Walk Through Fire (Page 31)

Cleo and Zadie.

Deb had picked his oldest girl’s name, High had picked his baby’s.

Neither of them were anywhere near the ten names he and Millie had picked out.

Five for boys. Five for girls. That way they were sure to be covered whatever happened.

Her two top picks for girls were her two grandmothers’ names.

Katherine and Ruth.

Katy and Ruthy.

He wondered if her girls were with her now or with some ex.

He clenched his teeth at that idea but that didn’t stop the thoughts, which included wondering, if she’d instead had boys, if she’d picked the top names they’d decided. Flynn and Chance.

He wouldn’t put it past her, even though giving another man’s kids his boys’ names would be beyond the pale, even for her.

But she’d been rabid about picking the right names. Three fucking years they went over it. It was like a game, one they both enjoyed, going from the bizarre to the sublime in choices, trying to make each other laugh, but also being serious, settling in on some, rearranging favorites, until they were sure.

But they never quit talking about it, running a name by the other just to see if it’d make the cut.

Until a couple months before she sent him packing.

Then she’d quit doing it and any discussion they had about it when he did was stiff and forced, like she wanted him to think she was still into it when she absolutely wasn’t.

He hadn’t really noticed at the time.

Like Zadie, he was living in a dreamworld.

Then Millie booted him out.

And now here he was, forty-four years old and he’d fucked up huge along the way. He’d had a loveless marriage that lasted for thirteen years. He’d had so many close calls of so many different varieties that could have bought him a different life, or an early death it wasn’t fucking funny.

But out of his life he still had his brothers and he had his two girls.

And he’d had three years living a dream.

A dream that was a lie.

But at least it felt like a dream before he found out it was a lie and he’d take that.

In High’s life since he’d lost Millie, he’d take it.

And be glad for it.

Twenty-three years earlier, Chaos Compound common room…

“She’s it for you, ain’t she, High?”

At Black’s words, Logan tore his eyes off Millie, who was across the room with Chew, giggling as Chew’s tarantula crawled all over her.

Chew’s tarantula and the fact he had seven of those fuckers and had always had one—by his word even since he was a little kid—being why the brother was called “Chew.”

“So light!” Millie cried. “And furry. She tickles!”

Chew grinned at her in a way Logan didn’t like but he didn’t do anything about it because he knew, even though Chew clearly had a thing for his girl, she was Logan’s girl and Chew was his brother. Not only would Millie not act on it, Chew wouldn’t either.

Millie looked to him. “Logan! We need a tarantula!”

He did not want a fucking tarantula.

But if she wanted one, he’d get it for her.

He did not say this.

He just grinned.

She turned back to the spider crawling up the arm she had lifted in front of her face.

Logan turned to Black, who was standing with him, as was Tack.

“Yep,” he answered.

“Moved in fast,” Tack muttered, eyeing him, friendly but there was concern.

Logan liked Tack but the brother freaked him because he was like a genius or something. He saw shit others did not see. And he thought not a step ahead, or two, or five, but fifty.

There was trouble brewing because of that.

A man like Tack was not a soldier.

A man like Tack was a leader.

All the men knew it.

Including their current president, Crank, who didn’t like it.

“Yep,” Logan repeated, answering Tack’s question, because he was right.

Millie and him were living together and had been for a couple of weeks. She was in school and had a part-time job. He’d been initiated into the Club officially and had a brother’s cut of Club profits.

So it was all good, by his way of thinking.

That said, her parents had been ticked they’d moved in together. They’d agreed to cover her tuition, pay for books, but because she’d moved in with him, done it quick and done it without a ring on her finger, they were giving nothing else.

This meant Logan was covering her even though she was working her ass off, both at school and at the shit job she had at a store in the mall that she took so she wouldn’t have to lean on him too much.

He didn’t give a fuck.

He went to bed beside her, he woke up beside her, she was his. She could quit and sit around watching television and eating M&M’s all day for all he cared. As long as she smiled at him like she smiled at him, like no other man breathed on the planet, he’d take care of her.

“Good choice,” Black noted, and Logan gave him his attention to see Black had eyes on Millie. “Face of it, she ain’t no old lady.” His gaze slid to Logan. “Deep down, where that shit needs to be, she’s all about it.”

“Yep,” Logan said again because this was true.

She was all about family. Hers. His. The one they were going to make one day.

So, yes. Definitely.

She was all about it.

Old lady through and through.

But only because he was a biker. She’d be what he needed her to be.

That was Millie.

“Happy for you, brother,” Tack said. “Your age, men don’t find the right one.” He clapped Logan on the shoulder. “You did.”