The shot rings out loud, the muzzle flash is blinding, and the recoil is as violent as always. I’m familiar with all of this, so I hardly notice it and only see that I’ve hit. The can that was on the log a moment ago is gone, and I’m relieved that my training seems sufficient. I’ve never had to use the gun, and I’m not exactly eager to do so, but the certainty that I could hit my target in an emergency is incredibly reassuring.
I lower my arms and re-secure the gun before looking at Sophie. Her mouth is slightly open, her eyes wide. She looks at me with a mix of astonishment and admiration that should probably frighten me. There is nothing admirable about firing a gun. It’s neither brave nor desirable, and sometimes the Desert Eagle’s four pounds feel like a hundredweight because I’m all too aware of the responsibility that comes with carrying it.
"You still want to try?" I ask when she removes her hands from her ears, really hoping she’ll say no.
But Sophie nods. Of course she does, goddammit.
When she reaches for the Magnum, I shake my head. "No fucking way. You’re not shooting with that beast," I clarify,putting the gun aside and reaching for the much smaller Glock I’ve placed in the truck bed.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t argue. Maybe she’s realized that my favorite gun is simply too big for her. Instead, she listens carefully as I show her everything.
"Oh!" She laughs briefly as I hand her the Glock. "It’s really much lighter."
Nodding, I take a step back.
"Doesn’t it need to be unlocked?" she asks, giving me a puzzled look.
I shake my head again. "Well listened, but no. The Glock has three automatic safeties and therefore doesn’t need to be manually unlocked like the Magnum."
She nods in understanding before she turns to the log with the cans and lifts her arms to aim at one of them.
Her now brown hair is tied back in a ponytail, from which a few strands have already come loose. Today, she’s opted for a pair of jeans and a loose knitted sweater, but rolled up the sleeves because it’s warmer than expected.
Seeing her like this—especially with a gun in her hands—almost makes me forget what her life must have been like so far.
She raises her hands a little more, pushes the tip of her tongue between her lips like Jules, and frowns as she squeezes one eye shut for better aim.
"Wait." I stop her before she shoots a bird, since she’s aiming wrong and can’t possibly hit a can that way. I then stand behind her and put my hands on hers to direct her. Instantly, the scent of eucalyptus envelops me, and I realize that she must have deliberately chosen a soap with that scent.
When my body touches her back, she takes an audible breath but doesn’t move an inch.
"Stand a little more wide-legged."
I wait until she has followed my instruction before I continue. As I do so, I feel her every movement against my chest all too clearly, which confuses me for a tiny moment, but I quickly regain my composure.
"Prepare for the recoil."
Sophie nods.
"Breathe in and out deeply. And then focus on your target. Forget that I’m standing behind you. Forget that you’re holding a gun for the first time. Just think about putting the bullet through that can." I say the words softly, and then automatically take a deep breath as well.
"Now pull the trigger," I whisper.
She does.
The recoil presses her against me, causing her to let out a soft scream. Then the tension disappears from her arms, and I take the gun from her while she still looks ahead as if spellbound.
"I hit it," she says eventually, almost stunned.
"Yep."
"I actually hit it!"
A smirk settles on my lips as Sophie whirls around to me with bright, sparkling eyes. "Can I do it again?"
"Really?" I lift a brow, and she nods with a wide smile.
"Okay." Shrugging, I check how much ammo is left in the magazine. Then I hand her the Glock and show her again how to stand and support the gun with her left hand. "You have three shots left."
