Finn rubbed a hand over the spot where his scar was in what looked like an absentminded gesture. “I signed up for a gun-safety course as soon as I healed so I could deal with the fear.” Liv rubbed the chill bumps from her arms. “That must’ve been ridiculously hard.” He gave a humorless laugh. “The first few weeks, all I could do was sit there and watch other people do target practice. Listen to the sounds. Let the panic come and force myself not to run. It sucked. But then I met this cop who offered to help me. She pushed me, and I started to get used to handling the gun and began to train.” He focused on a spot somewhere over her shoulder like he was seeing the memory play out on a screen. “She taught me how to switch off the emotion of it. It’s going to sound ridiculous, but it became like football used to be for me. One mission. No emotion attached to it. Get the ball into the end zone. But this time it was hit the target. It was the only thing that helped.” “Jumping...
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