Walk Through Fire (Chaos #4)(86)

He felt his shoulders string taut as he went alert at her actions and expression.

His shoulders relaxed and he felt warmth steel through him when her eyes hit him and visible relief hit her frame.

She woke up alone, maybe disoriented because of jet lag, and thought he was gone, panicked, pulled on her clothes on the run, and came looking for him.

His voice sounded strange even to him, low and smooth, when he called, “Come here, Millie.”

She didn’t move for a beat, staring at him across the living room.

“Babe,” he prompted.

He lost her expression when she looked to her feet but those feet moved her toward him.

They kept doing it and he turned so she was able to collide with his front, head still down, the top of it hitting his chest, her arms immediately moving to wrap around his waist.

He slid his around her and pulled her closer—a lot closer—so she had to turn her head and press her cheek to his chest as he tucked the rest of her tight.

He didn’t get in to how she’d made her entrance. He was there. He was going to make her waffles. It was all good and he didn’t need to take her there.

Instead, he bent his neck and asked the top of her hair, “How you feelin’?”

“Normal,” she muttered.

“Good,” he replied.

“Are we having waffles?” she asked.

He grinned and answered, “Yeah.”

“Awesome,” she said softly. “I love waffles.”

She might love waffles, something he knew since she’d loved them before, but she liked it more where she was because she didn’t move.

High wanted breakfast but he preferred holding Millie in her kitchen, so he let that go on for a while, giving it to himself, to her, before he decided it was time to take care of both of them.

That was when he stated, “Not easy to make waffles for my girl with her wedged up against me.”

She tipped her head back and he lifted his to catch her eyes.

“Figure it out,” she bossed, and having moved her head, she didn’t move another inch.

He grinned again and replied, “You feel like stayin’ close, not gonna complain, but you’re also gonna hafta help.”

“I can do that,” she told him. “Though, I don’t smell bacon cooking.”

He lifted his brows. “You want bacon with your waffles?”

“Is bacon bacon?” she asked ridiculously.

He felt his grin get bigger. “It’s a lot of things, including being bacon.”

“Then, yes, I want bacon with my waffles.”

She finished what she was saying but she did it talking through the doorbell ringing.

Both of them looked to it but High suspected only he knew who it was.

All the brothers and their women had left him and Millie alone yesterday but Tack had called twice that morning. The sun was shining. The crews would have been at work on the roads, but Tack would never let snow stop him doing anything.

Especially if his woman was up in his shit about making sure High and Millie were okay.

Something that Cherry totally would be.

“Who’s out on these roads?” Millie asked.

“Don’t matter,” High answered. “Two seconds, they’re gonna be gone.” He gave her a squeeze before separating from her and then he looked down at her. “You start the bacon. I’ll deal with the door.”

She nodded.

He moved.

He saw who it was through the filmy curtain on the door and he wanted to turn right back around.

He didn’t.

He sighed, moved to the door, unlocked it, and opened it.

Two kids, one a little girl, one a little boy who was holding his mom’s hand, Millie’s sister and her man.

Before he could open his mouth, both kids started to make a dash inside but stopped dead when they saw who had opened the door.

They also both stood staring up at him, mouths wide open, eyes big.

But High was frozen.

Solid.

And he was this to fight the pain.

It wasn’t the boy. The boy was cute. Dark hair. Brown eyes. Maybe three, four years old.

It was the girl.

She had her aunt’s eyes.

She had her aunt’s hair.

She had her aunt’s mole.

All this something he wasn’t able to see fully when he took her in in the candid, but black-and-white photos Millie had around her pad.

She was the vision of what he thought he’d have when he gave a girl to Millie.

Exactly.

She was adorable, top to toe, and the beauty of her carved out his insides.

“Well, I see you weathered the storm,” Dottie stated, and he tore his gaze from the little girl to look at her mother. “So, let’s get this started,” she went on. “Katy, Freddie, this is your uncle Low. Logan, these are my kids, Katy and Freddie. I think you can figure out which is which.”

Katy.

She’d named her daughter what Millie and him were going to name theirs.

This wasn’t a surprise. It was her grandmother’s name too.

And she’d do that kind of thing, Dot would, giving that to her sister when her sister couldn’t give it to the world.

He forced his eyes back to the kids and rumbled, “Yo.”

Their eyes got even bigger and their mouths opened even wider.