Walk Through Fire (Chaos, #4)(106)

He opened his mouth but Cleo got there before him again. “Wake up, Zade. That’s so not true.”

“Cleo,” High said low.

She shut her mouth.

“You wake up, Clee-Clee,” Zadie, eyes narrowed at her sister, shot back.

“Zadie, darlin’, look at your old man,” High prompted.

She turned narrowed eyes and pouting mouth his way.

“What your mom and I had is done, baby. She’s moved on. I’m movin’ on,” he explained.

“She hasn’t moved on,” Zadie returned angrily.

“She has, Zade. She’s like, so totally cooler now that Daddy’s not around,” Cleo stated then her eyes darted to her father. “Sorry, Daddy. But it’s true.”

“I get that,” he replied. “And givin’ that to your mom and gettin’ some of that myself is why we split.”

“You’re happier with Mommy,” Zadie declared, and got her dad’s attention back.

“I was happier bein’ with you,” he shared gently. “And now I’ll be happy, you be a good kid, take your dad’s back, meet Millie and open your mind because you meet her, you can’t help but like her.”

“Millie’s a stupid name,” she spat nastily.

The gentle went out of High and he did what he rarely did.

He stared into his baby girl’s eyes, not as her daddy, but as her father.

She fell to her hip in defeat and looked angrily at the edge of the table.

“I’ll be glad to meet her, Daddy,” Cleo said, and got her father’s smile.

“I’ll be glad to meet her, Daddy,” Zadie mimicked obnoxiously, and got her father’s attention.

“Zadie, look at me.” She stared at the edge of the table. “Won’t say it again,” he warned. Slowly, taking her time, she looked to him. “You’re upset, be upset at me. You’re feelin’ a lot and I get that. I know you don’t like what’s goin’ down and I don’t like that, but I can’t help it. All I can do is help you move along with your sister and me, and yes, your mom, but with your mom it’s in a separate way. What you do not do, ever, Zade, is take anything out on your sister. That’s not cool and both my girls are cool. Don’t prove that different.”

He got her with that.

Deb might not have been hip on Chaos but both his girls were brought up in the life. They had their father’s blood.

They were raised in his world.

They knew it was a priority to be cool.

He saw her chin wobble before she dropped her head to look at her lap.

“Hand,” he ordered.

Slowly, but with hesitation, not attitude, Zadie extended her hand on the table.

High wrapped his fingers around her little ones, and feeling their fragility, their warmth, the knowledge he had a part in creating those fingers, the pulse that beat in her wrist, he relaxed.

He also knew she might not make it easy, but she was her daddy’s girl.

She’d get there.

He gave her fingers a squeeze. “I need you to dig deep, Zadie. You got some time to dig deep and get there.” He looked to Cleo but kept hold of Zadie and went on, “But I got you this weekend and we’re spendin’ time with Millie. She’ll give us our space but we’ll be spendin’ a lot of time with her. And you’re my girls. I want you to show her how beautiful you are outside and all the way deep down. Will you do that for me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Cleo said instantly.

“Yes, Daddy,” Zadie said a lot more slowly, doing that to her lap and tugging her hand from his so he let her go.

He got that. He wasn’t going to push for more.

So he let more than Zadie’s hand go and asked, “Anyone want dessert or just me?”

“Cherry cream cheese pie,” Cleo declared.

He winked at his big girl and looked to his baby, who still had eyes to her lap.

“Zadie?” he prompted.

“Cinnamon bun ice cream,” she muttered.

Deb would tell her to look at her mother (or her father) while she was speaking.

High didn’t push shit like that. She was feeling a lot, she was a little kid, and she needed space in her head to sort through it.

So he left her to it and flagged down a waitress.

He ordered his girls’ dessert.

They ate it.

He paid the bill.

Then he got to the part that sucked, even when Zadie’s dreamworld had been crushed and she was in a mood because of it.

He took them home and left, leaving them behind.

*??*??*


He walked into the back door to Millie’s house and saw Joker slouched back in her big chair, Millie stretched out on her couch, and that British program on the TV.

But before he even stepped through the door, he saw Millie’s head up and her eyes to him over the arm of couch.

She’d heard his truck.

She was glad he was home.

“You’re torturing a brother with that shit program?” he asked.

The gladness leaked out of her face as attitude took its place.

“It’s not shit,” she returned. “Joker actually likes Downton Abbey.”

High looked to his brother.

Joker was already looking at him and High could see at a glance that was bullshit.