Hazardous Holiday. Liz Johnson

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      The loud footfalls that followed the soft ones reminded her she didn’t have to face it alone.

      Somehow that was enough to get her out of bed and stumbling toward the kitchen. Pulling on her ratty robe, she nearly tripped over an uneven arm of the belt before catching herself on the wall with a loud thud.

      “Everything okay up there?” Zach’s voice was gravelly. Cody’s sweet laughter quickly followed.

      Grumbling, she straightened the belt and stomped down the stairs. When she reached the kitchen and the boys caught sight of her, Zach stopped his spoon halfway to his mouth, suspending an enormous bite of cereal and milk over his bowl. His eyebrows were at full mast, his mouth hanging open uselessly as he leaned against the counter beside Cody’s stool.

      “What?”

      Cody giggled.

      She swung her gaze on him, frown in place and eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?”

      “It’s—”

      Zach dropped his soup spoon back into his bowl with a splash. “Nothing. Nothing is funny.”

      She caught her reflection in the stainless steel toaster on the counter. Her hair was a wild mass on top of her head, her curls stretching in every direction and dancing with every movement. She clamped her hands over her hair and tried to tame it.

      It didn’t help.

      Neither did Zach’s smirk as he picked his spoon back up and took a bite of his sugary breakfast.

      She shot a glance in Cody’s direction. He had a piece of whole wheat toast slathered in jelly sitting on a plate and a bowl in front of him. “Did you give him cereal? He can’t have that much processed sugar.”

      “Relax, Momma.”

      She frowned at Cody’s too-cool tone. Where’d he pick that up?

      Cody tipped the bowl toward her. “Zach peeled me an orange.”

      “Oh.” As comebacks went, it wasn’t her best. But she didn’t have anything else to say. Except maybe that she’d overreacted. Maybe she was a little too on edge lately. Maybe sharing her house with a man again wasn’t helping.

      “I get it,” Zach assured her. “He has to eat lots of fruits and veggies and lean proteins. And not a lot of all the other stuff.”

      She nodded slowly but couldn’t help eyeing the brightly colored loops in his bowl.

      He didn’t seem to need a translator for her expression. “I know I have to eat the good stuff, too—and I usually do. But after a year without it, sometimes a man just needs his cereal.”

      “Yeah, Mom. Sometimes a man needs cereal.”

      That made her laugh out loud, and even Zach’s eyes crinkled at the corners. Holding out his hand, he gave Cody a high five, which made Cody beam. It was clear her son had missed having a man around the house. It squeezed at her chest in a strange way, an odd reminder of grief and pride. She’d managed to keep going, to keep her family moving forward.

      “So, I was thinking,” Zach continued. “Christmas is only about three weeks away. And the living room is kind of bare. Maybe we should go pick out a tree this afternoon.”

      “We never get a live Christmas tree.” Cody’s tone pleaded with her.

      “We used to. When you were younger. Before.”

      Zach met her gaze, and again he seemed to understand without more explanation. Aaron had handled the trees, until he hadn’t. That first year after his death, she’d barely managed to get a three-foot tree up on an end table. But she’d done it for Cody. The next year she’d gotten a prelit tree from a box.

      It wasn’t the same.

      She knew it. But it was the best she could do on her own.

      But Zach had a way of reminding her that she wasn’t on her own anymore.

      “Anyway, we can’t go today. You have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”

      Cody immediately looked at Zach. “Want to go with us?”

      “No, buddy.” Kristi jumped in to save Zach from having to decline. He was just back from a year away. Certainly there were people he wanted to see and things he wanted to do. They couldn’t assume his time was theirs. “I’m sure Zach has other plans today.”

      He slurped the last of his milk from his bowl and smacked his lips. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend the day with you.”

      Cody held up his hand for another high five before shoving the rest of his toast in his mouth. “There’s a car auction on TV.” He hurried toward the living room, but his steps were sluggish, like he hadn’t gotten ten hours of sleep the night before, even though he’d been asleep every time she checked on him.

      Kristi watched him through the gap between the counter and cupboards, her heart breaking a little more, the way it did every day at the reminder of how frail her son was. She was so focused on him that she didn’t realize Zach had moved to her side until he reached in front of her to pop his bowl into the dishwasher. His nearness made her jump.

      “You don’t have to go with us, you know.”

      His forehead wrinkled into three even lines as his lips pursed to the side. His eyes grew intense, but he kept his voice low. “We don’t know when Cole might try again. But I promise I’m going to be with you when he does.”

      His words filled her with mixed emotions. He spoke like there was no doubt that Cole would try again, and the certainty raced through her veins like icicles in a Montana winter. But there was warm comfort in his promise to stay by her side.

      Three hours later Zach was ready to go with them. He’d zipped up Cody’s jacket, helped the boy into the backseat and climbed behind the wheel of the car before she’d even tamed her hair.

      “Are you coming, Momma?” Cody yelled from his booster seat.

      She slipped into the passenger side, buckling up before attempting to wrangle her hair into a ponytail.

      Cody made a clucking sound. “I like it when your hair is down.”

      “Me, too.”

      She jumped at Zach’s gravelly whisper.

      The simple fact that he’d thought about the way she wore her hair made her fingers forget how to work. She lost her grip on the hair band, and it shot across the car, smacking into his shoulder. In a flash, he caught it and handed it back to her.

      “I guess you don’t agree.”

      “I didn’t—that was an accident.”

      He shot a sly look in her direction. “Sure it was.”

      Those knowing looks he kept sending her way were making her stomach squirm. In an entirely not unpleasant way.

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