Page 171 of Ink Me Three Times
“Shit,” I mutter, tossing aside a pile of clothes, still not finding it. “Where the hell is the bag? We had it packed, didn’t we?”
Ivy looks at me, pale but determined, her face tight with pain. “Timothy, it’s in the closet, left side. Just... hurry.”
“Right, right.”
I finally yank the bag out from under a jacket, practically throwing everything inside it as I stuff it into the car.
I can’t focus. My mind keeps circling back to one thing: this moment. The moment our lives completely shift.
Mitchell is in the kitchen, muttering curses as he rattles the keys in the bowl on the counter. He’s trying to hold it together,but I can tell, his jaw is tight, his shoulders stiff. He hates feeling out of control, and right now, he's about as far from in control as possible.
“Mitchell,” I say, walking over, grabbing the keys from his hand. “Stop. I’ve got it. Get Ivy settled in the car.”
He barely nods but follows through, his green eyes sharp, trying to mask the anxiety he's clearly struggling with.
I walk to the living room, where Ivy is sitting on the couch, her breathing shallow and fast. She’s clearly in pain, but she’s still trying to keep it together, the same way she always does. It’s both maddening and inspiring.
“You good?” I ask, kneeling down beside her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
She nods but winces as another contraction hits. “No. But... I will be.”
I smile, but it's tight. "You're tough, Ivy. You're more than ready for this."
Her lips curve upward, though it’s weak. “I hope you're right.”
Just as I stand to help her up, Freddie comes into the room, his face pale but his movements steady. He’s a rock, his calm energy somehow grounding all of us.
“Okay, the sitter is here. You ready to go?” he asks Ivy, his voice low but steady.
“Yeah,” she says, sucking in a sharp breath. “Let’s get this over with.”
Freddie wraps his arm around her shoulders, helping her stand as I grab the bag and Mitchell rushes to the door. The three of us make our way to the car, and I’m still stuck in the fog of what’s happening. This... this isn’t just a trip to the hospital. This is the beginning of everything changing. Forever.
Once we’re in the car, things go by in a blur. I can barely focus on the road, on the sounds of Ivy’s labored breathing, on Mitchell’s quiet muttering as he checks the rearview mirror.
We could be moving at a hundred miles an hour, even though I know we’re going way too slow.
Halfway there, Ivy grips my hand so tightly I’m worried she’s going to break my bones. She’s sweating, her face flushed, and I can see the sheer willpower in her eyes as she fights through the pain.
"Keep breathing, Ivy," I say softly, my voice strained with the emotion I’m trying to hold back. "You’re doing amazing."
She doesn’t respond, but I can tell by the way she holds my hand that she’s still with me. Still strong.
The drive seems to take forever, and when we finally pull into the hospital parking lot, I might be the one about to collapse, not her. But somehow, she’s the one who pulls herself together the quickest.
“Come on,” I say, helping her out of the car. “We’re almost there.”
Mitchell’s right behind us, and Freddie leads the way into the hospital, looking almost too calm as he guides Ivy toward the entrance. I glance back at the car, expecting Jesse’s truck to be somewhere in the lot, but it’s not.
Right as I’m about to ask, my phone buzzes with a text.
Jesse: Good luck. I’m rooting for you all.
I don’t reply. The words are enough, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. Jesse, for all his gruffness and distance, is still here in his own way. It means more than I’ll ever let on.
I slip the phone back into my pocket as we make our way into the hospital, the smell of antiseptic and sterile surfaces filling my nose. Ivy’s breaths are quicker now, more erratic. The whole damn place is a whirlwind, and I just want to get her settled somewhere safe, somewhere she can breathe.
By the time we get to the delivery room, I’ve got Ivy propped up in bed, her hand gripping mine as if it’s the only thing holding her to this world.
