by Sofia Aves
Positioning me, so I faced the target head-on, John fussed about, adjusting my stance, squaring my shoulders. I found the three tiny posts to aim with, but they might have been pinheads for all that I could get them to line up. With John repeating the sequence in my ear, reminding me to push forward as I squeezed the trigger, I was ready. Stance, aim, squeeze.
I ran over it in my head, hands sweaty on the grip. Stance, aim, squeeze. I breathed in.
Stance, aim, CLICK.
I flinched, dropped the gun, and stepped back, wiping my hands on my pants. I looked over to John.
“What happened?” My voice was shaky.
“It wasn’t loaded, Mila. But it is good to get past that first shot. Most people jump the first time. It’s not just you. Now, we fix the stance.” John returned to his fussing until I felt like a mannequin being primped for a window. Finally, he gave a happy nod. I tried to nod back without moving the rest of me. John laughed.
“Breathe, Mila. And relax those hands!”
I tried, but nothing felt right. I was all angles; breathing and thinking at the same time was too hard, and my arms ached already. My frustration must have been obvious, because John patted my arms, signalling me to lower them.
He pointed out how to unload the weapon, facing it away from myself, or anyone else. I smiled, shaking trembling arms out with relief as I listened. A bottle of water appeared beside me. Cal leaned against the bay wall, nursing a cup of coffee. He saw my envious look and batted my hands away.
“Mine. You get one when you’ve fired fifty rounds, tightly clustered.”
“Fifty!” I exclaimed, then lowered my voice. “I haven’t even fired it properly once yet.”
Cal smirked at me. I narrowed my eyes, thinking of ways I could return the favour. John clapped Cal’s shoulder, sliding out of the small booth, which was ridiculously cramped with three people in it. He sent me a reassuring look when I drew in quick breaths.
“You will be fine with Cal. He is the best.”
It was said so simply, I didn’t doubt the truth of his statement.
John patted Cal’s arm again, and with a broad grin, left us alone. I looked up at Cal, unsure of what to do. A different sort of tension gripped me as my eyes trailed up the fitted black tee he wore over his jeans. It barely concealed the muscles I knew were hidden beneath the thin material. His eyes darkened, the annoying smirk still present. I fought the urge to smack him. He knew this made me uncomfortable, but he seemed to find me amusing, anyway. It wasn’t helpful.
“Tell me everything John told you.”
I sighed and began to parrot everything I’d learned. Cal leaned against the side of the booth. Close, but never touching. Small comments had me straightening one arm, relaxing the other. Pulled my shoulders down, counted me through breathing exercises. Finally, he deemed me ready to fire.
My finger was on the trigger, my thoughts muddled with not snatching at it, not pulling, just pressing with the pad of my finger. The handgun trembled in my hands. I closed my eyes, unable to move.
It was too much.
I took a deep breath in — or tried to. A shallow breath shuddered in, my heart only just keeping a steady rhythm. Warm hands slid along my arms, folding around my hands. Cal’s chest pressed against my back, his knees nudging the backs of my thighs. I leaned back a tiny bit into him, but his arms pushed my shoulders down.
“Breathe with me,” he murmured into my hair, his breath brushing my cheek. “Close your eyes and breathe.”
I followed him, inhaling as his chest rose against my back, exhaling when he did. After a few moments, I opened my eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Breathe again, but this time, let the breath go all the way out, and don’t take another. Focus and fire.” He stepped away.
I gripped the pistol, then relaxed my hands. Breathe in, breathe out. Empty, the world around me fell into silence.
I pulled the trigger.
The recoil wasn’t bad, and I put the gun down quickly, unloading it the way John had shown me. I turned to Cal. He had retreated a few steps, resuming his post against the booth wall.
“Was that– did I do okay?”
His expression was unreadable.
“What do you think?”
I searched the target for any sign of a bullet hole, but couldn’t find a single one. Maybe I’d missed the entire sheet? Cal reached over my shoulder, pressing a button to retrieve the target. He unclipped it from its peg, laying it out in front of me. In a circle of black, just left of centre, was a small hole. I touched it, a little shocked it had all worked.
“I can’t believe I hit it.” I grinned at Cal. Something loosened in my chest, and I was suddenly glad he’d brought me here.
“Don’t get too happy. You have a lot more to do.”
Cal wasn’t kidding. He put a tiny white circle over the bullet hole — like a Band-Aid for the target — and sent it back down the lane. After twenty more shots or so, he replaced the target, sending the new one just little further back, showing me how to compensate for the difference in range.
An age later, my vision was beginning to blur, and my hands shook with overuse. Cal checked my last lot of shots, nodding.
“You’ve done well, for the first time you’ve ever held a gun.”
I offered him a wan smile.
“I had a good teacher. Two,” I corrected as John approached, a styrofoam cup in one hand. My stomach rumbled, and Cal laughed. John held the coffee out. I took it, grateful.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome any time, Mila. Even without Cal.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MILA
I yawned as we got back into the truck. Cal looked over at me speculatively.
“Do you have enough energy to go out for lunch, or do you want me to take you home?”
“Lunch sounds good...oh, my god, how is it after midday? You’re a slave driver,” I accused him. He grinned, pulling away from the curb.
