He had to smile. “Here. Like this.” He positioned her left hand on the front of the gun, supporting the barrel. “Now put your right hand on the pistol grip—”
“I don’t want to shoot anything.”
“Bullets don’t magically appear. Work with me.” He reached around for her right hand.
And then, somehow, her back was against his chest, and he was holding his hands over hers, positioning the rifle against her shoulder.
Her hair smelled like mangoes. Her cheek was right by his face.
Hunter dropped his voice. “What do you think?”
“I think my parents would die if they knew.”
He laughed softly. “What do you think?”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, and when she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “The day after my brother graduated, he went out and bought a gun. My parents don’t know.”
“Does he keep it locked up?”
“I don’t know. He took it with him.” She paused, and her voice almost wavered. “I kept worrying that I’d accidentally find it, or he’d accidentally shoot it, or . . . I don’t know.”
“If you want to learn how to handle them, I could show you.”
She turned her head slightly. “Yeah?”
“Sure. When—”
The basement steps creaked; then heavy footfalls were coming down the stairs. “Hunter?”
Hunter jumped and almost dropped the gun. Thank god it was unloaded, because Clare started to spin with the weapon in her hands.
Hunter got a grip on it before she turned all the way, but it left his arms wrapped around Clare, the gun in their hands, just as his uncle came through the door.
CHAPTER 2
Hunter tried to think of a way out of this. He was coming up short.
“That better be unloaded,” said his uncle. He was still in uniform, and it always made him look taller, more official.
“It is,” said Hunter. He let go of Clare, keeping the barrel pointed downward, trying not to meet his uncle’s eyes.
There was no way his dad wouldn’t find out about this.
“I figured we’d catch you with a girl one day, but this isn’t quite the scenario I imagined.”
Hunter sighed. Humiliation was going to kill him.
“It’s my fault,” said Clare quickly.
“Really?” said Uncle Jay. “You stole the keys and guessed the combination? Was Hunter trying to get the weapon away from you, then?”
He couldn’t be in too much trouble if his uncle was going to stand here and joke about it. “It’s not her fault.”
“Should I give your girlfriend a ride home?”
“Let me guess,” said Hunter. “You mean in your police cruiser?”
“Oh, I can walk,” said Clare. She was already edging toward the door.
Hunter wished he could go with her.
She didn’t look back at him as she dashed for the stairs.
Well, that had been short-lived.
But at the top of the steps, she ducked back to look at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”
Then she was gone, and the gun room was completely silent.
Hunter held out the gun, stock first. “You want to just shoot me and save Dad the time?”
Jay smiled and took the weapon, checking the magazine before putting it back on the wall. “He’s not going to shoot you.”
“That would be too quick?”
Now Jay laughed, but then he quickly sobered and gave Hunter a look. “We’ve talked to you about girls before.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“I’m pretty sure I know exactly what it was like.”
Hunter scowled. “I did a presentation on the second amendment at school. She had some questions about firearms.”
“Is that the new lingo for saying you’re her anatomy tutor?”
Jay’s voice was easy, but Hunter knew that the questions behind it were serious. “Look, I said it wasn’t like that. I haven’t even talked to her before today.”
“Hunter, our abilities are a blessing and a curse . . . it’s very easy to get taken advantage of.”
“She wasn’t taking advantage of me! We were just talking!”
“No. This”—Jay gestured at the space between them—“is talking.”
Hunter flushed and looked away.
His uncle straightened and put his hands on Hunter’s shoulders. “You’re a Fifth. While that means you’re connected to all the elements, it also means you’re connected to the people around you.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. He knew this rhetoric better than a nursery rhyme. “And when people are drawn to me, I’ll be drawn to them, and it’s hard to remember my own purpose—”
“Don’t mock it, Hunter.”
Hunter shook Jay’s hands off. “We were just talking. You’re acting like she was trying to—”
“I don’t care what she was trying to do. I’m trying to tell you that it can be hard to distinguish what you want from what others want. You’re going to want to help everyone, and that’s not always a good thing.”
“How is that not a good thing?”
His uncle leaned back against the table. “What if I wanted to help every criminal I had to arrest? What if your dad went on assignment and empathized with the bad guys?”