Page 76 of Cold Carnage

He caught it mid-air and slipped his arms into the sleeves. The jacket was a little big, but he'd grow into it.

"Looks good," I said, giving him a thumbs up.

He grinned and zipped it up, striking a mock-heroic pose. "Think this'll keep me warm enough?"

"It better," I replied with a smirk. "It's top of the line."

Dylan's face lit up with pride as he looked at himself in one of the store's mirrors. Seeing him happy brought an unfamiliar warmth to my chest.

We moved through the rest of our shopping list quickly, the kid’s chatter filling any potential silence between us. By the time we reached the checkout line again, our cart was piled high with supplies and clothes.

"Thanks for helping me today."

"Don't mention it," I replied, trying to sound casual but feeling something shift inside me. "One more thing."

He trotted over, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. I led him away from the crowded aisles, finding a quieter spot near the back of the store, away from prying eyes and potentialinterruptions. The last thing I wanted was for Paige to stumble upon this.

He glanced around, confusion flickering across his face. "What are we doing here?"

I lowered my voice, checking to make sure no one was around. "Your uncle's not wrong about standing up for yourself," I said, locking eyes with him. "Sometimes, you gotta show them you won't back down."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

I nodded, leaning in closer. "I'm going to teach you how to throw a punch, but you have to promise me you'll only use it to defend yourself, never to attack."

Dylan's brows knitted together. "You mean like... now?"

"Yeah," I said, straightening up and giving him some space.

He nodded eagerly. "I promise."

I smirked. "Show me what you got."

He hesitated but then clenched his small fists and squared his shoulders. With a determined look, he threw a punch into the air, but it was more of a flail than a strike.

I shook my head slightly. "Not bad for a start," I said, stepping beside him. "But here, let me show you."

I demonstrated the proper stance, showing him how to balance his weight and keep his guard up. He mimicked my movements, his focus intense.

"Now," I continued, "when you throw the punch, twist your hips and shoulders into it. Like this." I showed him again, making sure he saw the motion.

He tried again, this time with more control but still missing the mark.

"Better," I encouraged. "But keep your fist tight and aim straight."

He nodded and took another swing. This time it was sharper, more precise.

"That's it," I said with a hint of pride in my voice. "Do it again."

He practiced a few more times, each punch getting better until he finally got the hang of it.

Breathing heavily but grinning ear to ear, he looked up at me. "Like that?"

"Exactly like that," I replied with a nod.

The satisfaction in his eyes made the whole day worth it.

I led Dylan back to his mother, who was waiting near the entrance. She looked relieved to see us, a grateful smile spreading across her face.

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