues, “I pushed you away, Patrick, because I knew I was holding you back.”

  “T, I am so sorry.” Patrick shakes his head. “I’m so fucking sorry I—”

  “Don’t be sorry. God, please, none of you be sorry for me. That’s the one thing that scared me the most. And—”

  “It’s not a fucking STD,” Xavier cuts in. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Trouble. You feel me?”

  Tris nods and smiles sadly at him.

  “Straight-up, half the artists in the world carry something inside them that everyone sees as a stigmatism, but in a beautiful and fucked-up way, it’s a gift. You manage it. You tell all of us when you’re high and low, and we adjust. Or, we see it coming, we tell you, and you adjust before you get in a funky-ass headspace. None of us are judging you. We love you.”

  “I love you all, too. I get that now. But being the black sheep of the family is—”

  “Don’t diss those of us who choose a different path. That’s how legends are made, right, Momma Joe?”

  Everyone laughs.

  “Let’s do this Thanksgiving thing, and then all crash Brisa’s pad on Sunday when we get back. Sutton’s coming, too.” Xavier winks, piss and vinegar in his eyes.

  “I never said that,” she gasps.

  “You sit back like a good little girl and do as you’re told,” Uncle Xavier says sternly.

  She dives over Patrick and lunges at him. “What part of feminist do you not get?”

  The four of them fall into laughter, and as soon as she figures out that Uncle X is messing with her, so do we.

  Ranger walks back into the room; Luna in front of him, one boy on each side, holding his hands. He smiles down at them with the same ease that he smiled at me all those years ago.

  “You’re even more beautiful in love,” Mom says from across the table.

  “How could I not be? He’s—”

  “Stunning,” Mom finishes my sentence.

  I look at Dad. “And I’m sorry for what I’m about to say, but God, we’re going to have beautiful babies.”

  “You will. But finish college first.”

  “God no, I wanna start right now, or at least practice on the daily.”

  When the room erupts in laughter, I realize I did it again.

  Face burning, I turn around, hoping he missed the whole thing. But he’s Ranger, so of course he didn’t.

  “Last I asked Ranger, he didn’t want a family of his own. He was happy to share ours,” Momma Joe says in that way that demands an explanation to a question she didn’t truly ask.

  He sits down next to me and shakes his head. “You’ve turned my entire world upside down. When the shit went down when you were fifteen, there wasn’t any romantic feelings on my end. I just saw this girl who looked at me like I was something much better than I was. She didn’t look at me and see a long-haired, inked-up, badass biker, or ex-military man with some major issues. And she didn’t look at me like females with … other intentions did, either. Then she showed up a second time that same night and planted her lips on mine like she was claiming me. Found out four years ago that she was fifteen while surrounded by all of you.”

  “Was I here?” Cooper asks.

  “Yeah, you were in jailbait’s belly.”

  “Oh my God.” Kiki cringes.

  Archer scowls. “What’s jailbait?”

  “Your cousin Brisa, four years ago.” Ranger chuckles.

  Half the room laughs. The ones who don’t are the ones who now have some explaining to do.

  He lifts his chin to Archer. “You know how your momma taught you that you don’t put hands on a girl unless you love them?”

  Archer crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah.”

  “Well, you also don’t love someone younger or older than you until you’re over eighteen.”

  “Why does love come with so many rules?” Cooper asks.

  “Because it’s the most important thing in the world, so we gotta protect it,” Ranger explains. “And until all the stars align and both you and the one you love are in the right headspace, you don’t let go.” He looks at me. “You hear me? That’s how this thing is gonna work.”

  I nod, smiling like a fool.

  He looks at Mom, then Dad, then Momma Joe, and finally me and the boys; one on his lap and one on mine. “You two missing some numbers?”

  “What does that mean?” Cooper asks.

  “You need more crew?”

  They nod.

  “You gonna look out for them?”

  Again, they nod.

  He looks at me. “Then I’m gonna put a baby in you as soon as you’re ready.”

  Jase loses it immediately. “How you feeling, Z?”

  Dad looks at me then Jase. “I’m feeling like we should all be thankful for raising our girls to fall in love with men like their daddies.”

  I raise my glass. “To daddies, may you be raised by a good one and find one who makes the phrase daddy issues sound less like a problem and more like a day at Disney.”

  Cooper claps. “I wanna go to Disney.”

  “Yeah, me, too. Maybe when they get married, they can take us.” Archer nods firmly.

  Canada

  Epilogue

  Ranger

  “This is some shit,” Tris grumbles as the needle buzzes against her skin.

  “You need a break?” Brisa and I ask her at the same time. Then we look at each other and smile. Shit happens all the damn time. It’s fucked up in the best kind of way.

