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“Then, yes. It might be harder for a novice to get on target because of the long trigger pull. But for a beginner, a revolver is a lot easier to figure out.”
“Right.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to buy her one and I’ll find you a deal.”
Apparently Liam’s buying me a gun.
“I better check on your mother.” Mr. Hollister leaves instructions for Liam on how to man the fire before going inside.
“Have a good talk with my mom?” Liam asks, flipping open the chamber of the gun and spinning it to show me that it’s empty.
“Sure. I always love talking to her.”
What am I supposed to do, tell him she strongly hinted I’m good daughter-in-law material so I can feel like an idiot when he gives me the “you’re like a sister to me” speech again? No thanks.
Mr. Hollister has a small wooden table and bench set up and Liam guides me over to it, casually picking up a few bullets and sliding them into the chamber. My gaze strays to the table top where a much larger revolver, two boxes of bullets, ear plugs, and safety glasses rest.
I tap my hand on the table, next to the larger gun, drawing Liam’s attention to it. “Is this the big brother to that gun?” I ask, nodding at the one in his hands.
He huffs out a laugh. “No. That’s Dad’s Colt Anaconda.”
“You know that means nothing to me, right?”
The corners of his mouth twitch with amusement. “It’s a whole different league of gun.”
“Ooo. Fancy.”
Another short laugh from him and I enjoy the sound, even if it is directed at me. “It’s a little much for your first time.”
“You have no idea how much I can handle.”
His eyes widen at the comment, making me laugh.
“Smartass,” he grumbles.
“Wait a minute. I’m not shooting anything tonight. I don’t have a pistol permit.”
“You’re with a sheriff,” he says with a smooth smile and a wink. “I’ll let it slide this time.” Turning back to the gun, he adds, “I want to see if you’re comfortable with this. I can get you a permit application and sign you up for one of the safety classes this week.”
“Wait, why? I don’t know if I want to do all that.”
He narrows his eyes at me as if this isn’t up for discussion. “Okay, but think about it. I’d like you to at least know the basics.”
Something about his answer leaves me feeling as if he used a lot of restraint in his words, but I appreciate the effort he’s making not to seem like he’s bossing me around. I know it doesn’t come easy for Liam. Especially after…well, everything.
“You really think I can do this?” I ask, nodding at the gun in his hand.
“I think you can do anything you set your mind to, Bree,” he answers in a solemn voice.
“Okay. Hand it over, Hollister.”
“Yeah? All right.” His half-smile spreads into a full-on grin.
I hold out my hand and he shakes his head. “Not so fast.” He hands me a pair of safety glasses and earmuffs. I slip the glasses on, and he settles the muffs around my neck before continuing.
“There’s no safety on this gun. The double-action trigger is the safety.”
“Is that good?”
“Yes. You have to purposely pull the trigger back for it to go off.
“Okay.”
“It just means there’s less chance of an accidental fire.”
“Uh, good, I guess.”
Sensing my unease, Liam moves a little closer to show me the cylinder. “This takes six bullets, most small revolvers take five.”
He hands me three bullets and shows me how to slide them into the empty chambers.
“Ready?” he asks.
Feeling a little more confident, I answer, “I think so.”
He takes his time placing the gun in my palm and showing me how to hold it properly with both hands.
“Line up your sights. Really focus on putting that front sight on the target.”
It’s harder than I thought. He moves behind me, helping to keep my arms steady. The heat of him at my back momentarily distracts me.
Focus. Prove to him you can do this.
“When you’re ready, slowly squeeze the trigger. Nice and smooth. All the way until it fires. It will be louder than you expect.”
I practice holding it and aiming the way he showed me a few times.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He moves closer and slips my earmuffs into place, then stands behind me and to the left.
“When you’re ready,” he shouts.
I take a few deep breaths, letting each one out slowly. On the third exhale, I pull the trigger back, back, back and when I’m almost out of breath it goes off.
Because Liam warned me, the noise and movement of the gun isn’t a surprise. He taps my shoulder and motions for me to lower the earmuffs.
“That was good. Lean into the shot more. Keep your grip tight to minimize muzzle flip.”
“Okay. Can I go again?”
He nods and slips the muffs back over my ears.
I face forward and allow my mind to clear of everything but the gun in my hand and the target in front of me. This time, I’m not even worrying about where Liam is or what he thinks of me.
I shoot again and again, until the gun’s empty.
I set the gun down on the table and take the earmuffs off.
“You went through all the bullets,” Liam says.
“I’m sorry… Was that okay?”
He steps in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “It’s fine. How did it feel?”
“Good.”
“Let’s go see your target.”
My shooting isn’t impressive, but I did hit the paper all six times.
Liam’s gaze roams over the holes I punched through the outer circles. “Not bad, Bree. I think if we work on your breathing and trigger control, you’ll be damn good.”
“It’s harder than I thought.”
“But you felt comfortable?”
My shoulders lift. “It might take me a while to get used to.”
“You weren’t afraid though, right?”
“No.” The only thing I’m afraid of is the sick, helpless fear that paralyzed me when Chad attacked. I never want to be that vulnerable again.
The proud nod he gives encourages me. “Eventually when you’re more comfortable, we’ll work on shooting in different situations and conditions.”
I glance out at the target. “I guess in real life, the bad guy isn’t going to stand still and let you shoot at him, is he?”
His gaze travels over the back yard before he answers. “No.”
For a minute he’s so quiet and serious. I’m not sure what changed, but I step a little closer, wrapping my arms around his waist, tucking my hands into his back pockets, and leaning against him. “Thank you. For everything today.”
His arms band around me, hugging me tight for a few seconds before he speaks. “You don’t have to thank me. I love spending time with you again.”
My nose stings and my foolish heart pitter-pats. “I like spending time with you, too,” I say as I step back and look up at him.
This time, he puts some distance between us and reaches out to give my cheek a soft, brotherly pinch. “Ready for éclairs?”
“Yes.”
I follow him back to the table where I laid out all our supplies. Together we work out a system for prepping everything. When we’re finished, he hands me a foil-covered stick and I spray it down with cooking spray before wrapping dough around the end and thrusting it over the fire.
“Remember to turn it,” Liam instructs. “Otherwise you’ll have a burned side and a doughy side.”
“I thought you were done giving lessons for the night?” I give him a gentle push away. “Worry about your own stick.”
He huffs out a laugh and squats down next to me. I’m not sure what to say, but that’s what was always nice a
bout being with Liam. The easy silence. So far it’s the best thing about coming home.
Stuffed full of campfire éclairs, I sit and watch the fire with Bree. I’m not sure where my parents went off to. I suspect my mother was up to something earlier, but haven’t had a chance to question her.
