Page 36 of Exes Don't

I’ve got to say something. Acknowledge the tattoo. It’s the screaming elephant in the room. She’s making a good show of being super interested in the nearby squat racks, but a personcan only stare so long at a metal weight contraption. There’s not that much to it.

“So, about the tattoo…” I say.

Rose whips her head toward me, but she’s not quite meeting my gaze.

“It’s—”

“You told me you never wanted a tattoo,” she interrupts me.

I punch out a breath. I remember that. We were lying out on the beach, and she was tracing her finger over the curves and slopes of my back. She started drawing shapes and pictures and having me guess what she was illustrating. We got on the subject of tattoos—if we had any, if we wanted any, where we’d get one. I told her I didn’t know if I’d ever find something I wanted to be permanently tied to.

“I did,” I say slowly.

She bites her lip. “What changed?”

I consider my answer. It doesn’t exactly seem like the time or place to explain that she changed me. She changed everything. She came into my life, and for the first time in my entire existence, I believed I’d found a true partner, someone who had my back—who I could trust. I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to be near her, somehow, someway. Forever. Even now, when I can’t sleep, I close my eyes and imagine the gentle touch of her finger swirling a rose petal pattern against my skin.

So, when TJ took us to the tattoo parlor, it was a no-brainer for me. I wanted a rose.

“I don’t know.” I choose my next words carefully. “I guess there are certain things I want to hold onto. Certain things I want to hold close. Even after they’re gone.”

Her blue eyes glisten, and she nods quickly. “Right. Well, that makes sense. I always knew you had a soft spot forBeauty and the Beast, anyway.”

I arch my eyebrows.

“The rose. It’s a great tribute to the movie.”

I stare at her. I want to laugh, but I’m afraid she’d punch me, and her fists are surprisingly strong, so I bite my lip. “The movie.” I speak slowly, trying and failing to keep the sarcasm from my voice. “Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

She claps her hands. “So. Working out, right? That’s why you brought me here?”

My mouth goes dry when she unzips her parka. She’s wearing a navy-blue sports bra and high-waisted workout leggings. She toes off her winter boots and digs into her bag for her gym shoes.

My gaze goes immediately to her arms. She’s got the most toned arms of anyone I’ve ever seen, and they are accentuated by the racerback top she’s wearing. Did I intentionally invite Rose to work out with me so I could see her in her athletic gear? No. I’m not that shallow. But I’ll admit it’s a nice perk.

We used to work out together all the time. She’d go toe-to-toe with me in any of my crazy weight-lifting and endurance regimens. It was how we spent a lot of quality time in Mobile. I thought today, if I can get her back to a place of remembering how good we are together, maybe she’ll give me—give us—another chance.

It’s a long shot, but it’s better than no shot at all. I’ve completed my fair share of Hail Marys over the years, so why not try with Rose?

My workout today will mostly be light weights and functional movements. We have a game on Sunday, so I’m not lifting anything crazy, but I need to stay loose and fluid.

I walk over to the squat racks I set up for myself and Rose earlier. I guessed on the weight based on what I remembered her lifting in the past. I motion her over.

She studies her rack before wordlessly swinging the cuff lock off the end of one side and adding a ten-pound disc.

I mimic her and do the same on the other side. Apparently, she’s gone up in weight since we last worked out together.

“Don’t underestimate me,” she says coolly. She centers herself under the bar and flexes her hands.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m doing three sets of ten. You can do whatever is comfortable.”

“Four sets of ten it is.” She adjusts her grip. “Spot me.”

She says it as a demand. My body reacts to her self-confidence. It’s sexy as all get out, and it feels like someone picked me up and dunked me head-first into boiling water. I take a step back, giving her space to do her thing, but I stay close enough in case she needs a hand. Rose has enviable squatting form. Her butt nearly touches her calves as she goes through her set. I’m not trying to look at her butt, I swear. But it’s difficult to miss. She’s strong and graceful, and my own limbs feel a little like rubber, watching her completely own her workout.

I try my best to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Feel free to ask your questions while we work.”

She grunts and finishes her last rep of the set. She follows me over to my bar, and it’s my turn. “I see what you’re doing here…bringing me into your space. This den of masculinity.”

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