Free Snowflake Wishes by Maggie McGinnis Page B

Piper’s voice was small as it came out, and she cleared her throat. “Do you think we got there in time?”
    â€œI hope so.” Noah’s voice was stiff as he stared out the front window, and Piper wasn’t sure if he was still processing the rescue … or if he was upset about something else.
    Thirty seconds later, she got her answer.
    â€œWhy didn’t you ever tell me about your parents, Piper?” His voice was soft, pained.
    She sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, how could I, really, without making you feel like I was passing judgment on the kind of lifestyle you were choosing?”
    â€œWell, it certainly would have made a lot of things clearer, right from the start. I just thought you were cautious … a little timid. I had no idea— this was why.”
    She looked out her window. “This … is only part of it. I spent my entire childhood getting dragged from mountain to river to ski slope to cave. My parents spent hours trying to convince me to love what they did, but I hated it. Always hated it. By the time I was fifteen, they’d stopped trying. I went along sometimes, but I was always the one with feet firmly planted on the ground.”
    â€œWere you with them … when it happened?”
    â€œYes.” She looked down at her fingers, but they quickly grew blurry. “Two feet on the ground, 911 at the ready. As usual. Mom had asked Dad to replace the ropes. She was worried they had too many miles on them, but he convinced her they were fine.”
    His jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.
    Piper shrugged slowly. “It was bound to happen, right? I mean, the way they lived isn’t normal. They flew in the face of the rules all the time—thought they were smarter than nature, more experienced than the professionals who tried to give them advice. You play roulette enough times, and eventually you’re going to lose. They … lost.”
    Her breath caught as another realization—one that had been crystal clear seven years ago—crept back in.
    And so will you, Noah. So will you.
    â€œIs this why you never used to be able to sleep?”
    She nodded, closing her eyes. “I couldn’t get the movie of that day out of my head. It took years.”
    â€œI wish you’d told me.”
    â€œWould it have changed anything, Noah? Would you have done anything differently? Really?”
    He turned toward her. “Of course I would have. I never knew why you were scared. I could have helped you, if I’d known.”
    â€œHelped me how?”
    â€œI don’t know.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t know. But I never had the chance to figure it out. And then you assumed I’d suffer the same fate, so…”
    â€œWell, the similarities were a little hard to ignore.”
    â€œPiper, when a rope is done, it’s done. And if you even think it might be done, you assume it’s done. You don’t mess around with that. I don’t know your parents, and I don’t know how careful they were normally, but if your mom thought that rope needed replacing, then they never ever should have used it.”
    He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. “I’m not being critical. Maybe it was a freak accident. Maybe the rope was fine and something weird happened. I get that. But Pipes, what I do isn’t the same as what they were doing. This business isn’t about risking my life. It’s not just about chasing adrenaline. It’s about challenging myself and pushing my own boundaries—and helping other people do the same. It’s fun, but it’s the kind of fun that comes with a risk, and you mitigate that risk with equipment and experience and common sense.”
    â€œWell … they were zero for three, I guess.”
    He nodded. “And unfortunately, it’s three for three or you’re done.”
    â€œI