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“Shotguns are your best option for home protection,” he said mindlessly, as if it were routine to explain this to someone. “I’d say a Glock 19 is best for personal protection if you’re interested in carrying it on your person.”
“Yeah. I’d like to carry it on me.” I wasn’t sure if I’d said the right thing, but he just nodded again like they were words he’d heard every day.
I’d never bought a gun before. I’d never shot one, either. Hell, I’d never even held one. But what else was I supposed to do? Winnie might be in danger—no, she was in danger. Her boyfriend was abusing her. That I was positive about.
“We have a few Glock’s in stock. Do you want to try one of those?”
“Try?” Sweat gathered on my palms. I wasn’t prepared to try anything today.
“See how it feels in your hands, I mean.” He gave me a knowing look, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You ever shot one before?”
“That obvious I’m a newbie?” I huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. He lifted a shoulder, shrugging off the words.
“It’s just a thing. Don’t be afraid of it.”
I wasn’t afraid of it. I was afraid of what I could do with it, knowing I had it on me, ready to fire at any moment. I was afraid that I wouldn’t hesitate when it came to protecting Winnie. And I was afraid that I wouldn’t feel an ounce of remorse for it.
Instead of telling him any of that, I just gave him a tight smile, using my chin to point at the counter. “I’d like to try it, please.”
Crouching, he unlocked the glass door and slid it open. I watched every one of his movements. The black metal clanked against the glass as he set it between us. I rubbed my hands down the front of my pants before picking it up, the coldness biting into my skin.
“It’s heavier than I expected,” I muttered.
“You’ll get used to the weight.” He sounded so sure of himself, like he’d said those words to every person who’d walked into this store looking for a gun. “Aim at that wall over there.” My head snapped to him, and a low chuckle left him. “It’s not loaded. Just see how it feels.”
My heart pounded as I lifted the gun, holding it like I’d seen in movies, and aimed it at a painting on the far wall. A man stood in front of a tractor, his cowboy hat tipped down over his head, hiding his face. I pictured him being Winnie’s boyfriend. I pictured the way he’d gripped the back of her neck and hauled her inside that trailer.
I slid my finger onto the trigger, and a calmness washed over me. Is this how I would feel when her boyfriend was staring down the barrel of my gun? Would I feel this powerful—would I feel like a god?
“You like it?” The man’s voice pulled me out of my fantasy, and I blinked, aiming the gun at the floor as I turned back toward him.
“It feels right,” I said, resting it on the counter. “I’ll need some bullets as well.” His back was already to me as he grabbed a few boxes of ammo and set them beside the gun.
“Holster?”
I twisted my lips to the side. Did I need a holster? Would I really carry it that often?
But what if I ran into her boyfriend? I’d need to be armed and ready. So I nodded and watched as he grabbed a holster. We stared at each other for another moment, each of us waiting for the other to say something. What was I missing? What else did I need?
“Ready?” He tilted his head toward the cash register, and I knew he was asking if I was ready to check out. But in my head, he was asking if I was ready to kill the fucker that was hurting my little fawn.
A slow smile stretched my mouth as I tilted my head down. “Ready.”
* * *
I sighed tiredly as I rubbed my forehead, the letters on the paper in front of me blurring together. I’d lost track of how many reports I’d read and graded today, and I was about two seconds from taking my new gun and blowing my fucking head off with it. There was no way I could read another droning paper without some alcohol to take the edge off.
It had been a long day, and even though I’d seen Winnie in class this afternoon, I hadn’t been able to talk to her. She was in such a rush to get to her next class, and I had students swarming me with questions about the latest assignment that I couldn't walk with her. Not that I would’ve, anyway. That would’ve drawn too much attention.
After all my classes, I came to my office, and a stupid part of me had expected her to show up. To knock on the door and kneel under my desk while I finished grading. But that hadn’t happened.
I glanced at my phone, hoping to see a message from her. Nothing.
I went through the motions of closing my office down for the day—gathering papers, putting supplies away, shutting off my laptop…the mundane tasks of every day. Slinging the strap of my bag over my shoulder, I locked my office door and headed down the silent hallway. Distantly, I could hear students talking and laughing, the occasional excited scream, and smile to myself.
I’d missed this. I was meant to be here, walking the halls of a university with ripe minds surrounding me. This is where I was always meant to be.
The evening air greeted me, still thick from the heat of the day. The parking lot was mostly empty as I made my way to my car, my gaze on my hands as I flipped through my keys to find my car key.
