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“Who doesn’t like chocolate?”bit into a croissant. “Mmm. Delicious. Thank you.”

Meg asked me about SSI while we ate, and was happy to listen while I talked about how my dad and Jamie started the business after the local police couldn’t save Jamie’s wife, Isabella, from a stalker who killed her before killing himself. She blinked away unshed tears. I could feel the empathy radiating off her. My dad and Jamie wanted to help people, and knew law enforcement couldn’t do anything to prevent attacks, only investigate them afterwards. A harsh reality driven home by Isabella’s death. SSI gave them the opportunity to do things they couldn’t as police officers, like offering protection services and investigating situations before things got out of hand.

“I always wanted to be a cop, like my dad. I was planning to apply to the police academy when I left the Army but when he asked me if I wanted to work in the private sector with them, I didn’t hesitate to accept.”

“You’re lucky.”

“I am.” I took a sip of my coffee. “What about you? Are you close to your family?”

Her energy deflated faster than a popped balloon as she curled in on herself. She put her hands in her lap. I was sure she was trying to hide the fact that she was wringing them. It didn’t work. I could see the muscles working in her arms.

“I don’t really have any family.” She answered softly.

Something about her answer felt off. She sounded sad, but not like she was grieving them. There was some unpleasant history there, I was sure of it. My curiosity peaked, I wanted to know more about her family and her relationship with them.

I wanted to reach out and comfort her, to make everything alright, but all I could do was offer sympathy. “I’m sorry, Meg. If you ever want to talk, I’m a phone call away.”

“Thank you.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. The desire to wrap her in a protective hug was overwhelming, but I didn’t think she’d be receptive. I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like not having my family around, even if we got on each other’s nerves occasionally. I knew how lucky I was to have a big, loving family.

“I should go.” Meg stood up and glanced towards the door before clearing the table.

“Yeah, okay.” I helped her because I didn’t know what else to say or do. I’d clearly hit a sore spot.

“I’m sorry if I brought up sad memories.” I apologized as we walked towards the door.

“Thanks. It’s okay, really it is. I don’t like to think about it, that’s all.” She sounded sad but looked tense. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. I didn’t think they were dead because of her phrasing, but she clearly didn’t have contact with them.

I nodded as I opened the door. Instinctively, I placed a protective hand on her lower back as she walked past me. I expected her to move away, but she didn’t, so I kept it there for a few steps before letting my hand drop to my side.

“Can I give you a hug?” I asked when we got to her SUV. I was asking for my sake as much as hers. I wanted nothing more in that moment that to erase her pain.

“Um,” she hesitated, debating. After a few awkward seconds that felt like minutes, she nodded and said, “Yeah, yes.”

I opened my arms and let her step in; she was in control. I wrapped my arms around her, one hand guiding her head to my chest. My insides did some weird gymnastics when she released a soft sigh and her shoulders relaxed. She felt good in my arms.

She pulled back and tilted her head up, making eye contact with me. Her eyes were glossy from tears threatening to spill over. “Thank you. You’re always so nice to me.”

The way she said it, made is sound like people being nice to her wasn’t normal, and I hated it. It needed to change.

“You’re welcome.” I said, my voice gritty with emotion. I quickly changed the subject to something more comfortable. “So, are we on for next Sunday? I can bring different guns for you to try.”

“I don’t know. I feel like I should pay you for the less-”

“Not a lesson.” I cut her off.

“Please.” Meg stepped back, one eyebrow raised. “You’re teaching me how to shoot. Admit it.”

“Nope, just two friends hanging out at the gun range.”

“Right.” Meg extended the word. “Just two friends hanging out. And one of those friends happens to be teaching the other friend how to shoot.”

“Exactly!” I crossed my arms and flashed a triumphant smile.

“So… what do you call it when you teach someone how to do something?”

I grinned, but refused to answer. She answered for me, “A lesson.”

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