Walk Through Fire (Chaos, #4)(96)

Fuck, she was cute.

And with that cute right there, sitting next to him, weeping for some fictional people who never f*cking existed, High decided he’d find out what Tack was talking about at the meeting tomorrow morning.

Right then, he was going to be with his girl.

So he reached out a hand, caught her at her neck, and pulled her to him as he slouched deeper into the corner of her couch.

She adjusted immediately, curling into him as she curled her legs up beside her on the seat.

“You do know we’re watchin’ somethin’ else after this,” he told her, to which he felt her body go solid.

She then barked, “Xbox, pause.” The show paused and she lifted up and twisted to him.

“We are not.”

“Millie, you’re bawlin’ your eyes out. This program sucks.”

“It’s brilliant,” she declared.

“You’re bawlin’ your eyes out,” he repeated.

“The hallmark of good writing,” she returned.

He stared at her, mouth twitching.

He didn’t forget. Not any of it. Not any of her.

Including the fact that if she had a choice between a comedy or a drama or something that would send her over the edge and have her sobbing uncontrollably, she’d always pick the last.

Shit, he’d sat through Steel Magnolias three times and Terms of Endearment four. The bitches in those movies died seven times collectively and Millie blubbered each time like it was the first time she saw it and she didn’t see it coming.

And he’d sat through that because she snuggled deep when he did.

“Whatever,” he muttered as his cue he was giving in.

“Can I go back to Downton Abbey now?” she asked.

“Have at it,” he invited.

She grinned at him and he studied her, thinking he had not been wrong with what he threw in her face weeks ago.

His girl was the prettiest crier ever.

However, he liked this best of all, her grinning at him with wet cheeks because she got her way and that was because he gave it to her.

So she turned to the TV, called, “Xbox, play.” The action started again and he pulled her deeper into him.

She snuggled even closer.

Then High watched a show he gave not that first shit about.

And he decided he liked it.

Because Millie did.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Folded in the Arms of Chaos


Millie

MY ALARM CLOCK went off, and I untangled myself from Logan just enough to reach out a hand to hit snooze as Logan muttered, “Jesus, what the f*ck is that?”

I was too sleepy to laugh out loud but I still found that hilarious.

When my man was a recruit for the Club, he had duties that he was assigned, so he was up and at them even before I had to get up to go to school.

After he’d been initiated, when any duties he was assigned happened at night, he hated the alarm clock that I still had to use to get up for school. Told me he hoped there was a time in our lives we could toss it.

I suspected since then and now, he’d tossed it.

I rolled back into him. “Alarm clock, Snooks. I gotta get up and face the day.”

I didn’t want to. Like yesterday, I wanted to stay tangled up in Logan in as many ways as I could.

But we’d gotten partly back to life yesterday.

At first, it had freaked me out, Logan leaving to get groceries, me facing my desk.

In the end, it was good because it was normal.

But mostly because we did what we had to do separately, then he came back.

Furthermore, this was it. We had to face the new us.

I had to work. Logan had to look after his girls and do...?Logan things. We had to sort out life so we could go forward with it, together.

Unfortunately, starting now.

He lifted up, then collapsed back, wrapping me closer and muttering, “It’s f*ckin’ five forty-five.”

“I have a lot to catch up on and I work at home, essentially. But I always hit my desk like I’m going to work because it puts you in the right mind-set and you never know what’s going to happen. So I have a lot of prep work to do before I go to the office.”

He rolled into me, stating, “You can start later.”

I slid my hands to his shoulders and held firm there as I replied, “By prep work, I mean breakfast. Shower. Full makeup. The hair shebang. That kinda thing. And that kinda thing takes time.”

His lips hit the hinge of my jaw, slid down, where he murmured, “You can start later.”

I had felt warm. I had felt snuggly.

Now I felt tingles.

So I decided that I’d take breakfast to my desk. I’d also just blow out the top of my hair and let the rest air dry, then put it up in a ponytail.

That would give me time.

And if it wasn’t enough, I’d find other things to cut out.

So I slid my arms around his shoulders and dipped my chin to communicate what I wanted.

Logan gave it to me, lifting his head and taking my mouth with his own.

And it was on.

Eight minutes into it, the alarm sounded.

Logan reached out, grabbed hold of the clock, gave it a vicious yank, ignored my surprised, irritated gasp, and tossed the clock to the floor.

“Logan!” I snapped.

He didn’t reply.