Page 6 of Brave Horizons (Barrington Billionaires #19)

ALEX

He set up a row of empty cans on a ridge, carefully spacing them out to create a makeshift target range.

Topeka stood a few paces back, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and determination.

She had mentioned her familiarity with guns, but Alex wanted to see her skills firsthand before he felt comfortable with her carrying a weapon.

He walked back to her, a small pistol in hand. “Alright, Topeka, let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, handing her the gun. “First things first, always check that the safety is on when you’re not ready to shoot. And always keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire.”

Topeka nodded, her face serious. She took the pistol, checked the safety, and assumed a solid stance. Alex moved closer, positioning himself behind her and gently adjusting her grip. His hands were firm but gentle as he guided her, making sure she was comfortable and in control .

“Keep your arms steady and your feet shoulder-width apart,” he instructed, his voice calm and steady. “I know your dad took you shooting but there is a lot to it. I was a certified instructor for years.”

“I’m probably a little rusty anyway. My father wasn’t a warm and fuzzy kind of guy. His teaching style was abrupt.”

“That was never my style. We’ve got nothing but time here. Take a deep breath, aim, and then slowly squeeze the trigger.”

Topeka followed his instructions, her focus intense. She took a deep breath, aimed carefully, and squeezed the trigger. The gun fired with a sharp crack, and one of the cans on the ridge toppled over.

“Nice shot,” Alex said, clearly impressed. “You’ve got a good aim.”

She beamed with pride and a small feeling of reclaiming something that had been taken from her. Security.

Alex adjusted her stance slightly, moving closer to guide her aim for the next shot.

“Just remember to always be aware of your surroundings and make sure you’re shooting in a safe direction. Things aren’t suddenly in slow motion like the movies. When you need your weapon, most of the time everything is happening at lightning speed.”

As she lined up her next shot, Topeka’s expression grew more contemplative.

“At first, I thought my dad was taking me to the range to bond with me. You know, father-daughter stuff. But it turned out he had a lot of enemies. Dangerous ones. I think he wanted me to be able to protect myself because he knew he was putting me in danger.”

Alex listened quietly, sensing the weight of her words. “I can’t imagine knowingly putting the people I care about in danger. That’s screwed up.”

She fired again, hitting another can. “I’m more embarrassed how long it took me to realize who he really was. Late at night I sit up and wonder if I’m fooling myself. Maybe I knew the whole time. Maybe I just pretended not to know.”

Alex adjusted her grip again, his touch reassuring. “What does it matter?”

“What?” she turned slightly to look at him. “Of course it matters.”

“Why? It wouldn’t change anything now. You are not your father and you were never equipped to be able to stop him.

Even if somewhere, deep down you believed he was a bad guy, you couldn’t change any of it.

You’d just be one more of his victims if you’d confronted him too soon. What good would that have done?”

“I simply want this all to be over. I want to feel safe again.” She turned back to the target and drew in a deep breath.

“You’re safe right now,” he said firmly.

Topeka nodded, appreciating his words. She took another deep breath, aimed, and fired, knocking over another can. Alex smiled, clearly impressed with her accuracy .

“Great job,” he said. “I feel confident with you carrying a weapon around camp. Remember, it’s not just about shooting. It’s about being responsible and staying aware.”

She lowered the weapon, put on the safety, and holstered it at her hip. It felt funny having it there. Heavy. The belt holster was clearly made for someone bigger. But she also felt relief to have a bit of her security in her own hands again.

“I’m trying to figure out what the rest of the day looks like. Camp’s cleaned up. Target practice complete. Now what?” She glanced around as if some magical form of entertainment was about to appear. “Do you whittle sticks?”

“Not a bad option. I do have some small knives. Or we can hike. Explore. Swim. Nap. Think. The world is our oyster.”

“The world sounds like a very small oyster. I’m not saying those things can’t be great, but I’m not particularly built for that type of leisure time.

My brain doesn’t shut off. That all sounds very quiet.

I need a job. A task of some kind. Want me to get firewood?

I can start prepping something for lunch. ”

“We just ate breakfast, are you hungry?”

“No.”

“You’re bored?” he asked with a tinge of judgement. She wanted to deflect but couldn’t.

“It’s not boredom it’s . . .”

“Anxiety?” he asked, cocking up a knowing brow as he holstered his weapon as well. “It freaks you out not to have something to do. Why? ”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I like to be busy.”

“No one likes to be busy. Well, unless being bored freaks them out.”

“It does.” She looked unsettled by her own admission and tried to walk it back. “It doesn’t freak me out. I like to be doing something that matters. Something productive.”

“Oh, one of those,” Alex said, pulling a small knife from the sheath on his belt and bending down to grab a small stick.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She leaned away from him and propped a hand onto her hip.

“We’re analyzing each other right. So you’re someone who’s self-worth is closely tied to their productivity and accomplishments.

Staying busy can be a way to avoid confronting negative emotions or difficult life issues.

If you slow down, you’ll have to face uncomfortable feelings.

” He ran his knife across the stick, whistling while he whittled.

“Ouch. Shots fired across the bow.” She brought her hand to her chest and stepped back. “Is this how it felt when I said you have a hero complex?”

“No, because you were wrong about that. And I am right about this. I hit the nail on the head for you.”

“You’re so confident about that?” She yanked the stick from his hand and snapped it in half. It was so animated he nearly laughed. But keeping his face level was the only way to make a case for what he expected would happen.

“Prove me wrong,” he replied coolly with a shrug. “Genuinely relax today. Feel your big scary feelings. Be alone with your thoughts. Throw away the to-do list. Get absolutely nothing accomplished. Think you can handle that?”

“It sounds like you’ll be stuck cooking lunch and cleaning up camp. I’ll be lounging around while you do all the work.”

“See, you say that like you’re excited, but I can see you gulping. Freaking out. I’m going to be lugging stuff around. Chopping up some veggies. You’re going to be relaxing on a hammock. Well, after I hang it. Does that make your palms sweat?”

She gritted her teeth together and glared at him. “Why are you enjoying this so much?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted coyly. “The particular shade of red your face is turning is one I’m very fond of.”

“And you’re still salty I pegged you right as a macho hero guy who loves to swoop in and save the day?”

He turned away and leaned down for another stick. “Maybe.”

“I’m going to relax circles around you today. Just lie around like the champion of laziness. You think it’s a challenge for me but you’re wrong.”

“You’re making a list in your head right now about how you can be the best at relaxing aren’t you? I can see the wheels turning. How can you make this into something productive?”

“What else do you propose? Do you want me to sit down and tell you all the things that pop into my head like some nature therapy session? ”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

“It might.” She tucked her hands in the pockets of the old sweatpants I’d given her as if to force herself to be immobile. “I mean it won’t hurt me, but I can’t promise you’d be unscathed.”