Page 113 of Perfectly Grumpy

Uncle Ray insisted years ago that renting equipment was “for amateurs” and proceeded to outfit the entire family (minus children) after finding a paintball warehouse going out of business.

The only person who packs their own equipment is Bart, who shows up with a custom paintball gun. Clearly, he stayed at the reunion hoping he could somehow win Abby back, though it’s obvious to everyone but him that the ship has sailed.

He saunters up to me, his gun slung over his shoulder. “When I didn’t see you at breakfast, I thought you’d chickened out. Gone back to your little minor league hockey team.”

I give him a smug smile. “Lauren and I were just enjoying breakfast at our cabin. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Bart snorts. “Like that cabin is romantic.”

I step closer. “At least I’m taking care of her. Something she hasn’t had in a very long time.”

Bart scoffs, but his shoulders stiffen enough for me to know it landed. “We’ll see how well you fare today, Foster,” he growls, before stalking away.

Within minutes, the family has gathered around the picnic table, everyone checking their weapons and equipment.

Aunt Karen steps in front of the group. “Let’s go through the rules before we start. You are eliminated once you’re hit. No headshots. And no shooting within ten feet. That’s a penalty. And you absolutelycannottake off your face mask, no matter how uncomfortable. Safety first! Okay, are you ready?”

The whistle pierces the air, and Lauren and I sprint into the woods together. She ducks behind a tree and I join her, peeking to make sure no one has followed us.

“I’ve reconsidered the plan. I think we should split up,” she says, catching her breath. “If we’re together, he can take us both out at once. But apart, at least one of us has a chance.”

“That’s actually pretty smart,” I say.

“You doubted me?” she says.

“Let’s just say I enjoy being proven wrong when it means I get to watch you win.”

She flashes me a smile before she disappears into the trees, leaving me to drop flat behind a fallen tree trunk. From this vantage point, I have all day to wait for my next unsuspecting victim. I take down Uncle Ray first, then Uncle Bobby, and eventually, Lauren’s dad.

After that, the woods go eerily still. I rise, keeping low, weaving my way back toward the main path near the cabin, my eyes scanning for movement. A single shot echoes close by, along with a scream, and then a stick snaps close by. Someone’s coming toward me.

I lift my gun, my finger on the trigger, when Lauren stumbles out from behind the brush.

“It’s you,” I exhale, lowering my gun. “I almost…” I am startled as I take her in. Her face is pinched in pain, every step an effort as she limps toward me. “Hey,” I say, racing toward her. “Are you hurt?”

She nods, and I crouch low, fingers trailing carefully over her arm, then to her side, before I reach her legs, searching for the source of pain.

I lift her pant leg and that’s when I see it: a welt the size of a half dollar, angry and red, already swelling on her lower calf. The paintball left a perfect dark circle surrounded by inflamed skin that’s already starting to bruise. I roll the cuff higher, and white-hot anger shoots through me.

I’ve taken plenty of paintball hits during team bonding with the Crushers, but a hit this close on exposed skin? That’s going to hurt for weeks, and whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.

“You don’t take a shot that close unless you’re trying to cause damage,” I say.

“It’s fine, Tate,” she says, but the pain on her face says otherwise.

“No, it’s not,” I snap. “It’s the first rule of the sport. You don’t shoot someone’s exposed body, especially not at close range. Who did this to you?”

She hesitates.

“Was it Bart?” I ask.

She doesn’t respond.

“He’s done,” I say, my hands clenching into fists, my voice low and dangerous. “Nobody hurts you and walks away from it.”

“He found me hiding in the woods,” she says. “I stumbled over a stick, and my gun went flying. When I went down, my pant leg rode up, and he took the shot while I was still on the ground.”

I stare at the angry mark on her leg. “That man is going to pay,” I growl, standing to my full height.

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