Grace
"Again," Kent said.
I shot again. Closer. Still not right.
"You're anticipating the recoil," he said. "You're flinching before the shot lands. Stop thinking about what comes after the trigger pull and just pull it."
"That's easy for you to say."
"It's easy for anyone once they've done it enough times." He stepped in closer and his chest pressed lightly against my back. I kept my eyes on the tree. His hand came over my right wrist, not gripping, just resting, steadying the angle. "Your wrist is rotating on the pull. Keep it flat."
I adjusted my grip, squinting down the metal sight, and fired again. This one went high, clipping a small branch off an oak tree behind the intended target. The branch fell with a soft thud against the grass.
The warmth of his hand through my sleeve w