  I knew there was no one else who could take me to that place sexually that she does, and I knew it from the first lick. But I never thought that, even outside the bedroom, or any other place I fuck her when she gets that look, I would feel that connection. Brisa says it gives her a spiritual orgasm, and when she tried to explain it, I told her no need ’cause I feel it, too.

  I feel every damn thing when it comes to her. It was overwhelming from the get-go, and it scared the fuck out of me. Hell, if I wasn’t head up my ass in love with her, I would have run when she pushed me to talk about my past. The almost rape. When she wanted to know about Sissy who lives out west with my old man and his ‘brothers’, about my mom who’s in a nursing home a few miles from them, that I pay for because I do feel
responsible for her but refuse to face her. I would have run… but now I don’t want to go a day not feeling it. Feeling her love.

  “Hell no! I miss this feeling.”

  “You miss pain?” Brisa asks.

  “I do,” Tris says as she pushes her AirPod into her ear and closes her eyes. “Just get it done.”

  She’s been high since Thanksgiving, writing her ass off, and Matteo has been sculpting. It’s their reality, and it works for them. They’ve been staying at Zandor and Bekah’s, and things are going well now that everyone is on the same page and she’s not trying to hide it from anyone.

  I stop to stretch and catch Brisa looking at her fresh ink, the work she asked me to do back in Norway.

  No matter where, on Brisa’s wrist below two hands linking pinkies, and no matter what, with the same hands is, “Just about finished.”

  “How are you feeling?” Brisa asks Matteo, who I finished up before starting these two.

  “It’s beautiful.” He places his hand over his heart where he has a forever sign of his love for our little bit of Trouble.

  He took on one hell of a piece for his first. Add to that some scar tissue involved from a surgery he had as a child and I was fucking impressed with his pain threshold.

  He drew his piece—a pocket watch with no hands, opened, with Tris’s face on the left and the letters M-I A-M-O-R M-I V-I-D-A in a circle, replacing the numbers. Worked out perfectly. Kind of fucked up since I strongly suggest to everyone that they avoid putting people into their work because, let’s face it, tattoos outlive most relationships.

  I started a piece for Brisa a couple days after we started chapter two of our HEA. From just above her knee, over her hip, and up her hot as fuck ass, I did flowers, and inside the semi-circle is a lion’s head. She’s under the impression it’s how I see her. It is.

  To me, she’s the beautiful part, the lavender flowers, surrounding, nurturing and, in a sense, protecting the heart of the lion, a lion who will protect her more fiercely than any person on the planet but is happy to lay surrounded by her warmth forever.

  I had my first back piece done. My back is now an atlas of the world with passport stamps inked everywhere we’ve been. She loved it. I knew she would. It was inspired by her postcards, which solidified the depth of who she is and brought me to my fucking senses.

  The doorbells chime as I wipe the ink and blood away from Tris’s finished piece.

  “Dad? Mom?” Brisa laughs as she walks over and hugs them. “What’s up?”

  “I asked them to come. Thought after he does a bit of work on me, we could all have dinner.”

  “Good, because I could eat a horse.” Tris stands up.

  “Come here. I’ll wrap you up while Dad does his thing.” Bekah walks toward the tray.

  I pull off my shirt as I ask, “Amias coming?”

  Zandor shakes his head. “He’s got some club party tonight.”

  “Who’s picking him up?” Brisa asks.

  “Max said he would.” Dad laughs. “Guessing it’s so he can score something off Seashore campus.”

  “He’s racking up quite the numbers, huh?” Tris plops down on Matteo’s lap and takes the granola bar he’d opened for her in one hand while Bekah wraps up her other.

  “He’ll find where he’s supposed to be,” Brisa says sweetly as she sits on the stool above my head and scratches her nails gently over my scalp.

  “Or get a disease trying.” Tris laughs.

  “You realize God didn’t give any of us more than one boy?” Z laughs.

  “He wanted you to feel what all those mothers felt when y’all knocked on the door.” Bekah laughs.

  “I was more a window guy, Kitten. Only knocked on the ones I wanted to impress, which was exactly one—yours.”

  “That would be real sweet, Z, if I didn’t know the amount of women who came in and out of this shop to have “work” done.”

  “That’s an urban legend,” he defends himself.

  “You do remember I worked here, right? You trained me. But I also worked the desk and scheduled appointments, right?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says flatly. “You ready, Ranger?”

  “Always.”

  “So, we’re adding Canada?” he asks, as planned.

  “No, we haven’t gone to Canada,” Brisa tells him.

  “Thinking we should,” I say over the buzz of the gun. “You wanted to see the Northern Lights, and Captain Asshat isn’t getting our money, so”—I wait for Z to hand her the envelope—“thinking tonight, we fly up for a few nights so you can check that off your list, and then we come up with a new one for next year.”

  “OMG, I am so jealous,” Tris grumbles.

