Page 49 of It's Always Sonny

Sonny

“Welcome to axe throwing,” Ash says. She stands with a handsome guy named Rusty who looks like that dude Rachel Bilson’s always flirting with in that show where she moves from Manhattan to the South to go be a doctor. I only know the show because PJ could be Rachel Bilson’s hotter younger sister, so I may have watched a few episodes when I needed a PJ fix.

Okay, fine, I’m lying.

I binged every episode of Hart of Dixie the summer after my rookie year because I missed PJ so much. Zoe Hart and Wade Kinsella had enough sparks to power the state of New York.

The point is, the guy Ash is with looks like Wade Kinsella, but without the slightest hint of bad boy vibes.

Which means he’s probably doomed, because the Ash I knew had an unfortunate thing for irredeemable losers. I hope that’s changed.

“The rules of axe throwing can get pretty complicated, so let me tell you how this works.” Ash swings a small hatchet and rests the handle on her shoulder. “You pick it up and throw it at that target.”

Everyone laughs.

“Any best practices we should know about?” Sienna asks. “One hand? Two?”

Rusty clears his throat. “If you want to try two hands, you can line your thumbs up like you’re golfing. You won’t want to grip it too hard or flick your wrist. Just bring your joined hands back and release right in front of your head, not too high or too low.” Ash rests her elbow on his shoulder and fakes a yawn. He peeks down at her with a slight smile. “If you want to try it one handed, hold your arm out straight, elbow in. It doesn’t require a lot of force. You’ll wanna release once your wrist is in line with your shoulder.”

“All right, party people!” Ash yells. “Let’s get lumberjacked!”

With dozens of hatchets and four targets, we’re able to cycle through everyone quickly. It’s exactly as straightforward as Ash said and as nuanced as Rusty said, at the same time. Sienna has some serious beginner’s luck and hits the second ring from bullseye on the first throw, but her next two throws suck. I hit a bullseye on my third throw, and I keep hitting the rings each time afterward.

I win.

I’m gloating over my family when PJ comes to check on us. She tucks her phone and stylus in her jeans pocket as she approaches. She talks to Ash and Rusty first, smirks about something, and then comes over. But instead of talking to me, she talks to Sienna, Lauren, and Amber. They talk animatedly for a minute, and then I hear Lauren say, “You should try!”

PJ holds up her hands. “I’m just the help.”

“Whatever,” Amber says. “Get in there. You don’t want to be on your deathbed at 104 regretting that you never threw an axe.”

“I’m not sure that’s on the list of deathbed regrets,” PJ says.

“Not enjoying life is on the list,” Sienna says. “Get in here. Show us what you got!”

“Let her be, guys,” I say, even though I’d love nothing better than for her to participate. At nineteen and twenty, I loved the challenge of trying to get her to crack. I loved her when it didn’t work just as much as when it did, but the rush I felt when she would play along was better than scoring any touchdown.

But if I’m going to be different this time—if I’m going to stop being so pushy and let her make her own choices—the last thing I need is for my family to do it by proxy.

I keep my eye on her for a moment too long. And then a moment longer. When her eye finds mine, I mouth, “You don’t have to.”

“Come on, PJ,” Sienna says. “Throw the freaking axe.”

I frown at my sister, and when PJ sees it, she looks confused. I rub my forehead, not knowing what in the world I should do. Should I pull my family aside and ask them to leave her alone? Should I—

Thunk.

I drop my hand.

PJ buffs her nails on her puffy coat while my family whoops and hollers.

She’s thrown a perfect bullseye.

Elation and frustration clash inside of me. I love when she participates, but she shouldn’t have to just because my family pushed her!

My sisters-in-law and two of my cousins swirl around PJ, folding her into their clique so quickly, I don’t get to say anything to her on the way to the next event. I’m excited—over the moon—until I see her grin and laugh like this is no big deal.

No.

---