Page 113 of Piece You Saved

“You know how to shoot,” I say, impressed despite myself.

“I’ve been to the range a couple of times.” He fires again. Twice more in fast succession.

Pop. Pop.

He doesn’t leave any more holes in the tree because he’s hitting the same one each time.

I raise my brow. “Acouple?”

From his profile, I can tell he’s smiling, so when he turns to me as he lowers the gun, I’m not surprised to see a grin stretching his lips. “Maybe more than a couple.”

He checks the gun, secures the safety, and hands it over.

I make no move to take it. After the way he touched me before, I’d be a fool to reach for it.

“I’d like to check your abdomen,” he says, still holding the gun between us.

“I said I was fine,” I say quickly, edging back.

“Fine is not pain-free. You shouldn’t be missing with the frequency you are when you have good form, you don’t rush, and you know how to fire. Somewhere, there’s a disconnect.”

His unexpected compliments make me forget to back up. “I keep missing. I’d say there was more than a disconnect.”

He cocks his head. “When you had your panic—”

“I’m not talking about that,” I cut him off, my cheeks flushing. I’ve tried not to think about how I fell apart, lost myself in it, and fainted. In front of everyone.

In front of him.

He searches my face. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Wrong. Showing weakness isalwayssomething to be ashamed of.

“Talking can help,” he says slowly. “So can medication.”

I’m already shaking my head. “Don’t need it.”

“The 3-3-3 Rule?”

I blink at him in surprise. “The what rule?”

“Focus on three things you can see. Three things you can hear. Three things you can feel,” he explains.

I wrinkle my brow. “What’s that supposed to do?”

“Ground you. It might not prevent an attack, but maybe next time it won’t get to be so bad you pass out.”

I remember my phone call with Rylan. Harley touched his knee with mine, and it quietened the panic and stopped me from getting lost in the past. When I focused on what was happening around me: Dariel’s fury, Kade gripping the whiskey bottle, how the phone felt cold and hard in my hand and against my ear, I was okay. When I stopped… Well. I woke up hours later with no memory of what had happened.

“You’re a surgeon. What do you know about that?”

“Everyone can benefit from grounding, Jane.”

“Even you?” I ask.

He nods. “Even me. Maybe try it when you shoot next time. Now. This bruise.”

I edge back toward the backdoor, hoping I’m not about to trip over something. “No need.”

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