Chapter 21
RANGER
The tsssskr of the ice-cold can of Coke opening is music to my ears, and I guzzle down the first gulps. God, that tastes amazing. And I’ve burned more than enough calories the last two days to deserve this sugary treat.
I wipe down my face with a wet washcloth and plop down into one of the rocking chairs on my porch.
I did it. Don’t ask me where I got the energy and the motivation, but I painted the whole goddamn outside of the house in two days.
The pale yellow looks stunning, although maybe a tad too happy and sunny for me, but whatever.
It was the original color of the house, and I liked it.
It feels good to have accomplished something and even more to have checked such a big task off my to-do list. Granted, my body is cursing me because standing on a ladder apparently utilizes muscles that don’t get much exercise otherwise, and my shoulders didn’t appreciate me holding a brush for that long. But those are minor details.
What counts is that I’m proud of myself, and that’s a feeling I haven’t had in a while.
I find myself smiling—in itself a rare occurrence.
Unless I’m with Julian, who for some reason makes me happy all the time.
Happy enough to sleep well. When he’s with me at least. That nap I took, holding him in my arms, is the deepest I’ve slept in months.
I take out my phone, then hold it up at the right angle so it shows my naked chest, and take a picture.
Ranger
Need any more work done? I’m dressed for the occasion
Julian
Give me a second to wipe off my drool
I love how open and unashamed he is about what he likes.
In this case, me. He’s made no secret of the fact that my body turns him on, and it means something to me, though I don’t want to dig too deep to find out why.
Every man likes to hear he’s attractive, I tell myself because obviously, that’s why Julian’s praise always makes me feel like I’m a better man than I think I am.
Julian
Sadly, no urgent handyman work available, but I’m happy to make something up if that means I get to stare at you working shirtless again…
My fingers already hover over the keyboard, but I change my mind.
Every time we’ve met, it has been either here or at his house.
And while I’d love to invite him to my place and show off my work, I’m worried about the message that will send.
Look at me, painting the house! Sure, it’s a monumental accomplishment for me, but it feels… weak.
It’s not. Rationally, I know that. But a man has his pride.
I don’t want Julian to always see me as needing help, as vulnerable.
He needs to discover that I’ve got skills too other than being able to fix a fence, wearing no shirt.
I want to show him I’ve got skills, even if they’re not obvious ones.
So what can I do with him to share that other side of me?
I snap my fingers. That’s it. The answer comes so quickly it’s clearly the right choice. I can even argue that I’m doing it because I’m worried about him, not because of some stupid male pride.
Ranger
Pardon the abrupt segue, but have you ever shot a gun?
Julian
Erm, yeah. Once, way back, when my father had a flash of bonding need and took me to a shooting range. Can’t say I remember much more than ‘don’t point at what you don’t want to shoot.’
Ranger
Well, that’s a great lesson to remember. Would you like me to teach you?
He reads my message but doesn’t respond right away. Maybe I need to explain why? Not my reason, of course, but clarify that I want him safe.
Ranger
I was just thinking that you live there pretty isolated, so it might be good for you if you learned how to shoot so you can defend yourself if necessary. Not just from people but from animal attacks as well.
Julian
I don’t mean to be insensitive, but are you sure it’s a good idea for you? Won’t it trigger you? I’m afraid you can’t bring Benny. It would be way too loud for him.
How sweet of him to worry about that. It shows not only how much he knows about PTSD but also how much he cares about Benny and me.
Ranger
No, but thank you for checking. My triggers are unexpected sounds and movements. A shooting range is all expected actions. Plus, I’m the one shooting, so I’ll be in control. And I’ll have you with me…
Julian
Oh, okay. Good. In that case, I’d love to.
We set up a time for tomorrow, and I’m pretty damn proud of myself all over again as I put my phone away. “I’ve still got moves,” I tell Benny, whose eyes betray nothing of the utter laughability he must feel about that statement. God bless dogs.
The next day, my muscles are slightly better. That yoga shit really does work, I’m telling you. It can’t cure mental stuff, but it sure as fuck helps my body stay flexible and recover faster.
After a thorough shower in which I do a little manscaping, I opt for a good shave.
Not that I want to presume, but should we progress to pleasurable activities of a more sexual nature, I want to be prepared.
That’s also why I put two condoms and a package of lube in my wallet.
Thank god for Prime so I don’t have to buy them in town.
I check myself in the mirror, and I’m startled by my own face.
It’s…different. Working outside has restored my tan, and my eyes don’t have those awful bags underneath anymore.
And I must’ve gained some weight because my cheeks have filled out a little.
Damn, I look good, and warmth spreads through my chest.
When I arrive at the shooting range, I’ve barely gotten out of my truck when Julian pulls up beside me.
My heart does a happy little jump I ignore.
We’re friends. With great benefits, but that’s it.
I’m not ready for more, and Julian sure wouldn’t want something more with me anyway. He could do so much better.
“Hi,” Julian says, and as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he steps toward me and presses a kiss on my lips.
I freeze, completely stunned. Not that I’m objecting, but I didn’t think he’d want to be open about his…association with me.
“No PDAs, got it.”
I shake my head to get out of this mental fog. “No! I mean, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it. But it’s fine. I promise. No harm done. All fine.”
