I told Grady I loved him. And he hadn’t said it back.

But I wasn’t freaking out yet. He’d asked me to be his girlfriend—he’d opened up to me about his depression.

Though honestly, knowing that he had been suicidal filled my heart with more fear than love.

Grady gave me a wicked smile the next day and told me he had the perfect plan for us. I reluctantly agreed—even though I hated surprises.

Grady and I sat in his truck in silence as we drove on the freeway. This entire setup felt so surreal. I wanted a crystal ball so I could read our future. I wanted assurance that we could make some type of relationship work. I had never navigated an adult relationship and I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. The tension hung thick in the air, and even the view of the beautiful mountains did little to ease my nerves.

We pulled off a dirt road, and I saw a sign: “Shooting & Safety.”

“You’re taking me to a gun range?”

“Yup. Since you’re an expert and all at disarming weapons.”

I shuddered. “You’re kidding me. I hate guns. I told you my mom shot herself. Not to mention you confessed to me that you tried to shoot yourself. Nope, not going to happen.”

He placed his hand on my thigh and looked at me. “You don’t have to shoot, and if you want to, we’ll leave. But you’re the one always talking about therapy. One of the methods I was taught was to desensitize yourself from the experience. This is a safe place. I want you to take back the power.”

“And this from the guy who claims that therapy doesn’t work.”

“I was blown up by a grenade. I can’t really do that again to desensitize myself. But I’m working on other ways to deal with it. Talking to you helps. So does fucking you.”

“Funny.” I exhaled, happy he could admit that keeping his feelings bottled up was futile.

As we pulled up to the shooting range, my fingers tingled and it wasn’t from the cold. I’d been raised shooting with my dad, but after my mom killed herself with my his gun, I’d never had a desire to be anywhere near a weapon, though I had made an exception when I stole Grady’s bullet.

“Wait here.” Grady walked around the truck and opened my door. Swoon. He hoisted me out of the truck.

Once inside the building, he introduced himself to the range owner.

The older gentleman shook his hand. “Sergeant Williams, I assure you that you do not need an introduction. It’s an honor to meet you. Thank you for your service.”

Grady posed for a few pictures, and I realized that in this environment he was a celebrity. This man was in awe of Grady.

The man placed his arm around me, in a fatherly hug. “Well, ma’am, you’re a lucky young lady to have a man like Grady Williams by your side.”

The fear pulsed through my veins as the owner pulled me aside to ask if I’d ever shot before.

“Yes, sir, I have but it was years ago. I’ll be honest, I’m pretty scared.”

“Well, you couldn’t have a better teacher. Grady’s a legend.”

We were led into the shooting area that kind of resembled a really secure bowling alley, long lanes separated by partitions. Grady fitted me with goggles and ear protectors, then his face turned serious. “Okay, Isa. We have some safety rules. First rule, treat every weapon as if it were loaded. Second, never point a weapon at anything you do not intend to shoot. Third, keep your weapon on safety until you’re ready to fire. I will walk you through each step. Now, carefully pick up the pistol.”

I hesitated to grab the gun, my heart beating rapidly. Grady had brought his own pistol, a matte camouflaged-colored piece of death, which he informed me was a Colt M45.

What had my mom felt before she retrieved my father’s gun from the safe? Why had he given her the code? Did she think of me before she blew her brains out?

I choked back tears.

Grady leaned into me. “You okay, baby? You don’t have to do this.”

I swallowed hard. “No, I’m fine. I want to.”

Picking up the gun with my right hand, the cold metal imprinted on my palm. It felt heavy, its deadly steel haunting in my hands. I shivered; I didn’t know if I could go through with this. I made sure to keep pointing the gun down range as I drew in a shaky breath.

“Good, baby. Now load the magazine.”

With my left hand, I loaded the magazine, careful to not pinch my fingers.

“Great job. Your stance is good, keep your legs parallel, arm extended. You will feel recoil when you shoot. Let it happen. Don’t tense up, and keep your weapon pointed in a safe direction.”

He wrapped his arms around me, his hands steady, his hard body pressed into mine. He took the weapon and adjusted my hands around it, his hands around my own, as if he was protecting me from the gun.

“You got this, babe. Now just aim and fire. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

The target was one of those paper bodies with a red heart. My hand slowly pulled back the trigger, and I fired and let out a yelp. The recoil surprised me, but Grady held me firmly in his grasp. A huge wave of relief swept over me.

“Good job, baby. Keep going.”

I pressed the trigger again, this time more confident. Bam, bam, bam, bam. Electricity pulsed through my veins; my heart beat fiercely. I felt alive, in control, strong, and powerful.

As I rode this new high, I placed the weapon down, relieved to relinquish its weight, both physical and emotional.

Grady picked up the gun. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

I took a step back, and Grady fired the weapon over and over. With precision.

Bam, bam, bam.

Every shot dead center. His face was calm, centered, focused. No hesitation.

My mouth dropped. I was so turned on despite myself. How hot was this guy? I’d never had a military fetish, never been attracted to a man who shot guns. But being around this man, this superhero, for once in my life, I felt completely safe.

After he fired the final shot dead center in the imaginary enemy’s forehead, he unloaded the magazine, placed his gun in a case, and we walked out of the range.

As we exited the building, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed me sweetly. Kisses have different purposes in life—some are for lust, some are for pity, some are for love. This one was for comfort. It was tender, dare I say loving. It was an amazing kiss. I had so much to say to him, desperately wanting to tell him more about my mother, but once again I was at a loss for words. Grady always rendered me speechless.