“Do you have somewhere in mind?”
I leaned back in my seat and shook my head. I was too drained to even think.
“You pick.”
“You did really well, Mila. Thank you for trusting me.” Cal squeezed my hand.
I smiled with my eyes closed, glad to be alone with Cal and no one else for right now.
We ended up at a small Chinese restaurant, just a block away from Eat Street. Inside, the lights were dimmed. Red wallpaper dominated the small space, giving it a cosy warmth. Fans and lanterns decorated the ceiling, while concertina screens depicting mountain scenes gathered around the tables, affording a degree of privacy.
Cal spoke to a woman who greeted us quietly in Chinese, gesturing us to the back of the restaurant. My stomach rumbled as we passed by the kitchen.
I slid into the booth, flicking through the menu. Cal slipped in beside me, and I bit my lip. He shook his head.
“I just can’t sit with my back to the room. I need to see everything.”
He shifted beside me; his eyes were dark. I wondered if he was as aware of my presence as I was of his. Heat emanated from him. I tried not to squirm, studying the laminated tabletop scored with a million tiny scratches. Cal leaned over my shoulder, reading the menu I’d spread out, his breath tickling the crook of my neck.
The tension between us was a huge thing. I loved it, but I was also worried that was all it would be — lust. Once the honeymoon period wore off, would I be alone again? He kept doing so much: providing protection, giving me a safe place to sleep — well, an almost-safe place. I snorted softly, thinking of his fingers sliding over my lips and crossed my legs, pressing my thighs together.
I flicked over the menu, trying to make out the tiny writing. Cal’s hand landed over mine on the page, pointing out a crispy duck dish, stuffed with shallots and mushroom.
“Or did you want seafood again? The duck is something special; trust me.” His fingers drifted across my hand, sending more shivers over me. I closed my eyes, des
perately hoping that we were more than just physical tension.
He was right. The duck was amazing, And we had enough left over not only to share with Ashley for dinner but something to give the boys as thanks when we got home.
“Wonder if Ashley has primped the boys up yet,” I murmured, leaning back with a full stomach. The duck had been far too easy to overindulge in. Cal nodded, mirth lighting his eyes as he stretched his arms across the back of the padded bench seat.
“I’ll bet she has. More unicorn puffs in my carpet, I expect.”
“Well, they have to roam free. Wait, why aren’t Danny and Micah at work today?” The thought occurred to me way too late. “Is Teddy holding the fort on his own?”
“We usually work seven days. No one has a break much, though sometimes we go out in the evenings to let off a little steam.”
“You don’t have a day off? Wait, I thought you did when I met you.”
“We take time as we need it, usually when there’s little going on. And when I took you out for lunch, I wasn’t sure…”
I sat back into the seat, breath leaving me. When he wasn’t sure if he could trust me; when he thought I was one of Logan’s crew.
A spy.
Silence fell between us, a heaviness hovering, as though ready to crush everything we’d made up in the last few days.
And what is that, exactly?
I didn’t have an answer to my own question.
“What do you think now? Do you trust me yet, Cal?”
“Honey, I let you sleep in my bed, I made you come on my kitchen bench…I think we’re passed the trust issue now.”
And we were back to sex, again. Would it ever be more than that? Cal watched me, and I knew this was a moment he wanted a reaction, but I had no idea what to do. I was always hopeless under pressure, more likely to freeze than act — unlike Cal, who I suspected thrived in it, his natural environment.
Were we too different? A little voice in my head told me to try it before I rejected what Cal offered me, but I had trouble trusting myself, let alone someone else. Trust. I looked at him sharply. Maybe he knew me better than I had thought.
“Let’s save this for dinner, leave some for the boys?” I gestured at the spread left on the table. Cal leaned over, turning me to face him.
“Mila, please don’t run from this, from me. You don’t need to be afraid.” He squeezed my shoulders, then let his hands drop, giving me space. When I sat silent, he collected everything, standing. “I’ll get the kitchen to box it up.”
The trip home was quiet. Cal was tense again, hyper-alert, scanning our surroundings constantly. I was safe with this man, and I needed to let go of all the things that held me back from him. But it wasn’t easy to release a five-year habit born in fear.
I expected him to take the side road leading back to his nondescript building, but he kept along the main road, heading deeper into the city.
“Where are we going?”
“I need to drop into the office to store all the stuff that, uh, came out of my home office.”
He didn’t look at me, but a muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Oh.” There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. “Thank you. It’s a huge thing, you not only taking us in but reorganising your house around us.”
Reorganising your entire life around us.
But I couldn’t say it, suddenly scared he would agree it was too much, and send us off…where? It stuck in my throat, knowing I had nowhere else to go, right now. Cal smiled fleetingly.
“I don’t mind at all. Please, Mila. Stop worrying. I won’t kick you out on your own, or Ashley. Ever. You have a home with me as long as you want it — or until this thing blows over.”
But how long would that be? We couldn’t stay with him forever; each of us had a life to go to. My fingers, still sore from gripping the handgun for so many hours, itched to hold my brushes. I couldn’t go to get them, but maybe Cal had some paper floating around I could sketch on. Not painting for a few days was beginning to get to me. And I had appointments next week…
“I never finished Dolly!” The words shot out, jumbled together. Cal raised his eyebrows.
