“Do you mean grilling on a grill?” Jeremy looked back and forth between her and her dad. “Like a barbecue grill?”

Dad broke off a handful of meat and began rolling it between his palms. “Of course.”

Jeremy gaped. “It’s twenty degrees outside.”

Once the meat had formed to his satisfaction, Dad began flattening it into a patty. “Technically, it’s only seventeen.”

Bea washed her hands in the sink. “Anything I can do to help?”

“You can cut up cheese and pickles and such if you want.”

Though he looked skeptical, Jeremy helped her pull everything from the fridge that could possibly go on a hamburger. While Dad took the plate of newly formed patties outside to place on the grill, she and Jeremy sliced tomatoes, cheese, pickles, and onions.

When tomato juice dripped down her arm, Jeremy had a rag in his hand to wipe it up before she asked. As he opened the bag with the block of cheese in it, she set a cutting board underneath before he could even look for it.

Bea thought of her mom. She and Dad had made a good team, too.

“Get down, Steve.” Bea shooed the cat off a chair as she began to set the table. “Dad won’t like you sitting up there.”

Jeremy opened a bag of hamburger buns. “Was it fun?”

“What?”

“Taking care of Hunter.”

“I don’t know.” Bea filled three glasses with water. “I was too nervous to have fun.”

“I bet it’s scarier with other people’s kids.” Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. “With your own, it just . . .”

She raised her eyebrows and waited for him to finish his sentence.

He shrugged and grinned. “Just comes natural.”

She tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. That couldn’t possibly be true. “But what if—”

The back door opened, and a blast of cold air stalked through the kitchen like a wolf on the prowl, stealing Bea’s words away. Jeremy gave her a questioning look, but she shook her head. Maybe she wasn’t ready to say it out loud, anyway.

Dad proudly set the burgers on the table. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Smells good.” Bea took her seat. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Yeah, thank you.” Jeremy sat down beside her. “I’m starving.”

Dad prayed over their meal, and then they all eagerly prepared hamburger buns to their liking. For Bea, that meant mayo, lettuce, tomato, two very thin slices of pickle, and a tiny bit of mustard. No ketchup, no onions, and definitely no barbecue sauce. Barbecue sauce on a burger was a sacrilege she only overlooked for the sake of family peace.

Jeremy loaded everything available onto his bun and took a huge bite.

“Did you get the fridge fixed, Dad?” Bea asked.

His face darkened. “Not yet.”

“Uh, guys.” Jeremy set his burger on his plate. “I think there’s something wrong with this beef.”

Dad smirked. “It’s not beef.”