“Give me the gun,” Tobias says, noticing he’s still gripping it harshly, his finger resting on the trigger. Kade’s fingers twitch around the gun, but his eyes slide to me, and he gives in. Resting the weapon in Tobias’s palm, Kade lowers his head, not pushing away as his father pulls him by the helmet again and pats his back harshly. “It’s you and me, son,” Tobias says, low enough that it’s a whisper, but I’m close enough to hear. “You’re not doing this by yourself anymore. I’m here. I’m not letting you do this alone. You and me, you hear me?”
