Chapter 14 Ivy
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ivy
If I ever write a memoir, the title’s going to be Blown Whistle, Shattered Soul: One Woman’s Descent into Small Town Chaos.
Subtitle: Send Snacks.
Penny has been in full chaos mode since I got here when she jumped on me and whispered, "We have a lot to do today, Coach Ivy," directly into my eyeball.
She’s currently wearing one of Freddie’s flannels like a cape and has turned a paper towel roll into what I assume is a magic staff… or maybe a microphone? Hard to say.
Every five minutes she yells "Ready, set, GOOOOO!" and sprints from one end of the living room to the other, usually tripping over the dog or stopping mid run to sing a made up song about juice.
I, meanwhile, am one emotional fray away from total meltdown.
I’ve barely slept because of the mess in my head. The feelings still buzzing under my skin.
Mitchell.
Freddie.
Timothy.
What am I playing at?
I’ve been with Luca for so long, been neglected, that I’ve jumped on any affection that’s come my way. I’ve got swept up in any desire I’ve felt.
With Mitchell it was anonymous, sexy, fun…
With Freddie, the danger caught me and got me going…
And now Timothy…
Urgh, what a mess.
Penny climbs onto the couch next to me and boops my nose with her finger. "Tag! You a cow now!"
"…Excuse me?"
"You go moo," she says seriously. "Cows go moo. You moo now."
"Hard pass."
She blinks. "You won’t moo?"
"I really don’t want to moo."
She considers this like it’s a moral failing. "Okay. You baby cow. Baby cows go 'mewmewmew.’"
I fake a mewmewmew and she beams like I’ve just aced a performance review.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table.
I swipe it up with the desperation of someone hoping for a distraction from both emotional confusion and barnyard roleplay.
Olivia: Can you clear your schedule Friday? I’m passing through Coyote Glen. I require cocktails and best friend time. Urgently.
YES.
YES YES YES.
She said she’d visit, but she’s always so busy with work I didn’t know it’d actually happen.
And this could not have come at a better time.
Ivy: YES. I would clear the whole county if necessary. You, me, alcohol, judgment. Let’s go.
Olivia: I’ll be there around 3. Prepare the emotional trenches and the good snacks.
She sends a gif of Leslie Knope saying "Buckle up, buttercup" and I laugh harder than I have in days. Like, real laughter. Not the weird nasal exhale I’ve been doing to pretend I’m coping.
I miss her.
Olivia’s always been the person who can look at me and see everything. The good, the wrecked, the deeply repressed… and somehow not run screaming.
I need her brand of brutal honesty and color coded emotional charts. I need someone who isn’t tied to this town and this mess, who can tell me whether I’ve lost my mind… or just finally cracked it open.
I need Olivia like a woman needs dry shampoo and plausible deniability.
I toss my phone aside and sigh. Penny climbs halfway into my lap and pokes my cheek. "You sad?"
"No," I lie. "Just tired."
She considers me, eyes wide and a little sticky from some dried applesauce incident I didn’t fully clock earlier. Then she pats my boob with all the solemnity of a tiny priest offering a benediction. "You need a walk."
She’s not wrong.
Ten minutes later, she’s bundled into her unicorn hoodie, clinging to her sippy cup like it holds state secrets, and we’re walking down Main Street. She keeps up a nonstop commentary about birds, clouds, and a rock that "looks like a sandwich." I nod like I’m taking detailed notes.
The air smells like pine and spring and the faint ghost of someone grilling something two streets over. It should be calming. It should help. It doesn’t.
It doesn’t take long until we get near the fire station, where my brother is leaning up against the bay doors with his friends.
"UNCLE JEEEEESSEEEE!"
Penny takes off like a tiny missile, rain boots thudding, arms pumping like a cartoon character in fast forward.
"Wait, Penny…!"
Too late. She’s already halfway across the grass and launching herself into Jesse’s arms like a sugar high cannonball.
He catches her with practiced ease and grins. "Hey! There’s my favorite lil’ monkey."
"You see my unicorn hoodie?" she demands, pulling the hood up over her head and immediately tripping on her own feet. "I run so fast now."
"She does," I say, catching up, trying to sound normal and not like someone caught trespassing inside their own disaster.
Jesse smirks at me.
"You look tired," he says.
