GUN IN MY HAND

CHAPTER 32: GOOD OR BAD?

'They say it's what you make

I say it's up to fate

It's woven in my soul

I need to let you go

Your eyes, they shine so bright

I wanna save that light'

"I can't believe you fucking did this!" The sharp words were louder than the creaking of the door, pinning me on spot before I'd even taken one step inside.

Yet I hadn't done anything technically. I had no reason to gulp like that; well, I had maybe with the few fresh images flashing through my mind. But how could Blade even know?

"What? I don't have the right to see my old best friend?" As surprising as it was, this question didn't come out of my parted lips; it was the now-familiar voice of Pete booming from behind the left door, and it made me realize I was alone in the entrance hall, with only the shiny guns staring at me from behind the counter.

Blade's voice had this power to cut through so deep inside your chest that it could feel like he was a few inches away even when he was afar, especially at this moment as I discovered a rawer inflection that reached easily from another room, and I was probably reckless to try to walk closer.

"Don't play fucking innocent! You can 'see' all your old friends, but don't mess with my business."

These words weren't directed towards me, though they could probably apply to me when I'd seen Spencer just this morning, and I was currently standing behind the ajar door, eavesdropping on their argument. I surely should have taken this as a warning, but instead, my shaky hand knocked on the door that led to the 'private' part of the shooting range.

"He told me everything."

Was this a 'come in' or 'get lost'? Clearly, they hadn't heard me. But for the tickles of curiosity or just shitty instincts arising in my insides, Blade's voice felt like an open invitation.

I had no idea what they were talking about, yet it appeared important, and I had to find out more.

"You really told him to not retire?"

"I told him to wait a few more years maybe. You're still young, and I don't want you to miss great opportunities and regret it."

I could have still turned back. I was in the dark hallway, and from what I was hearing, they were in the main room – I'd come here enough times in the past week to start to know their house – and they hadn't seen me.

Yet the word 'opportunities' kept my feet firmly planted on the floor.

"It's my great opportunity! I don't have loads of opportunities knocking at my door, and you know how hard I work my ass off for this."

"And you could work your ass off as hard for another job. Opportunities don't come at your door, you go find them. That's why I'm telling you to take more time."

"Like I haven't lost enough time trying in the past years!" Blade laughed, the loud sound carrying no humor, only bitterness that invaded my tight chest, and in the narrow space of my ribcage, all the heartache, worries, and questions about me and my life were pushed back, forgotten. At least, Blade still had this power, and I could picture too easily his large smirk, the edges of his jaw, and the sharpness of his gaze.