  “Don’t be. We’re all going. It’s Brisa and my Christmas gift to you all.”

  “Um, hello? I had no idea, so that’s all you, Mr. No Surprises.”

  “The trip isn’t a gift from you, per say, but being able to experience something beautiful through your eyes is one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received. That’s your gift to them.”

  “Wait—are we going, too?” Bekah asks.

  “All of us.” I nod.

  “This is epic,” Brisa says, lying back in our ice igloo, looking up at the dancing green and yellow lights. “I can’t believe they came for us. Do you know how many people go years and years chasing this moment?”

  “Of course they came for you. You talk to the stars like they’re your friends,” I remind her.

  “I started talking to the stars after I met you. I knew you were sleeping under the same stars as I was, and it made me feel less alone. You would have known that if you hadn’t blocked me.” She nudges me.

  “Always had eyes on you, even when I wasn’t here.” And it’s true, I did.

  “Not because you were pining after me,” she says dramatically and places her hand over her heart.

  “Yeah, well, I was more concerned with you ending up on a milk carton or the nightly news.” I grab her hand, bring it to my lips, and kiss it. “We’re exactly where we are supposed to be at the exact time we are supposed to be here. It took postcards for me to solidify you were going to own me forever, so I wanted to give you a sign.” I point up. “There it is.”

  She pushes off the blanket and starts to unzip her fucking snow gear. “You know how badly I want to—”

  I quickly stand up off the bed. “To build a snowman?”

  She shakes her head. “We’re not doing the whole synching up thing right now. I’m searching for an actual orgasm, not a spiritual one.”

  “I really wanna build a snowman.” I laugh, shoving my feet into my boots.

  “Right now, I’m so hot for you that poor Frosty would melt before—”

  I open the door and walk out.

  “Wait! What the hell?” She laughs.

  Once outside, I look around to make sure the others are paying attention when Brisa comes bounding out of our igloo and runs at me like a tiny linebacker.

  “I’m gonna kick your butt, Wyatt Dalton.” Then she dives on me, and I fall back in the snow. Both of us laugh as I help her up, but only push up on one knee.

  She covers her mouth, immediately knowing exactly what’s going on.

  “I love you, Brisa Steel. You’re mine, and I am yours in every way that counts. I want to give you everything you deserve and more. And I really want to have the honor of calling my Little Bit of everything my wife. Marry me.” I hold up the ring that’s been in my pocket since I received it from its last destination in Mexico.

  When she doesn’t say anything, I ask, “Brisa, will you marry me?”

  “I think she’s frozen,” Tris calls.

  “B,” Amias, who Zandor said wasn’t able to make it—part of the smoke screen—calls out, “I’ve seen his uppercut and am pretty sure, from that position, it’s bound to leave a mark.”

  The first tear falls, and when she nods her head yes, tears then fall like the waterfalls in Argentina, pouring
down her beautiful face.

  I stand and kiss her, feeling her trembling from the cold and from the amount of emotions she’s feeling and I’m feeling.

  “I love you more than all the forevers, Brisa.”

  “I love you more than all the stars.”

  Brisa

  Lips trembling from the cold, he lifts me up, ring still in his hand, as he walks us to the igloo, and then inside.

  “Let’s get you warmed up and get this ring on you.”

  My feet hit the ground, but my head is definitely still in the stars.

  “I didn’t expect this so soon. I thought you’d make me wait until I was done with college.”

  “Done making you wait for me to catch up.” He pulls my mittens off and brings my hands to his lips, blowing his warm breath on them.

  “The ring, it’s the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.”

  “It’s been around the world. The center diamond, from Italy, where I finally saw you as a woman. The others surrounding it came from all the countries we traveled. A jeweler that your dad suggested set it for me.”

  “God, you’re seriously so much more than I ever dreamt of.”

  “And you’re everything I was afraid could hurt me, but fuck if I can stay away.” He pushes the ring on my finger.

  “My God, it’s—”

  “No more words. I need to feel you.” He crashes his lips against mine as we both fumble with zippers and snaps until we’re both completely bare. Then he grabs me up and lays me on the bed, hovering over me. I pull the hair tie, releasing his thick, soft, silky mane so that it tickles my face, my shoulders, my tits.

  His kisses are softer, sweeter, and more … tender than before.

  He pushes my hair, that has now grown back to below my shoulders, away from my face, his blue eyes darker as he stares down at me and reaches between us, working to get me wetter than I am, working my chilled body to a blazing heat. My center warming and melting like butter around his fingers. I know what this means. He’s going to fuck the life nearly out of me, and I am so here for it.

  “I want you so inside me,” I moan, arching my back, my nipples pressing against him, an orgasm rising like the morning dawn. I open my mouth to cry out, and he thrusts fully inside me as I quiver around him.