I’d impressed him. He liked that.
“Is there a way you can teach me without us leaving Fairview?”
Vox nodded and reached behind him, pulling his handgun out from his waistband before unloading it on the coffee table in front of him. I watched him expertly disarm the weapon before snapping all the pieces back into place and handing it to me.
“You want me to practice without any bullets? What good does that do?” I wondered out loud, and Vox held up a finger before typing on his laptop. He turned the screen to face me, and I glanced down to see what he was showing me.
He’d pulled up an article titled:Why Dry Fire Practice is Important.
Dry firing apparently was learning to use a gun without ammo and helped you improve things like trigger control and sight alignment.
“Great.” I grinned, glancing at Vox, who was smirking at me like the sly fox he was. “You wanna come help me practice for a bit? I’m too wound up to sleep.”
He nodded and stood up, hiking up his black jeans as he moved.
“Let’s practice in the gym,” I said, leading him toward the basement. “Maybe we can spar a bit too.”
Vox let out a silent puff of air that I now knew was his version of a chuckle.
I grinned over my shoulder at him.
“I know, I know. You guys have corrupted me.”
Vox was full-blown grinning now, but beneath the warm amusement that swam in his silver eyes, there was an undercurrent of respect there, too.
He was glad I was taking these measures into my own hands, and something about winning the approval of Cal’s best friend felt precious and special.
I made a promise right then and there to myself that I would never do anything to fuck up the trust I had earned from either of them.
I was in this now, and there was no going back.
Ipracticed dry firing with Vox until the wee hours of the morning. By the time we finished, I was exhausted, and my head was swimming with everything I learned.
Learning to shoot a gun properly was way more complicated than just pulling the trigger. There were all kinds of minute, tiny movements, motions, and weight placement that I’d never known about. The smallest mistake could throw your aim totally off.
To make things even more challenging, Vox needed to teach me all this primarily through touch. So, needless to say, I had more than a few nights of practice in my future before I could ever be considered good enough to be of any help.
Cal, thankfully, was still sleeping peacefully when I fell into bed next to him, and when I got up a few short hours later to get in touch with Dr. Callahan, he barely budged.
I needed to wake him up when Tom arrived, and I attributed the fact that he was still half asleep to his particularly grumpy mood toward the good doctor.
“Cal, wake up. Dr. Callahan is here to check out your stitches,” I whispered in his ear. I stroked my fingers through his thick, dark hair and left soft kisses on his stubbly jawline, doing my best to wake him up as gently as possible.
I didn’t think he was at risk of attacking me if he wasn’t actively having a night terror, but I wanted to be careful, just in case.
Cal’s dark lashes fluttered on his cheeks, and he smiled, his warm brown eyes zeroing in on my face.
“Mmm. Morning, ginger snap,” he purred, sitting up to stretch. “I could get used to your gorgeous face being the first thing I see in the morning.”
I grinned at him as he yawned. “Likewise, baby.”
His sleepy smile stretched wider at my use of the word ‘baby’but immediately slipped off his face when his gaze finally landed on Tom Callahan.
“Who the fuck is that?” he snapped, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
“This is Dr. Callahan. Remember I told you about him? He’s here to check on your stitches.”
Cal’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze darted back and forth between Tom and me.