“That’s what you’re thinking about?”
“But I never even called! My god, I’m so unprofessional. How could I forget that?”
“Honey, you’ve had your house broken into, and needed to get away. Don’t worry. I already explained — well, sort of, — what was going on. I didn’t tell her you were staying. I haven’t told anyone.”
“Am I that bad?” I joked, not sure if I should be hurt, or not. Cal pulled into the car park of an office building.
“The more people that know, the easier it is for him to find you.” He grabbed a large box from the tray, hoisting it in his arms, leading me inside.
“Can you press six? I’m a bit…” He gestured with his fingers, and I giggled at the sight of him hopping from one foot to the other.
“What, Superman, you can’t do everything yourself?”
“If I were Superman, honey, this isn’t where I’d be.”
“No day job disguise for you?” I paused, pretending to study him. “Glasses might make a sexy change, give you that intellectual look.”
“You want brains, honey? Maybe you should be living in Liam’s apartment. He’s got the looks and the smarts.”
“Didn’t you say he has a flame? Might have to be you after all.”
I enjoyed the shocked look on Cal’s face as the doors slid open. The office floor was tiled with a sandy brown look, and a reception desk stood off to the side. A woman with over-straightened, cherry-red hair sat behind the desk. An odd smell struck me, and I tried to place it. As we approached, I realised she was painting her nails.
“Steph, this is Mila. I just need to put some things in my office–” The woman raised her head, and Cal broke off. She glared at me for a fraction of a second, then it was gone, but I knew from Cal’s reaction that he had seen it, too. “Is everything okay?”
Steph nodded, assessing me with hard eyes. “Sure, boss. Didn’t know you were taking in strays.”
My eyebrows flew up. Cal placed the box on top of the reception bench very gently.
“Steph, why don’t you come and help me with sorting this stuff.” His voice was sharp. It wasn’t a request. “Mila, I’ll be back in a minute.”
He collected the box again, clenching his hands on the sides, so it crushed a little at the corners. Steph glared at me, following Cal into the glass-walled inner office with a sashay of her hips. I suddenly had an idea why she’d reacted so viciously. Cal sat at a desk, kicking out a chair for his receptionist. I turned away to give them some privacy, not wanting to watch Cal dress someone down.
I studied some of the photographs hanging on the foyer walls. One was a grayscale cityscape, taken from a distance — maybe from a crane or a helicopter. I didn’t recognise which city, but even in the monochrome tones I could tell the sun was rising. Mist hovered around some of the buildings, trapped in an inversion layer. The effect of the white and black contrast made me itch to paint it.
“Brisbane. In spring,” Cal spoke behind me. I jumped, not having heard him return. Ducking my chin, I checked the desk. Steph sat quietly, her head down as she typed something. Cal gave a shrug, his lips tilted but for all the façade I could see he was still annoyed.
“Who took these?” I asked, moving to the next photograph. This one was in colour — blues and yellows dominated the scene. Still a cityscape, but flat, tiny open boxes of grid highlighted the ocean on one side, mountains framing the other.
“Barcelona. I was there for a conference a few years ago.”
“These are yours?”
Cal nodded. “I haven’t done many in the last few years, but I like seeing cities from above. Takes out the chatter, leaves what’s really there. All those people, stuffed inside their tiny space, but it’s silent.”
He led me back to his truck as I pondered his words. They struck me as odd, seein
g as he lived in an apartment but…
“You want to live in a bigger space?”
“I’d love to. I don’t have time to look after an entire house, yard…farm.” Cal rubbed the back of his neck, then stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“Work takes a lot from you, doesn’t it,” I said, studying him with new eyes. So many complex layers and I had a feeling I’d just scratched the surface.
“Yeah.”
The warm air had a chilled edge to it as he held the door of the truck open for me. Used to the height by now, I pressed one foot onto the sidestep, grabbing for the handle above the door to swing myself in. Cal’s hands brushed my waist as I slid by him, leaning his arms on the roof of the truck, looking down at me.
His black t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, lean but hard muscle framing his arms — the tail of a sea serpent coiled around his bicep, disappearing into the sleeve of his shirt. The artist had curved it around his muscles perfectly so that even still, it undulated in the waves surrounding it. I watched, mesmerised until Cal’s voice brought me back to him. There was a glint in his eye. I shifted under his gaze.
“How…how did it go, with Steph?” I had to ask, curiosity finally getting the best of me.
“I’m sorry about that. She thought I’d taken in a single mum and her daughter…which really was none of her damned business. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve let her think that. I didn’t want to say who Ashley was. I should have been more careful letting her boyfriend into the building.” He sent me an apologetic half-smile. “Guy sounds like a world-class asshole.”
“It’s okay.” I grinned ruefully. “I think she has a thing for you.”
Cal snorted. “Yeah, and half the guys in the office. She’s the girl you never take home — though after today I can promise you the boys have more class than to take her out. Mind, Danny would take home anything that walks right now.”
“What happened with him?”
