Bullets & Bonfires

“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.

  “Are you cold?” I ask Bree, because she’s standing closer to the fire than I’d like.

  She half-turns, the flickering fire creating a soft halo of light around her. “My front’s warm and toasty, but my back’s cold.”

  “Come here.” I sit up and reach for her and she takes my hand, allowing me to pull her down into the Adirondack chair with me.

  I wrap my arm around her and she snuggles closer. “Better?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Did you have fun tonight?”

  “I did. Thank you for being so patient with me.” She slips her hand out of my hold and gestures toward the targets.

  “Anytime.” I rest my chin on the top of her head and watch the flames licking and darting around. Relishing the feel of Bree so close to me. “Want another éclair?” I ask after a few minutes.

  She blinks up at me as if she’d been falling asleep. “Oh no.” She rubs her hand over her stomach. “I’m ready to explode as it is.”

  “Want to go for a walk?

  “No, this is nice,” she answers in a dreamy voice.

  After that we’re quiet again. Nothing but the crackling fire and a whole lot of crickets fill the air. She rests her head on my chest. My nose ends up in her hair, inhaling her scent.

  “Are you sniffing me?” she asks.

  “Yeah, you smell like bonfires and vanilla, two of my favorite things.”

  She chuckles and presses her hand against my chest. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  My heart rate kicks up and I wonder if she can feel it under her hand.

  “If Vince were here, this would be just like old times,” she says.

  Moment killed.

  Vince hadn’t crossed my mind once tonight. Instead, I seem to be treating this night as some weird bringing-a-girl-home-to-meet-the-parents date night, when that’s the last thing this is.

  She already fits in with my family perfectly.

  Yet, she’s nowhere near ready for another relationship. Having her in my lap like this is just playing with fire.

  I sit up, shifting her body. “We should probably get going.”

  “Wait, Liam, I didn’t—”

  “It’s late. I have to work in the morning,” I explain. It’s not nice playing on her guilt, but this cozy cuddling we’re doing needs to end. Even if I don’t want it to.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Amanda and Gabe are curled up on the couch watching a movie together when Liam and I come inside. They’ve always been an affectionate couple and it’s comforting that their fondness for one another hasn’t waned one bit.

  “Mom, we’re going to head out,” Liam announces.

  “Already?” She seems reluctant to let me leave as she ushers me into the kitchen to load me down with leftovers.

  “I’ll visit,” I promise.

  “You better,” she says as she follows us out the door.

  At the truck, she motions me closer. “Come here.” She wraps me up in the type of motherly hug I longed for as a child from my own mother, but never received. “It was so good to see you. Don’t hesitate to visit. You’re welcome here anytime.”

  I blink rapidly and force a smile. “Thank you.”

  On the way home, Liam’s the first to speak. “My mother didn’t—”

  “Don’t. You know I love your mom.” Amanda’s words from earlier echo in my head. Does Liam really look at me differently? Hard to believe when he keeps so much distance between us. “So, how many girlfriends have you brought home?”

  He stares straight ahead and takes a few seconds to answer my question. “Why are you asking?”

  “I’m jealous.” I try to force some lightheartedness into my tone, but end up sounding more like a bunny-boiler. “I don’t like you sharing my surrogate mom and dad with anyone else.” That has to be the biggest lie wrapped around a truth I’ve ever told.

  “They’ve always had a special spot in their hearts reserved for you, Bree.”

  “That doesn’t answer my original question.” Why am I pushing so hard when I probably don’t even want to know the answer?

  “Why are you really asking?”

  “You’re a bit of a mystery to me these days.”

  “There’s no mystery. I’m the same guy you’ve always known.”

  “You’re deflecting. Come on. Tell me. How many girls made the cut?”

  “What did my mother tell you?”

  I can’t believe he’s avoiding such a simple question. “Nothing.”

  He’s quiet while he navigates the tight turns of the mountain road. Once we’re on the main highway he finally answers, “Three.”

  “In the last four years, you’ve brought three girls home?”

  “In my life,” he clarifies. “I’ve brought three girls home to meet my parents.”

  I can’t decide if that’s too many or too few.

  I glance over and although he’s casually leaning one arm against the window, while he expertly steers the truck with his other hand, he seems tight with tension. “Does that bother you?” he asks.

  In my heart, a little green fairy shouts “Yes!”

  “Would it matter if it did?” I ask instead.

