Page 74 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

The notion terrified him, but milk with orange juice and cereal in the mix covered the floor. He pieced together what happened. Calleigh preferred cereal, while Mira was partial to toast. Something had gotten knocked over, something jammed.

That either girl could’ve been electrocuted brought him to his knees. Without thought, he rubbed his hands up and down Remy’s arms, trying to quiet her sobs that ate at him. When he’d heard her scream—a bloodcurdling scream—his mind had gone to the worst. One of the girls, or both, were dead. His mind catapulted to the dark place. Like the day he’d come home and found Sissy…

He shook his head.

Don’t go there.

When he’d run out and found his three girls standing there, all fine, he prepared to give Remy a tongue-lashing.

Seeing the knife in the toaster brought him to his senses. She might’ve overreacted—but he understood the impulse.

Get it together. Over a pancake breakfast, he’d reiterate a few things, including no little ones in the kitchen without an adult, and no knives near toasters. He was sure he’d told them that before, but obviously the lesson hadn’t stuck.

The girls were coming down the hall, and Remy still trembled in his arms. Not wanting the girls to get upset again, he whispered in her ear. “Go, now, and take a shower. Put this out of your mind. We’ll deal with it after breakfast. Go, before they see you like this. They won’t understand, and they’ll just get upset again.”

He practically propelled her toward their bedroom and then he greeted the girls. “I think we need to start with some paper towels.”

The two girls surveyed the damage and their lips stuck out in matching pouts.

“I was pouring milk, and Mira bumped the chair.”

“Did not!”

“Did too,” Calleigh asserted. “Then she spilled the juice!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

He smothered a grin. This was their first real sibling fight, and it warmed his heart. Siblings were meant to fight on occasion and then make up. Squabbling little girls he could deal with. He hadn’t played big brother to three younger sisters without learning a few mediation skills.

“Why don’t we clean in silence and then you can apologize to each other?” He looked back and forth between the two girls.

“Sorry, Mira.”

“Sorry, Calleigh.”

They each took a paper towel and cleaned the floor. He’d have to mop afterward and steam clean the carpet where little footprints had tramped across the living room floor, but that was easy to fix.

Satisfied he’d handled the worst of the mess, he pulled out the ingredients for pancakes. This was a no-brainer for him, and he pointed to the chairs. “And why am I asking you ladies to sit at the table?”

“’Cause it’s hot.” Mira was being helpful.

“And what happens when you touch something hot?”

“It hurts.” Calleigh’s contribution.

“And we don’t want to hurt ourselves, right?”

Both girls shook their heads.

“Now.” He paused dramatically. “Who would like some orange juice?”

Two hands shot in the air.

“I’ll take some also.”

Remy’s voice soft wrapped around his heart.

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