Walk Through Fire (Chaos, #4)(105)

They had nothing of their mother in them.

Deb was blonde and blue-eyed. When she’d started to go gray, she shocked the shit out of him by caring and turning to a bottle. She did that in their bathroom, stinking up the place, something he didn’t like. But he didn’t say anything because it wasn’t worth it with the result since what she did made her look good.

She was pretty. She was relatively petite.

And she didn’t look anything like her girls.

She also didn’t look like Millie.

Millie was five-seven, which meant she had length to her, long shapely legs he got off on, but she was short enough she could put on heels and he’d still top her. Millie also had meat on her. A round ass. Full tits. A bit of a belly even back in the day when they were younger, something she hadn’t lost in the time in between.

He liked it. All of it. Even before Millie, the shape of Millie was what attracted him to a woman.

Deb was five-four. She was careful with what she ate. She worked out on her lunch hour and went to the gym on the weekends. She had to be at least five pounds underweight.

At her height, it looked good. Her tits grew when she had the girls and she didn’t lose them and that looked good too.

But there was not much to hold on to. Not much to dominate in bed. He’d f*cking loved hauling Millie’s ass around (and still did). Getting her where he wanted her, positioning her how he wanted her.

Deb got off on that, mildly, but there was no challenge to it. Fuck, he could throw her across the room without any effort. Not that he’d do that shit. Still, nothing was worth it that didn’t take work.

If Deb wasn’t at work and even when she wasn’t at the gym, she lived in workout gear. Skintight running pants. Those spaghetti strap camisoles in breathable fabrics. Adding a jacket when it got cold. Running shoes on her feet.

He’d like to see Millie filling out any of that shit.

What he wouldn’t like, and didn’t, was that being all he got.

Neither of their girls leaned toward their mother in any way. Both of them had his hair, very dark brown, lots of body and wave. They had his dark brown eyes too. They also had his frame. Long legs, proportioned torsos. They were tall for their age, so they were going to get his height.

They were already beautiful.

When that beauty ripened, he was going to be f*cked.

Worse, they were girls. They liked clothes. Hair shit. Boy bands. And Cleo was already asking to use makeup.

So that meant, when they got older, and the lure of boys got keener, he was absolutely going to be f*cked, not just because they’d turn their attention to guys, but the way they looked, boys would turn their attention to his babies.

But that was, he hoped to God, a few years away.

Right then, he had other shit to face.

And he needed to get down to it and face it.

“Babies,” he called, and Zadie’s eyes shot right to him even as she stuffed a piece of pepperoni in her mouth.

He grinned at her and looked to Cleo.

She was watching him soberly and doing it chewing with her mouth shut like her momma taught her.

High leaned forward. “Need to share somethin’ with you,” he told them gently. “Somethin’ important.”

Zadie threw her arms straight into the air as she cried, mouth full of pepperoni, “You got a house!” She dropped her arms and leaned into her hands on the table. “Can we go see? This weekend? After school? Do we have a big bedroom?”

He’d found a house.

But more, he’d got back the woman in it.

“It’s not a house, Zadie,” he replied.

Her face fell like he’d told her the world was coming to an end, but worse, it had run out of ice cream so she couldn’t stuff her face with it until the end of days.

“What is it, Daddy?” Cleo asked quietly, and he looked to his big girl.

“Straight up, worried how you both are gonna take this. So straight up, I’ll tell you again, it’s important. It’s important to me. And it’s important to me you both get what it means to me.”

Cleo’s face went guarded.

Zadie’s eyes got big.

High took in a breath and shared, “There was once a woman I knew who meant a lot to me. We’ve reconnected and found that didn’t fade with the years. We’re back together.”

Zadie collapsed back, ass to heels.

Cleo’s lips parted.

“She was before your mom,” High continued. “Haven’t seen her in longer than you been alive. But we’re back. She’s in my life. And I want you to meet her.”

“What about Mom?” Zadie asked, and High focused on her.

“Mom and Daddy are divorced, Zade,” Cleo informed her sister matter-of-factly before High could get in there. “And since they are, you need to deal.”

“Cleo, baby, be sweet,” High said quietly.

“She needs to deal, Daddy,” she returned.

“You aren’t wrong, Clee-Clee, but you gotta be cool with your sister,” he replied.

She looked away, not miffed, embarrassed.

He and his Cleo were tight. They had a bond. Normally, she could do no wrong in her father’s eyes and she knew it. Blossomed under it. Fucking loved it.

So whenever he laid it out, she wasn’t good at handling it.

“This sucks,” Zadie snapped, and High looked to her. “You and Mom belong together,” she declared.