Page 9 of The Shadow

“You don’t like the tattoos?” Instinctively, my arm flexes a little and her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip when she watches the movement.

“No, no! I do, I like them a lot actually.” She lifts her hand and reaches out to trace the outline of one of mine. “Do they all mean something?”

Either I’m fucking crazy or this martini went straight to my head, but I need to steer this conversation back toward her boss because the way she’s looking at me right now has my mind going in a completely different direction. I watch her finger trace the outline of my tattoo, her eyes following her movements. I clear my throat and sit back, breaking the contact.

“No, they don’t. I just liked them so I got them.” She’s still lost in thought, staring at my arms. “So why did he come over tonight?”

“Who? Oh.” Her face falls again. “He just wanted to see my new place.”

“And he didn’t take no for an answer?”

She squirms. “I-I didn’t tell him no.”

“Why not?” She shrugs again and I lean forward. “Aspen, are you too scared to tell him no?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not that. I-I’m a people pleaser,” she says, a little ashamed. “I know it’s a horrible habit and I need to learn to say no, but I didn’t and I should have. I just told him I had a boyfriend instead so he’d get the hint.”

“You realize that isn’t normal to have to tell your boss you have a boyfriend so that he will respect your boundaries? Or any man for that matter?” My blood pressure is ratcheting up and I think of my military training. Reacting emotionally is a quick and easy way to get yourself killed or completely blowing your cover.

“I— It’s hard navigating things like this, especially when I need my job.” Her face grows serious. “But I can navigate it…” She looks at me. “On my own.”

“Okay.” It’s not okay and this in no way means I’m going to stop paying attention if he comes around again, but I also realize that I can’t force her to accept my help. The last thing I want is to make her life harder or get her fired, so the only thing I can do right now is trust that she can handle it like she says. “On that note, do you regret grabbing a drink with me?”

“No, I needed it.” She pulls her oversized cream sweater down her arms and tosses it next to her purse, her light-pink blouse still overwhelming her.

Her physical appearance, the obvious weight loss, the tightly slicked-back hair and oversized clothes tell me there’s so much more to this problem than meets the eye. This isn’t just a misunderstanding between two adults. This is a toxic situation that I hope she can claw her way out of so that I don’t have to get involved.

“Have you hung out with Blaire, Harper, or Juliette lately?” I ask, referring to our mutual friends.

“Not too much. They’ve been busy with baby and pregnancy stuff and with my new job I just got busy.”

“What is the new job by the way?”

“Oh, I’m a cyber security systems analyst. Senior systems analyst actually.” She says the last part almost under her breath.

“Hey, that’s something to be really proud of. Sounds like something the smart kids in school would end up doing.”

“Yeah.” She shrugs again, her eyes drifting from mine which has me wondering why she wouldn’t be proud of herself for the promotion. “Thanks again for this.” She motions between us. “Like I said, I needed it. But”—she reaches for her purse and sweater—“I should probably get back home.”

“Thanks for joining me.” I toss a few bills on the table and walk her back outside toward our building. The elevator ride is silent, her shoulder so close to me that she bumps against me when the car starts to move. When the door opens to our floor and she takes the few steps to exit, her heel gets caught in the small crack, causing her to spill forward with her arms outstretched.

“Oh!” she yelps, her purse and sweater falling to the floor as I reach one arm around her waist, the other to hold the doors open that threaten to close.

“Are you okay?” Her body is pressed against mine. I look down to make sure her ankle isn’t twisted but it is. She slides down, reaching for her ankle as she whines in pain.

“Ow, it hurts.” I pull her foot from her shoe so that I can loosen it from the crack, her hand balancing on my shoulder as I kneel in front of her.

“Can you put pressure on it?” Her toes meet the carpet and she releases herself from my shoulder for a second before doubling over.

“Oh God!” She hops in place as I gather her things from the floor, slinging her purse over my shoulder along with her sweater before grabbing her around the waist.

“Hold on to my shoulder?” I put her hand on my shoulder, my one arm around her waist as I lift her into my arms and walk toward her door.

“I can hop.”

“No sense in that,” I say, putting her down gently before walking back to grab her shoe. She rifles through her purse for her key, sliding it into the lock. She looks up at me before slowly turning the handle and opening her door. Before she protests, I pick her up again and walk her inside to sit her on her couch.

“I’m okay, Harvey,” she tries to insist, even attempting to stand up again before whining and sitting back down.

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