“We never had much dessert. Decadence was frowned upon. But every year for the summer solstice, we would have fruit salad with mayo and cream cheese.”
He pauses with a slight grimace. “That sounds more like a punishment than a real dessert.”
“Well, we can’t all have endless snowballs at our disposal. Though I might like to try a cheesecake one day. It sounds lovely. Have you had cinnamon rolls?”
It’s an oddly placed question, as if they’re a rare food in the wild.
“Sure. From a box or from scratch, there are no bad cinnamon rolls.”
“I haven’t. There was this one scene in a movie where the whole family sat around a table eating gooey hot cinnamon rolls for breakfast. It looked so…domestic. Happy. I always wondered if they really are that good. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them since. It’s not like we couldn’t have it, but a dessert like that would be indulgent.”
“Heads up.” He tosses her a crinkly packaged Honey Bun. “Not anywhere close to the same, but that might hold you over until you get the real thing one day.”
She rips into the snack with a flourish, giving Emma half. “Oh my, that’s…that’s very sweet.”
Her big eyes have grown twice their size, and he chuckles. “There’s enough artificial flavors in that to take out a horse. Like I said, it ain’t the best replica. The real thing really is that good. It’s criminal you’ve never had one. We’ll have to fix that.”
She dismisses the comment as flippant. There is no chance they’ll be baking cinnamon rolls any time soon.
They claim pocket knives, jackets, and several other supplies before Wyatt settles on a pistol small enough to fit Emma’s hands. Sets her up in the back room after showing her how to load it and points her in the direction of the bad guy on a paper target.
Addison’s having some sort of out-of-body experience beside him if the look on her face is anything to go by. She told him she was on board for this. Nearly begged him to get her kid ready for the outside world, but it’s clear she’s struggling to see it play out.
“I learned how to shoot when I was a bit younger than you,” he says absently. “My uncle took me out in the woods and said I could either shoot my own foot off or shoot something to eat. If I didn’t bring home dinner, I could go without.”
Emma turns to face him, bringing the gun along with her.
“Stop!” he growls, one hand on her arm so she doesn’t shoot him square in the stomach. “Look at what you’re doing. If you point that at someone, you’d best be trying to kill ‘em.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Her lower lip is already wobbling, and he feels like a jerk, but he can’t help either of them if the kid shoots him by accident.
“Don’t be sorry. Learn from it. Line up your shot and squeeze the trigger. Squeeze, don’t pull.”
When she gathers the courage to shoot, the recoil knocks her backward hard enough that he has to throw an arm out to keep her from stumbling.
The target only flutters while the bullet sticks in the wall behind it.
Emma is a soft soul. She needs encouragement and praise, or she’ll assume the worst. He knows what that’s like because that was him at her age. Blowing smoke won’t help her, though. Her only choice is to toughen up, so he doesn’t lie and say it’s the best first shot he’s ever seen.
He wants to, but shoves that down and reminds himself that she’s still got it better than he ever did. His first time out, his uncle didn’t only pin dinner on his success, he made him sleep outside until he brought home a kill.
“Again,” he says, plopping down a box of ammo. “Until you’re out of bullets.”
It would be a waste of resources if they didn’t have plenty here to loot. She needs all the practice she can get. It takes half the box before she hits the paper. Once it happens, she lands two headshots in a row.
Two out of forty bullets, but it’s a start.
“Now we’re talking!” he grins, patting her on the back with a swift thump.
“I wasted all the bullets.” She frowns.
“Remember when I said my first time out, I had to catch something for dinner or starve?”
She nods.
“I didn’t catch a damn thing. Hit nothing but thin air. Almost shot my own foot off. First tries are rough. You keep going. Keep getting better. Now go on and shoot some fake ducks in the simulator. You did well, kid.”
