Free Falling Like Snowflakes by Denise Hunter Page B

there’d even be a Thanksgiving dinner. Or a caretaker for Aunt Trudy.
    â€œShe got into all our Christmas stuff in the attic, and when I came home she’d decorated the whole house. It was everywhere. Garlands, ornaments, everything.”
    â€œOh no,” Paige deadpanned. “How could she?”
    Beau clenched his jaw. “I could use a little support here.”
    â€œCome on, Beau. You’re not mad at Kate. You’re mad at Riley. And you’re really not even mad at Riley. You’re just afraid.”
    He pulled the phone away and stared at it before returning it to his ear. “You’re seriously telling me how I feel right now?”
    â€œYou always get mad when you’re afraid.”
    Great. He loved being analyzed. “What exactly am I afraid of, Paige?”
    A long thread of silence hovered between them.
    â€œYou’re afraid of losing him. And you know what? So am I. But he has his own life to live, his own decisions to make. All we can do is support him and pray God keeps him safe.”
    â€œThe way God kept Dad safe? The way He kept Mom safe?” Beau sighed hard. “I didn’t mean that.”
    He ran his hand over his face. It felt like everything was falling apart no matter how hard he’d tried to hold it all together.
    â€œGod can handle your questions, Beau. And He can handle Riley. And Kate. And Thanksgiving.”
    He threaded his hands into his hair and squeezed until he felt a sting. “I was a real jerk tonight.”
    â€œWell . . .,” she said. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Chapter 9
    E den squinted at the directions she’d printed off, then put the bowl of butter into the microwave to melt. The turkey was all trussed up and waiting in the roasting pan. Paige was coming to help in a couple hours, bringing Micah with her. With any luck the meal would be edible, if not delicious.
    The microwave dinged, and she began basting the turkey, stifling a yawn. She’d had a rough night’s sleep. She wasn’t even sure she was still welcome in the house after Beau’s scolding. But she needed this job, so here she was.
    The floor creaked behind her, and she looked over her shoulder. Beau appeared in jeans and a white T-shirt, his hair damp from his shower. Good to know he had at least one white T-shirt left.
    â€œMorning.” His voice was still rough from sleep.
    â€œThere’s coffee over there.” She put the finishing touches on the turkey, opened the oven, and reached for the roasting pan.
    â€œLet me get that.” Beau nudged her out of the way. The spicy scent of his cologne wafted over her.
    He lowered the pan into the hot oven and shut the door.
    â€œThanks.” Eden set the timer so she wouldn’t forget to baste the turkey. She washed her hands, then studied her to-do list, conscious of Beau nearby, pouring his coffee.
    â€œListen, Kate, about last night . . .”
    She waved him away. “I’m sorry if I—”
    â€œDon’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
    She looked up from her list. Sunlight flooded through the kitchen window, highlighting his face. She noticed the lighter flecks in his brown eyes and the subtle copper highlights in his black hair.
    â€œI overreacted. I’d had words with Riley on my way in. And to be honest, we haven’t done a real Christmas in a long time.”
    â€œI didn’t know.”
    â€œI know you didn’t. I was a jerk. I’m sorry.”
    She gave him a grateful smile. “No worries.”
    He lifted his mug, calling attention to his muscled bicep and the way his snug shirt stretched over his broad shoulders. She looked back at her list.
    â€œTwelve years ago our mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer right after Thanksgiving. It was pretty advanced by the time they found it.” He leaned against the counter, crossing his bare feet. “She went downhill so fast. From vibrant and strong