Page 18 of Ink Me Three Times
Ivy: OF COURSE I DID! He hasn’t smiled once. He looks like he’s seen war. Or like he’s remembering exactly what I sound like begging for it.
Olivia: God, I love that. Was it hilarious?
Ivy: What? "Hi, I’m your boss’s coworker and I saw you naked and also now you’re watching his kid" Does that sound funny to you?
Olivia: I AM SCREAMING. Did he recognize you??
Ivy: YES. It was mutual horror.
Olivia: On a scale of 1 to total internal meltdown?
Ivy: Eleven. I need to move countries.
Olivia: Okay but be honest. Scale of 1 to "accidentally trip and land on his lap," how likely is this to happen again?
Before I can evenconsiderthat and spiral further, Penny tugs on my sleeve. "Do you wanna see the big blanket fort I made last week? It’s got lights."
I nod, swallowing whatever the hell is happening in my throat. "Absolutely."
She grabs my hand without hesitation, leading me toward her bedroom, talking the whole way about fairy lights and dragon pillows and the very serious rules of pillow fort etiquette.
And weirdly? It helps.
Because she’s light. And chaos. And honesty wrapped in tiny limbs and sparkly leggings.
Because maybe I’m not totally alone in this house of gorgeous, charming, emotionally complicated men.
Maybe Penny Brooks will keep me grounded.
For now.
CHAPTER SIX
Mitchell
Ink& Iron smells like ink, disinfectant, and cedar oil.
Comforting. Familiar. A place where things make sense.
Lines are clean. Boundaries sharp. No guesswork. No mess.
Usually.
But today?
The second I walked into Freddie’s kitchen and sawher, the world tilted.
I haven’t been able to find my footing since.
Now I’m back at the shop, pretending I’m fine, hunched over my station like muscle memory is enough to get me through the day.
Pencil in hand. Sketchpad open. Designs bleeding from my fingers in a rhythm that usually calms me.
Not today.
Not withIvy, I finally know her name now, burned behind my eyelids.
The girl from that night.
