“What’re y’all doin’?” she asks now, exhausted by the mere thought of a trainer.
“Dad’s showing us his new rifle,” Ben answers, swiveling around to face her, pointing a weapon almost as big as he is in the general direction of her heart. “And it’s ‘doing,’ not ‘doin’.’ ”
Dani gasps and takes a step back, not sure if her reaction is due to the rifle aimed at her chest or her son’s admonishment.
“Whoa there, partner,” Nick says, quickly removing the weapon from his son’s hands. “What have I told you about never pointing a gun at anyone?”
“It’s not loaded,” Ben protests.
“Doesn’t matter.” His father returns the rifle to its proper place, then locks the cabinet door. “Now, listen to your mother. Get moving.”
The boys respond immediately, Tyler offering up a shy smile as he hurries by.
“You didn’t tell me you bought a new gun,” Dani says when her sons are out of earshot.
“Didn’t think you were interested.”
For an instant, she’s tempted to chide her husband on his frequent habit of leaving out nouns, then decides she’s being petty. Turnabout might be fair play, but she’s learned it rarely works in her favor.
“ ’Course I’m interested. How many does that make now?” Her eyes do a silent count of the many guns and rifles on display.
“Eighteen.”
“Well, bless my heart.” Dani has never shared her husband’s passion for guns, and never accompanies him when he goes to the nearby shooting range for target practice.
“Thinking of taking the boys with me to the range one of these weekends,” he says, as if reading her mind.
“What?” The unnerving image of eight-year-old Ben pointing the weapon at her chest flashes before her eyes.
“It’s time they learned how to shoot.” He looks around the room. “Where’d you put my iPad?”
“What?” she says again.
“Left it here last night.”
“I haven’t touched it.”
“You’re sure?”
“ ’Course I’m sure. You probably left it in the bathroom.”
“I didn’t leave it in the goddamn bathroom.”
Dani tenses at the unexpected irritation in his voice and is grateful for the sudden shouts—“Stop it!” “Leave them alone!” “Mom!”—coming from the kitchen. She runs toward the sound and sees her boys wrestling with the fishbowls, the two bettas being tossed carelessly from side to side as water sloshes from the tops of the bowls to the island countertop. “My goodness! What’s goin’ on here?”
“Ben keeps putting the bowls too close together,” Tyler says, his voice quivering. “Neptune’s getting all upset.”
“It’s fun,” Ben says, laughing. “You should see them. They get all puffed up, start banging at the glass.”
“They’ll hurt themselves,” Tyler argues.
“So what? They’re just fish.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Dani returns the bowls to the counter, leaving plenty of space between them. “Time to go. Manuel’s waitin’.”
“Waiting,” her husband corrects, entering the room, iPad in hand. “You heard your mother. Go on. Off with you.”
“Kisses?” Dani asks as they race for the front door. Only Tyler returns, offering up the side of his head to be kissed. Her lips brush against a lock of golden-brown hair. “Have a good day,” she calls as the front door opens and shuts.