"I am tired," I shoot back, cocking a brow. I should make a joke about him being shattered since he’s never at home. Always at Vanessa’s…
But I don’t.
Because the last thing I need is him noticing things about me too.
Penny’s now halfway through an interpretive dance slash ninja battle on the sidewalk, her unicorn hood flapping dramatically.
Karl tips his head toward her. "She’s clearly thriving. That’s a solid spin kick."
"She’s training for toddler Fight Club," I say dryly. "First rule is nobody naps."
That gets a chuckle from Jesse and a laugh from Karl. For a minute, it feels good. Like old times. Like before I turned into the kind of person who fools around with my boss, and the Everett twins…
Oh no.
Leo sips his coffee. "You settling in okay? Jesse’s place treating you right?"
I nod. "Yeah. I mean, the floor creaks like it’s trying to communicate from the afterlife, but otherwise, all good."
Jesse bumps my shoulder lightly. "Told you you’d like it here."
"You did," I admit. "You’ve been right about… a few things lately."
His eyebrows rise. "Only a few?"
"I don’t want it going to your head."
Karl grins and leans back against the doorframe. "Well, good to hear the Fletcher name isn’t causing too much scandal these days."
I freeze.
Just a fraction. A heart beat’s worth of stillness. But it hits.
Is he just teasing… or has he heard something? I don’t know how intense Coyote Glen gossip is…
I laugh it off as best I can. "Give it time. I haven’t even joined the neighborhood Facebook group yet."
Jesse snorts. "Don’t. That place is a hellscape."
But the moment sticks. It slides under my skin like a burr and stays there, scratching at my nerves.
I glance at Jesse, my very protective brother, who helped me get out of the mess I was in. Who immediately offered me a place to be after everything went to hell with Luca. Who never once said "I told you so" or "You should’ve left sooner."
Just gave me a new start.
He’s trying to help me rebuild.
And I’m… what? Out here, playing spin the bottle with the Ink & Iron boys?
If he finds out what I’ve done, what I’ve been doing, I don’t know if he’d be mad… or just disappointed. Which is somehow worse.
I smile too brightly and bend to fix Penny’s hoodie, even though it’s not really out of place.
"Okay, wild child," I say. "We need to let the firefighters get back to being heroic, okay?"
"But I not finish my cartwheels!" Penny protests.
"You can show Uncle Jesse later," I promise. "Right now, I’m pretty sure Karl has to go save a kitten or something."
Karl plays along. "Or wrestle a raccoon out of a laundry chute. It’s a very glamorous job."
Penny looks skeptical but allows herself to be wrangled.
We say our goodbyes and make a move.
And as soon as we’re out of view, I feel it all settle in my chest again. The weight of everything I haven’t said. The tangled mess of things I can’t explain.
I came here for a clean slate.
But maybe all I’ve done is become the chaos…
When we get back to the house, Penny seems to sense the shift in me.
Maybe it's the way I flop onto the couch like my bones have dissolved. Maybe toddlers just have that unnerving sixth sense where they can smell a broken adult from three blocks away.
She climbs up beside me, dragging her sippy cup and a mismatched pile of stuffed animals behind her like a traveling circus. Then she goes quiet. That alone is suspicious.
After a beat, she says, very softly, "You can have my blankie if you’re sad."
I blink.
She’s holding it out like it’s the crown jewels… her beloved, slightly crusty unicorn blanket that smells like strawberries and childhood. She’s offering it without hesitation. Just in case it’ll make me feel better.
Man, this kid.
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to anchor myself, because if I let the emotion crest, I’ll cry. And I can’t cry. Not now. Not when Penny is looking at me like she could fix it all with a security blanket and a juice box.
"I’m okay, Pen," I manage, voice thick. "But that’s really sweet."
She shrugs, already distracted, then flops over and rests her head on my lap. "Sometimes I get sad too. I just watch a bug or eat cheese."
"Solid coping strategy," I murmur, brushing her hair out of her face.
She closes her eyes like she’s solved the world’s problems. And I sit there, rooted in place, guilt hitting me square in the sternum.
Because this is what I should be focused on.
Not the triple-headed hydra of romantic entanglement I’ve somehow managed to summon.
Not the dizzying thrill of stolen kisses or the way Timothy made me laugh like I mattered. Not Mitchell’s smolder or Freddie’s cheeky intensity. Not the attention or the tension or the twisted knot of confusion tying itself tighter every time I let something happen.
