Page 34 of Ink Me Three Times
"Everyone knows everything here," I add, swirling my fork in the rice. "Jesse says it’s ‘small town warmth.’ I say it’s community sanctioned stalking."
He chuckles. "You get used to it."
I hesitate for a second, then say, "Honestly? It’s better than I expected. I thought I’d last a week before screaming into a pillow and running for the hills."
"And now?"
I look down at my food, then back at him. "I haven’t screamed. Yet."
"Progress," he says, gently. "And it’s better than where you were before, right? Jesse mentioned you were coming off a breakup."
I glance up sharply.
"He didn’t say much," Freddie adds quickly. "Just that you’d had a rough go of it."
"Of course he did." I sigh and set my fork down. "Jesse’s so protective."
Freddie gives me a curious look but doesn’t push.
And for some reason, maybe because of the food or the lighting or the way he’s looking at me like he actually wants to hear it, I say, "His name was Luca."
Freddie doesn’t react. Just listens.
"We were together for four years," I continue. "Off and on. Mostly on. The kind of relationship where you keep thinking,This could work. If I just try a little harder.And then it doesn’t. But you still stay."
Freddie nods slowly. "Yeah. I know that one."
"He was in a band," I say, rolling my eyes. "A reallyseriousone. Wrote songs about women he used to date, and once, I think, about a particularly emotional quesadilla. He said he wanted a future with me, but it always came with a disclaimer. Not now. Later. When things settled. When he figured himself out."
"And you waited."
"Too long," I admit. "I became this… emotional placeholder. Like,here, hold all my stuff while I go chase who I think I am."
Freddie’s jaw tics, just slightly. "He sounds like an ass."
"Oh, he was very pretty while being one," I say with a bitter smile. "He could say sorry with a guitar riff and make you believe it."
"And then?"
"He left. For someone younger. Blonder. Sweeter, probably."
Freddie snorts. "Brutal."
"Yeah. It sucked. Not just the breakup. The unraveling. The way I realized I’d wrapped my entire self around him like ivy on a crumbling wall." I laugh without humor. "And the worst part? People kept calling me resilient. Like I was some warrior goddess in cute boots."
"That word," he murmurs, and it’s not just agreement, it’s something low and rough in his voice that makes my stomach dip. "I hate that word."
"It’s a nice way of saying you survived something terrible and we don’t know what to do with your sadness, so here’s a pat on the back and a vague compliment."
"Yeah," he says, glancing at me. "Exactly that."
His gaze lingers a beat too long. And when I meet it, something catches between us.
And then, out of nowhere, he says, "You ever feel like you’re just faking it? Like you’re two steps behind and everyone else got the manual you somehow missed?"
I blink. That hits harder than I expect. And the way he’s looking at me, like heknowssomething about the way I keep it together with duct tape and denial, makes it worse.
"Every day," I say, picking at my food. "Especially at the moment."
