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After pocketing my phone, I turn in the passenger seat and nod to Akara. “We’re off-duty?” I need confirmation before I take off my radio. Meeting our girlfriend’s parents at their home means I’m here as Sulli’s boyfriend. Not her bodyguard.
Same goes for Akara.
“Yeah. Leave your gun in the glove compartment.”
I unbuckle to sit forward and unholster my gun. “Shame. I was hoping Ryke and I would draw pistols and duel.”
Akara lets out a laugh. “You want to go Wild Wild West out there, Banks, let me know. I’ll buy you a cowboy hat with extra rhinestones.”
“Just make it blue.”
“Pink,” Akara jokes.
Whatever, I’d rock it. “Yippee-ki-yay.”
Sulli leans forward in the back, head between our front seats. “The only duel that’s happening is between me and my dad. So I’m taking that cowboy hat from Banks.”
“I’d give it to you.”
She’s too apprehensive to smile, but she puts a hand on my shoulder and a hand on Akara’s shoulder. “No more fucking bloodshed. Okay?”
“That’s the plan,” Akara assures.
I bounce my head, but it’s better to be ready for hell than to be gut-punched when Ryke does take another swing. So I’m not expecting her dad to have warm, fuzzy feelings towards me.
Gun in hand, I remove the round from the chamber, and Sulli watches more attentively. Her dad has taken her to a shooting range before, and the gun he packed for Sulli’s out west adventure, she returned before their blow-up. Only her dad owns firearms, so she’s now reliant on me and Akara if we encounter another wild animal during hikes, camping, or climbs.
Can’t say it’s a regular occurrence to cross paths with any. Not like in Yellowstone Country.
I notice how she watches me safely place the handgun in the glove compartment. “You want your own gun?” I ask Sulli. “That way you don’t have to ask your dad for his.”
She contemplates for a second. “Yeah…I’d actually really like that.”
Akara looks back and forth from the street to her, maybe noticing the crinkle in her brows. “Are you scared to shoot a gun after Montana?” Where she shot and killed a cougar.
“Sometimes I think I might be. What if my hand fucking shakes when I touch the trigger next time, or what if I struggle to even hold the gun?” She slides back against her seat, further away from us.
Akara catches her gaze in the rearview. “You don’t ever have to touch a gun again, Sul. Banks and I are armed.”
“Oh hey, I know you two will always protect me.” Sulli slips her arms in her jean jacket as we close-in on her childhood home. “But I don’t want to be scared of anything anymore. Not if I encounter another cougar, not holding a guy, nothing.”
I glance at Akara. “Sounds like we need to take her out shooting.”
She sits forward again. “Like…a date?” Her smile reddens her cheeks.
Akara and I exchange the briefest look that she can’t decipher.
Her smile vanishes. “Fuck, unless that’s not something you two want to do together. I can just go with one of you?” She sinks backwards and cringes at herself. “Fuck.”
Akara is smiling. “String bean—”
“Oh my God, don’t string bean me right now.”
“You didn’t get rejected,” Akara says with another laugh. “Sullivan.”
“Well, it fucking feels like I did.”
Akara asks me, “How does someone reject their girlfriend?”
“Expertly. Bastardly,” I say, and then I tell Sulli, “I’d very much like to take you on a date with Akara to go shooting.”
She eases, but still looks confused. “Then what was that look you gave each other?”
Akara explains, “We were planning on taking you out separately on more formal dates and it’s something we’ve talked about with each other already. But we can do both.”
I add, “That look was us saying, let’s do both.”
Sulli’s smile slowly returns. “You both talked about taking me out?” Before we respond, she adds, “I like that.”
Jealousy isn’t a big beast like before, and if anything, guilt comes stronger. Guilt when I spend more time with Sulli than him. But Akara and I are doing our best to communicate. Stay on the same page. Soothe any bruised egos.
“We like talking about you, string bean,” Akara teases.
She kicks the back of his seat for the nickname, but she’s smiling. Until we drive up to the cul-de-sac, the cottage in view under a full moon tonight.
Quaint. That’s how security describes the Meadows Cottage. But that wouldn’t be the first word I’d pick.
Welcoming is better.
Situated in the private cul-de-sac, the cottage looks like Hobbiton or a picture book coming to life. Foliage landscapes the house, and large mismatched stones pave the walkway to the half-glass door.
Akara parks the Jeep under the portico, and I detach my radio from my waistband, then unclip the mic cord. He keeps his radio on, in case SFO needs him.
Sulli stares out at the cottage. “Maybe I should’ve called.”
