She fumbled around for the card with his phone number. She never saved it in her phone. That would have made it too easy. “A group of his boys came out to do a presentation for my self-defense class. Rebecca saw the video footage and called us over.” She found the card buried under a pile of messages. “If I could only find the phone.”
She rummaged around the desk. A pile of folders fell off the edge, revealing her phone. “Ah.”
“So you and this Davis guy have gotten close?”
The question startled Ari and she forced herself to act naturally. “I wouldn’t say ‘close’,” she lied. She started dialing the phone.
“You seem like you have a lot of work to do,” he said. Ari glanced up and noticed the tense line between his eyes was still there. “Can I come by tonight?”
“Sorry, I have so much junk to do today. Every day I get further behind. But tonight sounds great.”
“I’ll bring dinner.”
“Thank you,” Ari said. Nick leaned down and gave her a kiss. Warm and soft. Something nice to hold onto for the rest of the day.
***
Peter waved Ari back when she entered the gym. No one was at the counter, but he and a couple of the guys took turns in the gym area pummeling the tar out of a weight bag. Loud, angry music played over the speakers, so loud it made her chest vibrate. She guessed that was one way to get out the aggression.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to Peter. “You let me know if I can do anything, okay?”
“Thanks.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “You looking for Davis?”
“Yes, is he here?”
“Go on back to his office. I’ll get him.”
Ari followed the familiar hallway to his office. She paused before opening the door, wondering what she was doing there. Where was this going? How did the lines between her and Davis get so muddled? Was she there as his co-worker or secret lover? Did she offer comfort with her body or a sympathetic ear?
Confused but determined, she pushed the door open. She stopped herself from sitting on the couch. After the other day, it seemed inappropriate. They’d crossed—no smashed—through the boundary lines and she had no idea what to do. “What have I done?” she muttered to herself.
Davis appeared at the office door damp and clean from a shower. He wore a dark blue, long-sleeved thermal and jeans. The smell of his soap followed him into the room, masking the sweaty smell from the gym.
“You didn’t have to stop working out for me,” Ari said.
“It’s okay.” He shut the door. “How are you?”
“Me? I think the better question is how are you?”
His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “Managing. For the kids. The guys.”
Ari took a step forward, fumbling for words. “I just...” She held her hand out, wavering in its destination. She didn’t have to decide though. Davis grabbed it and pulled her to his chest.
“Can I?” he asked. His mouth right above hers. She saw the pain in his eyes and the pink of his lips.
“Yes.”
***
They only kissed. Slow and lingering, filled with sorrow and pain. Davis led her to the couch and she sat in his lap. His hands didn’t wander, neither did his mouth. After some time, he buried his face into Ari’s sweater.
She raked her fingernails over his stubbly hair. He wanted to feel something other than the horror of Alvarez’s death. Ari understood this. They were the same. The same desperation and hollowness had led them to one another.
Feeling the need to connect, Ari reached for her sweater sleeve. She pulled it up to reveal the tiny star on the inside of her elbow. “I got this one when I graduated. Oliver and I drank too much tequila and we agreed to go get a tattoo. He chickened out, of course.”
Davis ran a thumb over the star, sending a chill up her spine.
“These three,” she inched up her skirt, revealing the tender flesh on her inner thigh. “Came after a particularly interesting night in Vegas. I should have tattooed it in glitter.” Ari dropped the skirt before he could touch her.
Davis looked at her with tired, wary eyes and she ran her hand down the side of his face, sliding her fingers down his sharp, tight jaw.
“The ones closest to me are these two.” She shifted and showed the two tiny dark stars on her collarbone. “I got these when my parents died.”
“So these represent events in your life?” His fingers ran down her arms, but his eyes stayed glued to the stars.
“Moments. Things I don’t want to forget. Feelings I want etched in my skin as a reminder.” An awkward silence passed between them. “You wanted to know what they were for. That’s what they mean. Scars of my life.”
They sat quietly together and Davis touched the tattoos that he could see. He took a deep breath and said, “My mother died when I was 13. That’s when my father opened the gym. He had been a fighter when he was younger. A boxer.” Davis pointed to the old cracked gloves hanging by the door. “To save me, he said. I had all this pent-up anger and energy and no mother to soothe it away. He wanted to teach me to use my power for good.”