This.
This little girl who trusts me enough to offer her blankie. Who calls me Coach Ivy and pats my boob like she’s blessing me. Who is watching me more closely than I realized.
She needs me to be stable. To be present. To not burn down this temporary haven with my bad decisions and impulse control issues.
I rub my hands over my face.
What the hell am I doing?
The front door opens a minute later, and I sit up straighter, like I haven’t just been spiraling on the couch like a woman in a daytime soap.
Freddie walks in, keys in hand, hair wind mussed and jaw tight. He looks tired. And tense.
He stops when he sees me on the couch, Penny curled up beside me. There’s a flicker of something in his expression, warmth maybe, or gratitude, but it’s chased off quick by something stormier.
"You okay?" he asks, nodding toward me as he toes off his boots.
"Yeah," I lie. "Just hanging out."
Freddie sets his keys in the little bowl by the door and shrugs off his jacket, movements stiff.
"Thanks for staying late," he says, voice flat. "Didn’t realize my day would run that long."
"No problem," I say, too quickly. "She wore me out, but she was a delight."
He nods, distracted, rubbing the back of his neck as he heads into the kitchen. There’s something about the way his shoulders are set that makes the breath catch in my throat. I can feel it coming, like thunder just under the clouds.
I follow him before I can talk myself out of it.
"You seem... off," I say quietly, hovering in the kitchen doorway as he opens the fridge and stares into it like it owes him answers. "Everything okay?"
He huffs a breath, not looking at me. "Just tired."
It’s not a lie. But it’s not the truth either. There’s a charge in the room now, something brittle and sharp around the edges. I press forward anyway.
"Freddie," I say gently. "Did something happen?"
He doesn’t answer at first. Just grabs a beer, twists the cap off, and sets it down on the counter with a clink. Then he leans against the counter and finally looks at me.
His eyes are tired. Guarded. And something else. Hurt, maybe. Or betrayed.
"I had it out with Mitchell and Timothy today," he says, voice quiet but heavy. "At the shop."
My stomach dips. "Oh."
"Yeah." He laughs once, humorless. "Guess it was a long time coming, honestly. We’ve been off for a while. But today just… tipped it."
The air goes thin between us. I feel myself curling in, instinctively bracing.
"What happened?" I ask, though I already know.
Freddie just watches me for a moment. His jaw ticks. His mouth presses into a line. He looks like he’s weighing something behind his eyes… like whatever he’s holding back is heavy and personal and sharp around the edges.
When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. Controlled. "Things came to a head, that’s all. Long time coming."
It’s vague. Purposefully so. But the way his eyes flick to me, then away again, the way something flickers in them, hurt or resentment or just exhaustion, makes the hairs on my neck stand up.
My stomach drops.
I don’t press. I don’t have to. The tension in his shoulders, the way he won’t quite meet my gaze… it says enough. It says everything.
This is about me.
They all know about me.
The realization hits like a cold wave. And for a second, I can’t breathe.
I clear my throat, force a tight smile. "Right. Well. I should… I should get out of your hair."
Freddie’s brow furrows. "Ivy…"
"No, it’s fine," I say too quickly. I scoop up my bag like it might explode if I don’t handle it gently.
As I bypass Penny, she blinks up at me from where she’s curled in a blanket, eyes still glued to the TV. "You’re leaving?"
"Yeah, kiddo. I’ve got some stuff to do." My voice sounds light, but it feels like it’s coming from somewhere very far away. "Thanks for letting me hog the couch."
Penny frowns a little, then gives a small wave. "Bye, Ivy."
"Bye, munchkin."
Freddie is watching me, tense. "Ivy…"
"Seriously. It’s fine." The words come out too fast. I move toward the door like it’s a lifeline. "See you in the morning."
"Ivy, wait a sec…"
But I’m already pulling the door open, already stepping outside.
If I stay, I’ll say something I can’t take back. Or worse, something too real. Something I’m not ready to admit, even to myself.
The door shuts behind me, and the cool night air hits like a slap.
I walk fast.
Too fast.
Like I can outrun the heat in my face, the lump tightening in my throat, the panic curling in my gut.
Like if I keep moving, none of it, Freddie’s words, his silence, the fracture I’ve caused, can catch me.
And right now, that’s all I can do.
Just keep moving.