Page 23 of Wrecked

Using my employee badge, I let myself into the secured building. I sign in at the front desk, where a woman named Theresa is on duty this evening. After I grab paper targets and ear protection, I pass through the soundproof door leading to the indoor shooting gallery. I walk to the very last stall, passing two other employees, a man and a woman, both of whom have the same idea I do. Practice.

I stop in the same booth Cooper and I once shared on that fateful day I met him. The time he asked me if I’d kissed a man. God, that seems like a lifetime ago.

I clip on a paper target and send it out to the fifty yard mark. Then I load a magazine with rounds and put on ear protection. This time, without having someone watching over my shoulder, I’m going to have fun. My first eight shots make a perfect heart shape in the center of the target’s torso.

I empty the rest of the magazine into the target’s head, dead center, shredding the piece of paper.

It’s not until I’m reloading the magazine that I realize I’m not alone. I can feel eyes on the back of my head, and a shiver skates down my spine. It takes all I have not to visibly shiver.

Because I know who it is behind me.

When I glance back, I’m not surprised to find Cooper standing there, a small gun case slung over his shoulder.

He scans me from head to toe and finally settles on my eyes. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not even a hello?” I ask. I’m irritated that the guy walks right up to me and asks like it’s just another Tuesday. I haven’t seen or talked to him inmonths. We live in the same freaking building, but he can’t trouble himself to stop by and say hello. “How did you even know I was here?”

He raises his phone. “I get a notification every time someone signs in here. Your name popped up on my phone, and since Iwas already in the neighborhood, I thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

“That’s bullshit. You weren’t in the neighborhood. There’s nothing for miles around.”

Cooper shrugs as if to saybusted. “Mind if I join you?”

“Suit yourself,” I say. “It’s your range, right?”

He lays down his gun case on the bench seat and pulls out a Glock 19 as well as a box of ammo. While he’s loading, I pull in the ruined target and replace it with a fresh one before sending it back out to the fifty yard mark.

When Cooper’s done loading his gun, he sends the target back to the one-hundred-yard mark. He grasps his gun with two hands, takes aim, and shoots the target dead center between the eyes. One shot.

Damn.

Well, Shane did say the man was a former sharpshooter. I can see why. His aim is impeccable.

“Try it,” Cooper says, motioning for me to take his place front and center.

I take a shot and miss.

“Try again,” he says.

The second time, I manage to graze the target on the shoulder. “Great. I gave him a flesh wound. Basically, I managed to piss him off.”

Cooper chuckles. “At least you hit it. Your first shot went wide by about four inches.”

We take turns shooting. Cooper stops me occasionally to give me a tip.

We each empty two magazines.

It takes me a while to realize I’m not hearing any other gunfire in the gallery. We’re the only ones left. Cooper must realize it, too, because he lays his gun in its case and takes off his ear protection.

I take off mine, too.

“It’s been a while,” Cooper says. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” I start packing up my gear. I need to get out of here before I do or say something stupid. He may find it easy to ignore me, but being around him rattles me. Makes me want things I can’t have.

Cooper sighs. “Look, Sam, I don’t—”

“You don’t hook up with co-workers. Yeah, I get it.” It’s impossible for me to keep my resentment out of my voice.