  “It would matter to me.”

  Is he trying to tell me something more? That he regrets other things in the past or am I just hearing what I want to hear? “Well, I can guess Meredith was the first one.”

  He flinches at the name of his first serious girlfriend. They’d dated during my junior and senior years of high school. Meredith had pitched a fit when Liam took me to prom—as just friends. “So, who was the last one?”

  I don’t miss the way his hand holding the steering wheel tightens. “Why?”

  “Well, you know all about my last boyfriend. Tell me about your ex.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Was she pretty? What does she do? How did you meet? Did you love her? Why’d you break up? The normal stuff.”

  A pang of remorse tickles me as I watch him struggle to come up with answers. Maybe it didn’t end well. Maybe she broke his heart and he’s still in love with her.

  I shouldn’t be this nosy, but I’m sick and tired of being the only one who has her life on display for everyone to dissect and comment on. It’s only fair for Liam to share a little piece of himself with me.

  “We met through work. She’s a nurse.”

  “Do you still see her?”

  “From time to time, yes. But only when I run into her through our jobs. Not socially.”

  “Why didn’t it work out?”

  “Why are you doing this, Bree?”

  “I thought we were friends, Liam. Friends talk about this kind of stuff. Don’t they?”

  He pushes out a frustrated breath. “She liked the idea of dating me, but the reality of being in a relationship with someone in law enforcement bothered her.”

  “Why?”

  “With her job, she’s seen officers shot, killed. It was too much for her. She got possessive and clingy. Wanted me to change careers. Plus, she’s a few years older.”

  “I didn’t know you were into older women,” I tease.

  He throws a brief glare at me but otherwise ignores the comment. “She wanted to settle down and start a family, and I wasn’t ready for that.”

  “Are you ready for that now?”

  “Are you?” he shoots back.

  Liam’s never used such a harsh tone with me. Not even when we were kids and I did something to annoy him. Confused, I snap back. “We’re not talking about me.”

  He jerks the steering wheel to the right and slams the truck into park. His fingers work his seatbelt loose and he turns to face me. “No, we’re not. We haven’t
really talked about you since you came home.”

  My time with Chad forced me to perfect the ability to hide my emotions. Emotions made him angry.

  Liam’s ripping all those walls down in one night, forcing me to feel things I’d rather not. “Are you kidding? All we’ve talked about since I came home is how pathetic I am!”

  “Bullshit. You haven’t told me a damn thing.” The anger in his expression sets me on edge. I’m not afraid of Liam. It’s the fear of the unknown we’re racing toward that terrifies me.

  “What more do you need to know?” I shout.

  “How’d you get involved with such a lowlife? Why don’t we start there?” Before I even open my mouth, he fires off another question I don’t want to answer. “How many times did he lay his hands on you? I know damn well this wasn’t the first time.” He barely pauses for a breath. “Why didn’t you call me when he hurt you? You knew Vince was a fucking ocean away. Why’d you call him instead of me?”

  “I didn’t want to! The hospital made me call him.”

  He shakes his head as if he’s more sad than angry now. “Jesus Christ, Bree. Anytime you need me, all you have to do is call. I’d drop everything to be there for you.”

  “How was I supposed to know that?” I snap back. “You and I hadn’t talked in months.”

  “Because that’s what you wanted!” he shouts, frustration rolling off him in waves. “Not me. You shut me, your brother, everyone who cares about you, out. Why? Because Chad told you to?”

  I don’t want to think about Chad. The things he forced me to do. To give up. All I want to do is block out the horrible memories of the last four years, but everywhere I turn someone wants a recount of every gory detail. I want to pretend Chad doesn’t even exist. But I can’t. “I left. I was finally leaving.”

  “Why? What was the final straw?”

  Oh God.

  The detachment I built as a kid, and still carry to shield myself, starts to crumble. He’s trying to see inside to the darkest, most tainted parts of me. He wants to make sense of my actions and he can’t. No one can. Not even me.

  He turns and slams his palm against the steering wheel. “The first time he laid a finger on you, you should’ve told me. I would have taken care of it, Bree.”

  The tears I’ve been desperately trying to hold back explode down my cheeks. Frustrated, angry, humiliating tears. “I didn’t want you to know what a mess I turned into!” My words bounce around inside the truck while Liam stares at me with wide eyes. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this has been? How stupid I feel? I hate him, but I hate myself even more for staying with him.”