I dropped my eyes down from Zac’s mouth and then noticed a long, irritated scratch on the left side of his neck. There was also one peeking out from underneath the neckline of his tank top, as well as four scratches close together on his left bicep. After seeing all the evidence of what I now had no doubt was Avery’s volatile aggression toward Zac, I took both his hands into mine and then turned them over. To no surprise, there were more marks. Either yesterday or sometime this morning, some kind of argument/altercation took place between Zac and Avery, she physically came after him again and he defended himself against her.
When I looked back up at him, he licked his lips and it caused the cut on his bottom one to come open and start bleeding. I reached up and gently wiped away the droplet of blood with my finger. It was an automatic response to what I was seeing and Zac didn’t try to stop me. He just stood still and watched what I was doing to him.
“Try not to lick your lips so the cut can clot again,” I said, showing him my fingertip and then wiping his blood onto my shirt. He swallowed hard and nodded. “All of these marks that I see on you are your wife’s handiwork, aren’t they?”
After a long pause, he mumbled, “Yes.”
As soon as he confirmed what I already knew, I stepped the rest of the way up to him and wrapped my arms around his neck.It was another automatic response that I couldn’t help because my heart was breaking for Zac. When I hugged him, he didn’t move at first, but then I felt him slowly embracing me around my waist.
“It’s gonna be all right,” I whispered into his ear.
Zac drew in a deep breath and so did I—the two of us hidden away from the prying eyes of strangers, secure in where we were and in what we were doing. It was needed by him as much as it was by me. I was being a consoling friend to one of mine who was hurting and I wished there was more that I could do for him.
When I started letting go of Zac, he hugged my body against his even tighter and said, “Not yet. Please.”
Right or wrong, I wrapped my arms around his neck again and rested the side of my face against his. Listening to him breathing, feeling his warm skin on mine once more, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to linger within this moment.
When I started stepping away from Zac this time, he let me go and then softly smiled.
“Thank you for hugging me. Twice. I needed it,” he said.
“I know you did and you’re welcome.”
“Stevie, you know things about me now that I never intended for you to know. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
“Too late.”
“I’m not a weak man.”
“I know you’re not.”
“I stay in my marriage only because of my son.”
The cut on Zac’s bottom lip had another droplet of blood on it, so I wiped it off with my finger like before.
“You may have to stop talking to me to get that to stop bleeding,” I said, nodding at his mouth.
“I don’t wanna stop talking to you. The cut can bleed. I don’t care.”
I studied Zac’s eyes and no longer saw anger in them. Just light, kindness and—desire. Zac was starving for romantic intimacy. I could tell how much he wanted and needed to be touched, held close, cared for, and also loved. I recognized all of this in him because I felt just like he did. I was starving for romantic intimacy too, but didn’t realize it until I met him that night at Mystic Bar. No, it was when I saw him on this running trail the first time. That was when I felt myself beginning to awaken from what had been a long dormancy of my emotions and also my needs as a woman. On that day, I allowed myself to be fully attracted to everything I saw in a total stranger who unexpectedly became a friend to me less than a week later and was now on the verge of becoming something more if we weren’t both careful.
“Okay. So keep talking to me and I’ll keep tending that cut on your bottom lip,” I said.
Zac smiled at me again and then glanced down at my mouth. “Um,” he said, pointing at it. “You have something on you.”
He reached out and carefully wiped off my bottom lip with his fingertips and then held them up for me to see.
“I’mbleeding?” I asked, surprised.
“No. Some of my blood was still on your finger when you touched your mouth a minute ago. Are you grossed out now?”
“Not at all. I don’t remember touching my mouth, though.”
“Well, you did.”
Zac wiped his fingers on his tank top and then I noticed there was a shiny look to the red stain.
“And now you have my lip gloss on you. It’s mixed with your blood.”