She looks up. Smiles. That warm, genuine thing that makes my heart skip. “Hey yourself. Ben said you wanted to talk?”
“Yeah.” I step inside and close the door. Not all the way. Just enough to muffle sound. “I’ve been thinking.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “Dangerous.”
I almost smile. “Ben’s doing better. The anxiety is down. She’s sleeping through the night. The Brave Rules are working.”
“They are.” She sets down her marker. “Where’s this going?”
I hesitate.
Swallow.
“Well... remember that hunting trip I mentioned after the park drill? I think it’s time. Ben’s ready.” I keep my voice steady even though I already know what’s coming. “Nothing crazy. Just a short trip. Father-daughter bonding. Like we talked about.”
Her face goes carefully neutral. That mask she wears when she’s trying not to show what she’s actually thinking. “Hunting.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“With Ben.”
I nod. “With Ben.”
She stands. Crosses her arms. “Marco. She’s five.”
“I was five when my old man took me.” I lean against the doorframe. Keep my voice level. “It’s a rite of passage. Teaches respect. Patience. How to move through the world without being scared of it.”
“Or it traumatizes her and sets back every bit of progress we’ve made.”
There it is. The pushback.
“It won’t traumatize her,” I counter. “We’ll bring the shotgun. I’ll show her how to handle it safely. Teach her respect for it. That’s the whole point.”
Her eyes go wide. “You’re going to let her shoot?”
“Not yet. Maybe next year.” I keep my voice level. “But I’ll demonstrate. Show her the process. How to clear the chamber. Check the safety. Treat it like the tool it is.”
“Marco.” Her voice has an edge now. Real alarm. “I say again: she’sfive.”
“AndIwas five when my dad showed me.” I don’t back down. “She won’t touch it. I promise. But she’ll watch. That’s how you build respect instead of fear.”
“Safety protocol.” She’s using that voice. The one that sounds calm but actually means she thinks I’m insane. “You’re talking about firing a weapon in the wilderness with an anxious five-year-old watching.”
“I’m talking about giving my daughter a chance to do something meaningful instead of keeping her locked in a townhouse because the world might be scary.”
Her jaw tightens. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” I push off the doorframe. Move closer. “You’re the one who taught her that brave and scared can live in the same body. This is me letting her practice that.”
Still, she doesn’t back down. Just holds my gaze with those warm brown eyes that see way too much. “And what if something goes wrong?”
“Nothing will go wrong.” My voice gets that edge that means I’m done debating. “We’ll have the full kit. Satphone. Bear spray. Laminated rules. Jag will know the route. Filepe will have the GPS coordinates. It’ll be safer than half the shit people do in this city every day.”
“And the shotgun?” she presses.
I shrug. “It’ll be cased during transport. Unloaded. Ammo stored separately. Only when we’re out there and it’s safe will I bring it out.”
“Marco.” She says my name like a warning. Like I’m missing something obvious.
