Chapter 17 Ivy
IVY
The moment I push open the door of Neon Dagger, a local bar and restaurant favorite, my running thoughts quiet down.
It’s been way too long since I’ve been here, but the place smells the same: whiskey-soaked citrus from the signature cocktail and chili popcorn they serve with drinks.
It’s nostalgia laced with the ache of how much has changed since we spent every Friday here the year we turned twenty-one.
The neon pink dagger logo above the entrance flickers behind me, casting light over the classic black-and-white checkerboard floor and dark walls covered in art. It reflects in sticky spots where patrons have spilled their drinks and shines off the rhinestone boots of a nearby customer.
“Ives!” A familiar voice shouts.
Rio is halfway out of a booth, arms thrown wide in an unspoken invitation.
My friend’s casual shirt hangs open over a white top with a plunging neckline, his chest tattoo peeking out.
I weave through the crowd, dodging a girl in a leather corset and a guy wearing antlers, before stepping into his solid hug.
Relief rushes through me so suddenly my knees nearly give. I breathe him in, letting my armor slip. When we pull apart, his gaze drags down my Joy Division band tee, skinny jeans, and well-worn leather boots. “Hell yeah,” he observes with a smirk. “Still bringing the rock ‘n’ roll with you I see.”
In the booth, Amber and Nevaeh are curled up on the velvet bench, identical grins lighting up their faces. Ezra lounges opposite them, his black curls tucked under a beanie, a pint of Guinness in hand.
“It’s so good to see you all,” I say, sliding in beside the couple. “I know I say this every time, but it’s been too long.”
“We were starting to think you ditched us.” Nevaeh nudges my shoulder.
“The shift ran late, and I needed a shower. You would’ve hated me if I arrived without freshening up first.”
“Depends,” Ezra teases. “If you smelled bad enough, we could’ve just blamed Rio for it.”
“Hey!” Rio throws his hands up in mock offense. “I showered before coming out, thank you very much. I’m even wearing expensive cologne.”
Amber laughs. “That explains why half the bar smells like bergamot.”
“You’re welcome,” he says with a dramatic bow.
I shake my head, grinning. The tension drains from me, and for the first time in weeks, I let myself be.
I didn’t realize how much I’d missed being with my friends.
For a sweet moment, nothing outside this place exists.
The hospital, racing, the exhaustion—it all fades under the warmth of familiar voices.
The comfort of old friendships wraps around me like a worn-in leather jacket, frayed at the edges but reliable as ever.
Ezra lifts his pint toward me. “So, Ivy, how’s life in the glamorous world of double shifts and brain injuries?”
“So damn exhausting,” I reply with honesty. “But hey, at least I’ll have a longer break coming soon.”
Amber, always the quickest to pounce, narrows her eyes and twirls a strand of her fiery hair around her finger. “I can’t believe you’ve kept the news from us. Not a single word.”
“There’s nothing to share,” I protest instantly, not even considering what she means.
“Are you sure? Because we saw the list. The one with the names of who’s going to the Ice Cross World Circuit 2026. How did you not tell us?”
“Oh, that!” Heat floods my face. For a split second, I braced for her to bring up Teddy. Relief and embarrassment collide in my chest. “I thought I’d sent the group chat a message. Sorry. It still doesn’t feel real.”
“You worked harder than anyone I know to get there,” Nevaeh comments.
“Stop, you’re making me blush,” I tell her.
“But we’re so proud of you, babe. Get used to it.”
“So damn proud,” Rio echoes, raising his glass. “Our very own speed demon is about to show the world how it’s done.”
Amber’s eyes sparkle. “Let’s get you a drink so we can toast properly. This needs to be celebrated. Our girl’s going onto the Circuit!”
The whole booth erupts at once—Nevaeh claps her hands, Ezra lets out a whistle that makes the table behind us glance over, and Rio drums a victory beat against the sticky tabletop.
Amber throws her head back and gives a triumphant “woo!” loud enough to compete with the bar’s playlist. Even a stranger at the next booth lifts their beer in celebration, caught up in the infectious noise.
Their pride hits me hard, because these are the people who’ve heard about every stumble and scraped knee, every meltdown and triumph. Hearing them say I deserve this makes it real in a way that no stopwatch or qualifying round ever could.
Ezra flags down the server walking past, a woman with space buns and neon eyeliner who gives us a nod of recognition. “Your usual?” she asks.
“Double it.”
As she walks off, Ezra studies me with intensity. “Be honest, Ives. How are you doing besides getting into the Circuit? Is your work treating you well?”
The truth hovers on my tongue, but I bite it back. They already see more than I want them to. “I’m doing very well, thank you very much.”
My friend scoffs theatrically. “And I’m the next starting goalie for the Woodpeckers.”
“You’re a five-foot-nine graphic designer with a bad knee, Ez,” Rio deadpans, which earns him a middle finger.
“How about your new famous patient?” Ezra continues interrogating me. “You never replied to our texts asking if you’re taking care of Teddy.”
The name alone is enough to set off a ripple in my chest. Teddy.
I picture him in that hospital room, trying to hide his frustration behind jokes.
Guilt creeps in because I shouldn’t be thinking about him, especially outside of my shifts.
