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“Why you giving me these, Dad?” Shay asked after a good ten minutes. His gaze darted to me and back again.
Did he know what it did to me when he called me that?
Dad.
I’d never thought about having kids before, despite knowing that in Da’s eyes, it was our ‘duty.’ Yet, here I was, one sitting in front of me with blacker eyes than a panda, and one currently driving his mom crazy back home because he wouldn’t sleep.
Reaching up, I rubbed my finger along my bottom lip and murmured, “Wanted to give you a choice. They’re gifts but you don’t have to accept them all.”
He tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
I reached for the gun. “They’re paths.”
“Huh?”
Twisting the weapon in my hand, I explained, “This is violence in the flesh. One click and someone’s dead. One click, you’ve committed a crime that can get you put in jail. Everything changes when you press that trigger.
"You and I both know that I want you to be competent at shooting, but being able to do it doesn’t mean you should. It just means that I’d like you to be able to defend yourself.”
“I can’t carry that until I’m eighteen,” he pointed out.
“You never have to carry one, period,” I retorted. “Your guards carry. That’s plenty.”
He sank back in his chair, and I knew I had his attention as I returned it to its earlier position on the desk and picked up the pen.
“The written word is a powerful tool, Shay. History is forged on it; laws are made with it. I figured that was worthy of a special pen.”
I saw understanding glimmer to life in his eyes. “What about the ring?”
“What does an olive branch represent?”
“Peace,” he replied.
Nodding, I told him, “You can go two ways, son. My way.” The gun. “Or you can take a different path. The one you always intended on taking before you learned what I am and what I do.”
He scowled at me. “I still want that. You know I do.”
I didn’t know if he knew it’d be close to impossible for him to get where he wanted when he was my son, when the O’Donnelly name was an albatross around his fucking neck in D.C., but I didn’t say that.
I just said, “Sure, but every time you get into a fight, you’re changing lanes. You’re coming into my world, and you don’t want that. These are your reminder.” I gave him the pen and the ring. “You can use the pen at school and wear the ring. They’re what’ll keep you on the straight and narrow. That’ll take you wherever you want to go.” I studied the gun. “This will only get you deeper into shit and will take you away from your goals. It’s up to you what you want, but you can’t have all three gifts. You have to decide.Now.”
Though he was scowling, I knew my kid’s brain was faster than a whippet around a dog track. When he pocketed the pen and slipped on the ring, relief hit me hard enough to fucking wind me.
“You can keep the gun, Dad.”
I smiled at him though I felt like goddamn crying. “I think that’s the wise choice, son.”
He pulled a face. “You really can’t do anything about Mom?”
“I’ll put in a good word for you. That’s about as much as I can promise.”
“I told you about the skylight,” he commented.
“That’s for her sake. This place is safe.She’llbe safe working here. Cameron will probably have a nursery in this very room. You want them to be on secured grounds, don’t you?”
Shame had his shoulders hunching. “Of course I do.”
“If the skylight’ll make her happy, then that’s for the good, isn’t it?”
