Part of Your World

The Range

The morning dawned frigid and misty, not unusual for this location and time of year. I slipped my right eye closed, honing in with my left through the scope. My left wasn't my dominant eye, but after years of our father's boot camp, he'd ensured his sons had no such weaknesses. Still, it was uncomfortable, irritating. I let out a slow, steady breath, eye on the black crosshairs, a metal figure of a man poised right where I needed him to be. I flipped the safety off, letting out my last breath, left pointer finger easing down on the trigger.

The shot was a thousand yards, and I couldn't miss. I put more pressure on the trigger.

"God, can you hurry the fuck up? My body can't regulate temperature like yours," Jonah whined. I bristled, gritting my teeth. Nick and I had been locked in a heated competition all morning, our moods nothing short of angry after our women had left. It had been his idea to come to the range, but my idea to turn this into a bet.

Annoyed, I fired off the shot, waiting the span of a few heartbeats to hear the faint sound of bullet connecting with steel. I smirked, ejecting the casing and flicking the safety back on before turning my shit-eating-grin to Nick. He stood with his arms crossed, deep frown on his face. Jonah was beside him in his electric wheelchair, bundled against the freezing November morning.

"Lucky shot," he growled. I snorted, standing from the stump-turned-seat.

"Jonah distracted me and I still managed to hit the fucker between the eyes," I shot back. Jonah snorted, wheeling over to the long table that held an array of weaponry. Nick scratched at his jaw, the wheels in his mind turning to conjure up a new challenge. I stalked forward, patting him on the shoulder.

"It's ok, just admit defeat."

"We're tied, dumbass. We've both received the same amount of points for each challenge."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms against the harsh breeze and staring out across the field. It was flanked on both sides by massive evergreen trees, the dying, yellow grasses in the middle sodden by recent rain and snow. The sparse midsection swept up into a hillside, and beyond that were more trees, more green. I wanted to hate it, just to prove Nick wrong on anything, but I couldn't. The landscape was unforgiving and therefore beautiful. Even under grey skies and low fog, it was appealing, everything coated in an almost bluish glow despite the rather early time of day.

I exhaled, watching my breath puff out in a small cloud, chancing a peek at Jonah. He seemed distracted enough at the moment, taking apart his handgun, likely to figure out why he'd lost to us. I felt Nick shift beside me.

"What's on your mind?" he said, keeping his voice low. I crossed my arms, glaring at my steel-toed boots and kicking at the shells on the ground before bringing my eyes to him. His jaw ticked, his black beanie stretched snug around his head. I grit my teeth again, fighting the words that needed to come out.

"I want to propose."

I brought my eyes away from his face, not wishing to see whatever judgement he wanted to cast upon me for this decision. I didn't miss the way his icy eyes widened, though, or the way he exhaled and then chuckled. The small laugh turned into a bigger laugh, and I brought my most vehement glare to his face once again.

"I'm trying to be serious, asshole."

He held up his hands in surrender, grin still playing at his lips.

"I support you, Maks. One-hundred percent. She's perfect for you."

It was my turn for my eyes to widen. I'd been expecting resistance, pushback, for him to tell me to think this through thoroughly.

"Seriously?"

He gave a sharp nod, eyes sweeping out to the range before he gave a shrug.

"When you know, you just...know. I tried to fight it with Ellie because...because of the circumstance. I didn't want to seem like I was taking advantage of a situation, but we just couldn't help it," he said, throwing me a smirk. I returned it.