Ranger - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,41

of the house, and I liked it.

It feels good to have accomplished something and even more to have checked such a big task off my to-do list. Granted, my body is cursing me because standing on a ladder apparently utilizes muscles that don’t get much exercise otherwise, and my shoulders didn’t appreciate me holding a brush for that long. But those are minor details.

What counts is that I’m proud of myself, and that’s a feeling I haven’t had in a while. I find myself smiling—in itself a rare occurrence. Unless I’m with Julian, who for some reason makes me happy all the time. Happy enough to sleep well. When he’s with me at least. That nap I took, holding him in my arms, is the deepest I’ve slept in months.

I take out my phone, then hold it up at the right angle so it shows my naked chest, and take a picture.

Ranger: Need any more work done? I’m dressed for the occasion

Julian: Give me a second to wipe off my drool

I love how open and unashamed he is about what he likes. In this case, me. He’s made no secret of the fact that my body turns him on, and it means something to me, though I don’t want to dig too deep to find out why. Every man likes to hear he’s attractive, I tell myself because obviously, that’s why Julian’s praise always makes me feel like I’m a better man than I think I am.

Julian: Sadly, no urgent handyman work available, but I’m happy to make something up if that means I get to stare at you working shirtless again…

My fingers already hover over the keyboard, but I change my mind. Every time we’ve met, it has been either here or at his house. And while I’d love to invite him to my place and show off my work, I’m worried about the message that will send. Look at me, painting the house! Sure, it’s a monumental accomplishment for me, but it feels…weak.

It’s not. Rationally, I know that. But a man has his pride. I don’t want Julian to always see me as needing help, as vulnerable. He needs to discover that I’ve got skills too other than being able to fix a fence, wearing no shirt. I want to show him I’ve got skills, even if they’re not obvious ones. So what can I do with him to share that other side of me?

I snap my fingers. That’s it. The answer comes so quickly it’s clearly the right choice. I can even argue that I’m doing it because I’m worried about him, not because of some stupid male pride.

Ranger: Pardon the abrupt segue, but have you ever shot a gun?

Julian: Erm, yeah. Once, way back, when my father had a flash of bonding need and took me to a shooting range. Can’t say I remember much more than ‘don’t point at what you don’t want to shoot.’

Ranger: Well, that’s a great lesson to remember. Would you like me to teach you?

He’s read my message but doesn’t respond right away. Maybe I need to explain why? Not my reason, of course, but clarify that I want him safe.

Ranger: I was just thinking that you live there pretty isolated, so it might be good for you if you learned how to shoot so you can defend yourself if necessary. Not just from people but from animal attacks as well.

Julian: I don’t mean to be insensitive, but are you sure it’s a good idea for you? Won’t it trigger you? I’m afraid you can’t bring Benny. It would be way too loud for him.

How sweet of him to worry about that. It shows not only how much he knows about PTSD but also how much he cares about Benny and me.

Ranger: No, but thank you for checking. My triggers are unexpected sounds and movements. A shooting range is all expected actions. Plus, I’m the one shooting, so I’ll be in control. And I’ll have you with me…

Julian: Oh, okay. Good. In that case, I’d love to.

We set up a time for tomorrow, and I’m pretty damn proud of myself all over again as I put my phone away. “I’ve still got moves,” I tell Benny, whose eyes betray nothing of the utter laughability he must feel about that statement. God bless dogs.

The next day, my muscles are slightly better. That yoga shit really does work, I’m telling you. It can’t cure mental stuff, but it sure as fuck helps my