The Wrong Kind of Love

The lull of birdsong echoes through the trees, and I close my eyes, remembering when Lizzy and I would play in the woods behind our house as children. A time before the horrors of the world had yet to sink their claws into me. Starting with my mothers death, and ending with Caleb’s. But I knew there was more to come. More death, more suffering. Will he keep going until Jude is dead and buried? No, I can’t lose Jude, too. He’s all I have anymore. That bastard will not take him from me, I won’t let him. A tiny ember of something possessive and angry sparks to life when I think about it, and I latch on to that. I fan the glowing sparks until it grows into a full-blown fire because rage is better than pain. To fight is better than to simply accept. And I will not accept the possibility that Tom might win. I might have started out as a pawn to get to Jude, but now Tom is every bit my enemy.

I’m not a killer, but I want him dead. I remove Caleb’s gun from the back of my jeans and stare at the shiny silver exterior. I imagine the satisfaction that would come with putting a bullet in his head. He wanted to break me, to send me back to Jude a shattered mess, but I’m still standing. When he comes for me again, I want to be ready. I want to be strong. I won’t be helpless to that man ever again.

First though, I need to learn how to shoot properly. Shoot to kill.

The screen door creaks behind me, then bangs shut. “It’s pretty out here, isn’t it?” Jude says, moving to stand beside me, a cup of steaming coffee in his hands.

He stills when he spots the gun in my hand. “I thought that was Caleb’s gun you had last night.” There’s a hint of sadness in his voice.

“I found it in his room.” I hope Jude’s not mad that I have it.

He nods, his jaw setting with emotion. “He’d want you to have it.”

I stare out at the woods, swallowing around the jagged ball of emotions that have lodged in my throat. “I loved him.” It’s a quiet confession, one I have no right to make. Caleb was Jude’s brother, not mine.

His fingers brush my cheek, catching a tear. “He loved you, too, Tor.” I hear the words he doesn’t say. Enough to sacrifice for you. Enough to die for you.

We stand there in silence for long minutes, though it’s not uncomfortable, simply reflective. I know he’s thinking of Caleb just as I am.

“You know how to use that?” he finally asks, jerking his chin toward the gun.

I shake my head. “Only what Caleb told me that one time…” The time we were chased by the cartel and I had to shoot a guy about five times to hit him once. “Can you teach me?”

“Sure.”

He takes a seat on the old porch swing and I stare at him.

“Now? It’s eight in the morning….”

“Do you have something better to do in the middle of nowhere?”

On a heavy sigh, he takes a sip of coffee, then places the mug on the worn wood railing before standing up. “Fine. Come on.” He leads me down the steps, past a pile of firewood and a rusted lawn mower to a tree with a sloppy, faded target painted on its trunk. Bullet holes scar the bark, as well as the bark of several other trees around it.

“All right,” Jude says, handing me a gun before he moves behind me. "Don't tense when you pull the trigger.” He takes my wrists in his hands, repositioning my hold on the weapon before he lifts my arms to help me aim. “Let the gun kick back. Now, line up the sight with the target." His fingers trail up my arm, sweeping hair from my neck as his lips move closer to my ear. The steady, warm rasp of his breath on my skin makes me relax a little, and I sink back against him. I focus through the tiny notch then pull the trigger. Bark splinters from the tree as the bullet lodges in the first ring of the target.

“It’s hot as shit when you shoot a gun.”

“You’re a Neanderthal.”

“Only with you, doll.” He trails featherlight kisses along my throat, his hands skimming along my sides. Gentle. Tentative. And I know it’s deliberate after last night. “I want you so damn bad, Tor.”

I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that he still wants me after what Tom did, but the bulge pressing against my ass makes me stiffen. A subtle breath leaves his lips before he makes a small space between us.

“Shoot it again.”

Guilt and anger lash at me. Guilt because I’m pushing Jude away and anger at myself for letting Tom do this to me, to us.