That’s a lie. I’m terrified of shooting. I’m afraid of the recoil like he mentioned. I’m afraid of the bang. I’m afraid of looking like a fool because I do it wrong. If I were rich, I’d hire a full-time bodyguard to stand at my bedroom door while I slept because I’m exhausted and that makes me emotional. And being emotional makes me angry because I should have better control over myself.
The gun starts to shake in my hands.
I clear my throat, muttering under my breath motivational things like—you’re doing great, Hayden. You got this. Don’t be scared.
“You don’t have to be scared. Here. Move this one down just a little. When you shoot for real, you’re going to end up with slide burn if you’re that high.”
Now I have to worry about the individual parts of the gun hurting me?
Jesus, I may just not even show up to the next two classes.
I can’t even focus on the fact that he heard my not so flowery affirmations.
“Pull the slide back, point, aim and shoot.”
“It’s not loaded,” I remind him.
“I know, but get used to the click before worrying about the boom.”
Quinten takes a step back, not saying another single word to me as I get in position and do as he says. I flinch the first time I get the courage to squeeze the trigger, but after I realize that it isn’t going to jump out of my hands, I find it easier to repeat.
Quinten goes to help someone else while Parker and I trade off, her using a loaded weapon and me clicking mine a handful of times.
I tell Parker I’m staying behind, thinking maybe shooting in an empty room would be easier if I don’t have any witnesses if I look stupid. When class is over, I head to the front and wait my turn to step up to the counter. The guy doesn’t bat an eye when I tell him that I want to re-rent the gun and purchase a box of practice ammunition.
The transaction is smooth, and I’m feeling a little more confident when I step into the firing lane alone, but my throat is still dry. I check the gun, just like Quinten instructed even though it was never out of my sight and I cleared it before leaving the room the first time.
Instead of loading an empty magazine, I slide bullet after bullet into the magazine until it’s full, but then I find my hands shaking again when I pick it up to slide it into position.
It takes another five minutes of me staring down at the thing, legs quaking a little before I slide the magazine home, and another three minutes before I pull the slide back to move that first bullet into position. When that is done, I lay the thing back down, making sure that the muzzle is pointed down range at all times like he mentioned during my first full class.
After several long breaths, I pick it back up, terror filling my blood and making my forehead sweat a little.
I’m trying to talk myself into actually going through with it when I hitch my shoulder to attempt to catch a bead of sweat rolling down at my temple, and then the damn thing just goes off in my hand.
Chapter 11
Quinten
“Thanks as always,” I tell Adam, tapping the doorframe of his office before leaving for the night. “I turned off the lights in the classroom.”
“What are you teaching these women?”
My mind goes straight to Gayle who was shockingly absent in class today, but then I look past him at the video monitor on his desk.
“She spent ten minutes at what looked like psyching herself up to shoot. She fires off a single shot. I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but I don’t even think she did that one on purpose, and now, for five minutes, she’s been standing like that.”
Hayden is standing at lane three with her head lowered and her hands on her hips.
“She pulled the trigger?”
“I saw the brass eject, but I don’t think it was on purpose.”
“Hmm.” Maybe she did just need to be alone to do it the first time.
“See that shake?” he asks, pointing to the screen when she picks the gun back up. “I better go see if she needs some help.”
I clamp a hand on his shoulder before he can fully stand. “I’ll do it.”
“Quickly,” he urges. “Before she hurts herself.”
The room is empty except for her, so she can hear when I open the door and join her. Since leaving Adam’s office, she’s laid the gun back down, resuming her stance with her hands on her hips. When she turns to face me, I notice that her forehead is damp, but there’s a soft smile on her face.
“I shot it.”
“And it scared you so badly, you’re terrified to do it again?”