Still, the thought of him being alone while I’m out here laughing and having fun with my friends makes me ache.
Maybe it’s time to acknowledge that my steps are lighter every time I walk into his room, looking forward to his voice and presence. I’m not stupid; I know the difference between empathy and whatever else is blooming underneath it. But if it is something more, I’m not ready to name it.
My fingers tighten around the laminated drink list. “I can’t discuss work. Same rules as always.”
Amber narrows her eyes at me, reading me the way close friends do. “Wait. What was that face you just made?”
Shit. I feel the muscles in my face betray me. It’s the look I get when someone mentions something I don’t want to admit out loud. No amount of pretending to study the cocktail menu is going to hide it from Amber’s laser focus.
“I did not,” I insist, though the heat crawling up my neck gives me away.
“You totally did,” Nevaeh says, her grin sly. “You’ve got something to share, don’t you?”
“No,” I reply firmly, forcing my voice steady. “There’s nothing.”
Liar, my mind whispers. But they don’t need to know that seeing Teddy has become the best part of my work day.
The table exchanges looks, unconvinced, but mercifully they let it drop. Relief floods me, but the topic lingers like smoke in the back of my mind. We fall into a silence only people who’ve known each other before braces and basement parties can share.
The server returns and sets two tall glasses down with a wink. I raise one in answer, taking a long gulp. The taste is comforting; sweet with a citrus twist lingering on the tongue. Warmth spreads in my chest, chasing away the chill.
“From what we’ve gathered, you’ve been running yourself ragged,” Amber says gently. “Work, training, getting ready for the Circuit…do you ever stop?”
I roll the cocktail glass between my palms. “Not really. Between double shifts and qualifying, I barely have time to sleep. Making it here tonight is a miracle.”
“You need a life outside of both,” Nevaeh chimes in. “When was the last time you went on a date?”
Heat creeps up my neck at the topic. “Over two years ago. And honestly, I don’t have the time or energy for it. The last thing I need is another broken fuckboy who thinks my job as a nurse is a kink and my schedule is flexible.”
That earns a round of laughter from the table, but Rio shakes his head knowingly. “You deserve more than crumbs, Ives.”
The words settle under my skin, warm and cutting all at once.
Because he’s right. I really do. I have to remember how the last time I tried dating, it nearly wrecked me.
My last cautionary tale came into my life with charm and sad eyes two and half years ago.
At first, I told myself that he’d get back on his feet with time and my affection.
Somewhere along the way, his chaos became my responsibility, sucking all my energy.
I learned that you can hold someone together for a while, but you can’t step into a storm just to keep them dry.
I take another sip and let the burn chase away unnecessary memories before they can dig in too deep. A guitarist starts tuning onstage, lights flickering overhead. Nevaeh bumps my arm. “All of this comes from a place of love. We want you to be happy, Ives. You’re just working and training so hard.”
“I appreciate the concern and love you all, too,” I say sincerely.
“Love you,” Amber clinks her glass to mine. “No more talk about complicated stuff. Only banter between friends and Ezra finally confessing he’s in love with the pink-haired woman from work he kissed at the office holiday party a few weeks ago.”
“Hey!” he protests. “What I told you about her was after all the tequila shots. You can’t hold it against me.”
We dissolve into laughter, real and unfiltered.
For the next few hours, we get drunk on freedom and cheap cocktails, demolishing bowls of chili popcorn while listening to live music and chatting.
I throw my head back laughing at Rio’s stupid jokes, sing off-key with Amber, and clap when Ezra pretends to drum on the table.
It feels like we’re twenty-one again, reckless and invincible.
It’s midnight by the time we spill out into the cold. The wind is biting and my eyes water.
“Travel safe,” Amber calls out as she loops her arm through Nevaeh’s.
“Text when you get in,” Ezra adds.
Rio hugs me, longer this time. “Promise me something?”
“That depends,” I tell him with a nervous smile.
“Promise you’ll take care of yourself. Not just your patients.”
I’m touched by the concern. “I promise.”
He lets me go with a tight smile and a muttered “good.” Jogging after the others, he nearly falls down on a patch of ice.
Walking the few blocks to the nearest station, my heart is full from the night out.
These people knew me long before trauma cases, sleepless shifts, and secondhand grief wore down parts I’m still trying to reclaim.
They see the real me—not Nurse Campbell, not Racer Ivy, not whichever version I’m struggling to hold together any given day. And God, I love them for it.
The sting in my eyes has nothing to do with the wind.
It’s gratitude, sharp and overwhelming. I forget, sometimes, that I’m allowed to be this version of myself—a messy and loud woman who loves laughing too hard with her friends.
Not responsible for saving anyone. Just a girl in her late twenties who loves wearing something else than scrubs or workout gear while listening to live music.
I wish we had more nights where nothing mattered except glitter-rimmed cocktails and the safety of being surrounded by people who have witnessed life’s worst moments and stayed.
But life’s not built that way anymore. My schedule is hectic, their lives are full, and every time I blink, another month has slipped by.
Still, I make myself another quiet promise: I won’t let too much time pass again. Not with the ones who remind me who I am. Because in a world asking so much from me, they’re the rare kind of magic I never want to lose.