Walk Through Fire (Chaos, #4)(129)

There was a lot of beverage in that glass and liquid moves fast, so even though I saw her, it saturated the table between us, dripping over my side onto my jeans before I could push back my chair to avoid it.

I threw my napkin down on the spill. Cleo did the same with hers as did Logan. Zadie, moving slowly, did the same with hers. And at the hurried activity and the noise of my chair scraping, patrons around us turned our way.

“Need a towel,” Logan growled as I mopped Sprite up with napkins and I saw a busboy rush away. “Jeans are soaked,” he went on, this time talking to me.

I looked to my jeans. They were wet. They weren’t soaked.

“It’s not that bad,” I murmured, shoving all the napkins to my place setting.

“Oh no, did we have an accident here?” our waitress asked, moving in with a towel to sweep away the napkins and soak up the spill.

“No, we didn’t,” Logan answered, and my gaze skittered to him just as he announced, “We need our bill.”

Oh no!

“You’re leaving?” the waitress asked.

“We’re leaving?” Zadie asked.

“Zadie,” Cleo snapped in irritation.

No again!

“We’re leaving,” Logan stated inflexibly, his angry eyes aimed at his daughter, and I felt my heart start to race. “You hear me say strike one?” he asked Zadie.

Apparently, they only got one strike.

“But I just spilled my Sprite,” Zadie returned. “It was an accident and it’s all cleaned up now, so it isn’t that big of a deal.”

She did not just spill her Sprite. That was a bald-faced lie. She didn’t see me catch her doing it but she did it.

I kept that to myself and opened my mouth to get a word in but Logan was pissed and he got there before me.

“Jackets on,” Logan ordered in a tone not to be denied, then looked to the waitress. “Bill.”

I looked to our waitress too.

“I’m so sorry,” I said softly.

She nodded, not looking happy, and took off and we put on our jackets.

“I’ll deal with the bill. Zadie stays with me,” Logan stated. “Babe, you take Cleo to the truck.”

I wanted to question this too. I didn’t want him to make a big thing out of what Zadie did mostly because I didn’t want to be the reason she got into trouble.

But she’d essentially poured Sprite on me. Not liking me or not liking me with her dad or not liking the fact that her family had fallen apart or all of the above was no reason to do something that naughty. Dot and Alan would lose their minds if Katy or Freddie did anything like that at their ages, at Zadie’s age, or when they were fifty.

It appeared Logan’s daughter wasn’t only a dreamer.

It appeared she could be a brat.

So I looked to Cleo and said quietly, “Let’s go, sweetie.”

She looked to me, her dad, and her sister. She kept her eyes on her sister and I was surprised to see rebuke in them and not just a little of it.

Then she turned back to me and came my way.

We walked through the restaurant but I held her up at the front door so we didn’t have to stand outside in the cold for too long.

“Let’s stay here where it’s warm for a minute while your dad deals with the check,” I said.

“He’s not dealing with the check; he’s dealing with Zadie,” she replied, not looking at me, her head turned to look back from where we came.

I decided not to say anything.

Cleo kept her gaze aimed toward the restaurant when she continued, “She’s havin’ trouble with Mom and Daddy splitting.”

“Your father mentioned something about that,” I told her cautiously.

She looked up at me. “They split, like, ages ago.”

I nodded.

“And they were split it seems like before we were born.”

I was alarmed she held that knowledge and further, I had no clue how to reply.

“She needs to get over it,” Cleo told me.

“Something like that is difficult to get over, Cleo. Anything that hurts is difficult to get over. You just have to take the time it takes to lick your wounds and when they finally heal, or when they heal enough you’re able to carry on, you do that. You carry on. But things like that shouldn’t be rushed or the healing can go wonky. It may take your sister a little time, but she’ll get there and the people who love her just need to be patient.”

She stared up at me.

Then she said, “But she got Sprite on your jeans.”

I smiled at her and replied quietly, “Jeans wash, darling.”

She again stared at me but she did it like it was the first time she’d ever seen me and I was a being heretofore undiscovered.

I helped her power through that by tipping my head toward the restaurant and asking, “Do you think we’ve given them enough time? Should we head to the truck?”

She looked to the restaurant, saying, “I don’t know.” She turned back to me. “Dad doesn’t get mad very often. But when he does...”

She trailed off and I nodded quickly.

“Then let’s hang out here a bit,” I suggested. “Keep warm. I’ll be on the lookout and we can make a mad dash if I see them coming.”

She grinned up at me again without any guard behind it and I was again struck by how her beauty blossomed when she did that.