I can’t deny how he makes me feel. “Yes, I sense something powerful when I’m with you,” I quietly admit.
“Then let’s focus on that. I don’t want to stop what it is we’ve started building between us. Please, just trust me. Let me do what I do best, and that’s protect you and safeguard our future.”
Our future? He’s really serious. He removes his hand from my back, and threads his fingers through my hair as he waits for my response, which I give him. “Okay...but eventually, I do want answers, Travis.”
“I understand, and I promise in time I will give them to you. Be patient a little while longer.” I nod, acknowledging his request. He briefly closes his eyes, sighing in relief, and pulls me to his lips by the nape of my neck, tenderly kissing me one last time. “Thank you, baby.”
Travis steps back, takes me by the hand, and gently tugs so I’ll follow him. He leads me to the backside of the shed to begin my first lesson in firearm training. As we walk hand-in-hand, I remain quiet. There are too many thoughts running rampant throughout my mind, thinking these must be dire circumstances if he wants to teach me how to handle a gun and learn how to defend myself.
I would’ve thought it best to clue me in on the dangers, but Travis always seems to know what he’s doing and looks to be in control of the situations that surround him at all times. I’m amazed at how he always comes across so self-assured and confident in his decision making.
Perhaps it is best I don’t know what’s going on after all, and to be honest, I’m not so sure I want to discover what perils are lurking in the shadows. I wouldn’t know what to look for anyway, especially since I don’t remember anyone or anything. I’d probably wind up spending all my time worrying about things I couldn’t control or fix.
I know Travis has my best interest at heart. He was beyond serious when he said he would lay down his life for me. There are just some questions that stick out to me like a sore thumb. One question is why would Travis, who has only known me for a month, guard me with his life? How could someone be so serious in this short amount of time? Granted, there is something undeniable I feel when I’m with him, but not having my memory, I can’t recall any past relationships to compare what we have to. I just wish I could remember my past to help me make a cognitive decision for my future. I know he said he’s been around the block, having had his fill of women, and he knows what he wants now, which is me. I have to ask myself, however, do I want him? What or who am I leaving behind?
I don’t know why after such a short period of time he’s decided he wants me; it seems so fast. What about me is so special that someone is willing to lay down their life for mine? Just by looking at him, I know for certain he could have any supermodel at the drop of a hat. So why me?
I’m trying very hard to remain positive and optimistic at every turn, but for some reason, I suddenly feel tired, as if I’m wearing down and giving in too easily. Travis lets go of my hand and says something I don’t catch, pulling me out of my reverie. He begins to unzip the duffel bag, which is on top of a wooden picnic table. I remain quiet while I watch him work methodically and with purpose. Once he has his items spread out across the table, he opens a black case and reveals a small handgun.
As he introduces me to his weapon, he wraps his large hand around its handle, pulling it out of the case’s padding. “This is a Sig Sauer 9mm. This model is small enough for you to handle, yet the deadly bullet size will do more than just piss an attacker off.”
Deadly bullet? My eyes go wide with dismay as I shudder at the thought. “I’m not sure how I feel about all this. Can’t I use something less lethal?” I suggest with a worried expression on my face.
“If I give you anything less than this caliber, there is the likelihood of the bullet not penetrating the perpetrator, and then you wouldn’t have delivered a lethal blow.”
“What if I don’t want to deliver a lethal blow?” I ask with uncertainty. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for this.”
“Jules, this isn’t a game.” Travis eyes me solemnly, his voice stern. “We don’t shoot to hinder and maim; we pull the trigger to kill.”
I’m shocked; the palm of my hand flies up toward my face as I cover my mouth, and I gasp half-horrified through my fingers. “What the hell am I into, Travis?” I ask searching through the stone wall expression on his face. How is he able to act so calm, collected, and unaffected, while I feel like jumping up and down in freak-out mode? “Who would be after me to the point where they would want to kill me, and in turn, I would have to beat them to the punch by killing them first?”