“Right. You’re a good little liberal who hates guns,” Nathan said, rolling his eyes, and her carefully constructed calm cracked in half. “Yes, that’s why. It couldn’t be because my parents were murdered with a gun. That I grew up with a dad who thought it was funny to point them at us as a joke,” Emma said, cheeks hot. “Get rid of them. Sell them, have them melted down, I don’t care.”
