Walk Through Fire (Chaos, #4)(71)

Her head jolted.

“I hear, Low,” she said quietly.

“Do not f*ck up again, Dot,” he warned, then went on, “First up for you, you put the brakes on whatever moves she’s made to get outta Denver.”

Another tear escaped but her lips quirked as she muttered, “Seems we Cross women have a type. Bossy.”

Was she f*cking serious?

“I’m not thinkin’ anything at this juncture is funny,” he growled.

She pressed her lips together before she nodded and said, “Right. Of course. Consider the brakes put on.” She tipped her head to the side. “Do you wanna get out of the snow and come inside where it’s warm to boss me around? You do that, I’ll make cocoa and introduce you to my kids.”

He didn’t want cocoa.

He did want to meet her kids.

And f*ck him, he was pissed as all hell at her but he was that at the same time he forgot how much he liked the bitch.

“You got an important job, focus and don’t f*ck up,” he said as reply.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Fuck, the Cross sisters.

Pains in the asses and too goddamned cute for their own good.

Dottie was demonstrating mostly the first part and he was screwed because he was ticked beyond reason and he still liked it.

Christ.

“Get on that,” he muttered, turning. “I got shit to do.”

He moved off her stoop but stopped and twisted back to her when she called his name.

“Missed you,” she said, face soft, voice soft, words easing a nasty sting he’d been living with so long it had become a part of him. “You let go me f*cking up, I’ll let go the shit you’ve been pulling the last coupla months. And I’ll start all that by saying I’m glad to have you back, Logan.”

He stared at her a beat and said nothing.

Then he turned from her and walked away, that sting still there, but suddenly it didn’t hurt so goddamned much.

Not looking back at her house, he got in his truck, started up, made a decision, and took his chance before the snow got worse.

He drove to his RV.

Once there, he packed a bag.

Then he drove to the Compound.

He moved through the space crowded with people who gave a shit and were worried.

As he moved, he asked Tack, “Food in?”

“Yep,” Tack answered.

“Out in my truck,” High ordered.

Tack’s lips twitched.

High ignored that and went to his room, which meant he moved back through the space crowded with people carrying a totally out of it Millie.

Big Petey lumbered in front of him, right there to open the door to the backseat of the cab so High could move in and carefully lay her there.

He shut the door quietly, turned and saw Pete in his space, Tack several feet back, Cherry standing at her man’s side.

“Get home,” he ordered them as the snow fell heavy all around them.

“You good?” Pete asked.

High looked down at Pete.

“I will be,” he stated, and turned, brushing against Big Petey when he did.

He opened his door, climbed in, and drove on roads getting bad to Millie’s house.

He carried her inside, put her in her own bed in a room that had been straightened, probably by Dot, sometime while she was away.

It was picture perfect again.

She was going to have to kiss that good-bye.

High didn’t live immaculate.

And neither did his Millie.

High moved back out to his truck, got his bag and the groceries, and brought them in.

He put the shit that needed to go into the fridge away. He left the other shit wherever he found a place for it on the counters.

Before he took his boots off, sitting on the ottoman to her big chair, he stared at the crate, wondering how she got it back and deciding he’d learn that after they waded through twenty years of colossal f*ckups.

He was just glad it wasn’t gone.

He left his boots on the floor where he took them off.

He tossed his cut on her couch.

Then he walked back to her room, climbed under the covers with her, pulled her in his arms, and tangled himself up in Millie.

She felt so good sleeping woven up in him it was like he’d lost a limb and it had miraculously grown back.

He tipped his chin so his face was in the top of her hair.

I gave you up, walking through fire to do it but I did it. I did it in the end. I gave you everything.

He’d f*cked up, the stunt he pulled at Wild Bill’s field and everything after, the penance he made her pay for a sin she never committed.

But he’d fix it.

Then it was his turn.

Finally, f*cking finally.

It was his turn to give her everything.

Twenty years ago...

Logan stood in his and Millie’s bathroom, the little pink, flat, round case in his hand.

It was opened.

It was empty.

He knew her cycle so he knew that wasn’t right.

She was close to graduating.

His girl worked for it. She worked her ass off for it. She worked to get it, to give it to him, and she’d succeeded.

Three years and she was going to graduate.

And he knew by the empty pill case in his hand that she didn’t f*ck around getting her degree, she wasn’t going to f*ck around about other stuff that was even more important.