Julian’s eyes twinkle. “That’s a lot of ‘fine’ for one kiss.”
I sigh, rolling my eyes at myself. “That’s because it was a very fine kiss.”
Julian’s smile widens. “Good save.”
We walk in together, and I sign him in as a guest after he’s shown his driver’s license to the receptionist. I’m a regular here.
I’ve been a member for many years now. As an active military member and now a vet, I’ve never paid membership dues.
I argued about that with the owner, but he insisted on it.
Said it was the least he could do to thank me for my service.
I don’t know why, but that always makes me uncomfortable.
I give Julian a pair of ear protectors, then open my gun locker. I own several guns, some that are usually here and a few that I keep at home.
“This is a 9 mm handgun,” I tell him, taking out my Sig Sauer P365. “It’s a very popular handgun because it’s relatively lightweight, so easy to use as a concealed carry.”
I hand it to him after checking it’s empty.
He holds it, weighing it in his hand. “It’s much lighter than I’d expected.”
“It’ll be heavier when it’s loaded, obviously, but for someone like you, that would be a good choice to use.”
“Are we using this one to practice with?”
“Yes, but I also want to let you feel the difference with a heavier gun.”
I replace the Sig Sauer with my Magnum .45. “This one’s so much heavier,” Julian says.
“It is, and that makes it much harder to shoot for a rookie. It has a vicious kickback that isn’t easy to control at first.”
“Is that the heaviest gun you have?”
“No. At home, I have a 50 caliber Desert Eagle. It’s a great gun, but only for experienced gunmen.”
We make our way onto the range, me carrying the Sig Sauer and the .45.
“Your dad probably gave you the safety instructions, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t talk about them with you.”
Julian nods. He’s focused, and I like that he takes this as seriously as I do.
I love guns, but they’re no joke and not something to play with lightly.
So I run him through ten minutes of safety drills, teaching him to keep his finger off the trigger, never point the gun, and how to safely check if it’s loaded.
We practice taking the magazine out, loading it, and then making sure it’s placed correctly.
After he’s done it a few times, it’s time to have some fun.
“What do I aim for?” Julian asks.
My mouth twitches.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve seen the big black target, but how do I aim?”
“Always aim for the chest because it’s the biggest area. If you miss, chances are you’ll hit something else important.”
“Okay.”
He’s adorably concentrated as he takes aim and fires. His shot is over by quite a bit, and he looks disappointed. “Don’t hold your breath and relax your shoulders,” I advise.
His second shot is closer, though still a miss.
“You need to gently squeeze the trigger rather than pull it. Pulling it will cause your gun to go upward slightly, and you’ll miss your target.”
He nods and takes a stand again, more relaxed this time. His fourth shot hits. It’s far off from the center, but Julian is all but jumping up and down. “That was good, right?”
“Yup, you hit something. Try again.”
After twenty bullets, he’s getting tired. His hands are shaking, and I gently take the gun from him. “That was fun.” Julian smiles from ear to ear. “Show me what you can do.”
“It’s not a competition. That wouldn’t be fair to you. I did this for a living.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Duh, silly. I know that. I just want to see how good you are…if you want to.”
Do I want to? When he asks it like that, his expression eager and honest, hell yes, I do.
I reload the gun, then take a stand and fire in rapid succession.
I don’t need to check the target to know I’ve hit dead center on all of them, but Julian’s open mouth and bulging eyes are balm to my wounded soul. I take off my ear protectors.
“That’s amazing,” he says. “That’s… You didn’t even look, it seemed.”
“It’s muscle memory by now. I’ve done this so many times, with so many different guns, ranging from rifles to semi-automatic guns to old-fashioned revolvers. There’s not a gun in the world I can’t shoot.”
Pride rings in my voice, but Julian doesn’t take offense at it. Instead, he sends me a blinding smile filled with something else I can’t quite put my finger on, but it looks like admiration. “I’m genuinely impressed.”
My chest feels like butterflies have taken up residence there, and while it’s a completely unfamiliar sensation, I like it. “Do you still want to try the Magnum?” I ask.
“At least once. I’m curious about that kickback.”
I run him through the correct posture, warning him not to lock his arm as he fires.
He takes a long time, then pulls the trigger, and I can all but see him gather the courage.
The effect is what I expected: as soon as he’s fired, his hands fly upward, and despite him holding the gun with two hands, he almost drops it.
“Holy gumballs! You warned me, and I still wasn’t ready… ”
“Don’t blame yourself. Like I said, this is not a gun for beginners…”
He’s peppering me with questions as we get back to my locker, where I check all the guns, do a quick clean, then store them.
He’s so curious, unafraid to ask what others might consider stupid questions.
I don’t think they are, don’t get me wrong.
Of course they’re beginner questions, but that’s fine.
We all have to start somewhere, and showing him just a little of what I’m highly skilled at makes me feel good inside. Really, really good.
As we walk back into the parking lot, Julian puts a hand on my arm.
“If there’s a smooth segue to go from shooting a gun to inviting you over for entirely different activities, I couldn’t think of it, and I’m telling you I tried hard.
So we’ll go with the old-fashioned direct approach.
Wanna come home with me? Watching you shoot has made me want to climb you… ”