Chapter 16 - Ivy
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ivy
I’m pretty sure I’ve been hit by a truck.
Or maybe a very large, emotional freight train.
Either way, my head feels like it’s being slowly squeezed by a vice, and my stomach has decided to turn itself inside out.
Waffles.
For Penny.
This is why I’m standing here in the kitchen, staring down at these waffles like they’ve personally offended me.
I don’t think I’ve ever hated waffles before.
This is new.
But I swallow the nausea and pretend I’m okay, because she is still in the other room, humming her little tune as she arranges her perfect little plate of breakfast. She doesn’t need to see me crumble.
Not now, at least.
I take a breath, look at the waffles again, and, somehow, force myself to take a bite. It’s as if I can’t even feel it in my mouth, just a faint, tasteless reminder of how messed up everything has gotten. And that’s exactly the problem.
Everything is messed up.
I grab my phone, mostly to distract myself. I’m not sure why I’m even checking it. But then I see it. A message from Timothy. The man who’s been haunting my every waking thought for the last couple of weeks.
Well, one of them anyway!
Timothy: Any chance we could meet? I think we have a lot to talk about.
I know we have a lot to talk about, but that doesn’t make me any less anxious.
With a bit of luck, the anticipation will be worse than the actual chat…
Ivy: Yeah. After I finish work. Around seven?
Timothy: Okay. Just tell me where.
Ivy: The Lookout Trail?
Timothy: Sounds good. See you then.
Penny’s voice breaks through my spiral.
"Ivy, I’m hungry! Can we eat waffles now?"
I snap out of my thoughts, forcing a smile. "Okay, kiddo, waffles are coming right up."
She shuffles into the kitchen in her little dinosaur print pajamas, all ready for bed. Her messy curls stick out in all directions like she’s just had a one woman wrestling match with all her stuffed toys.
Knowing Penny, she probably did.
"You wanna eat the waffles with me?" I ask, trying to get my brain to focus on something, anything, that doesn’t make my chest feel tight.
She beams up at me, her face lighting up like I’ve just offered her a goldmine.
"Yes! With syrup! I like it when it’s all sticky!" she announces with all the authority of someone who knows exactly what she wants.
I laugh, despite myself. "Yeah, I figured you did. All sticky, huh?"
She nods seriously, then grabs her plate and sets it on the table with a little dramatic flourish. "I’m a big girl," she says proudly, her tiny voice full of self assurance as she climbs into her chair like it’s the throne of a queen.
I hand her a perfectly stacked waffle, and she digs into it with her usual enthusiasm, face smothered in syrup within seconds.
"Yummy! Best waffles ever!" she says around a mouthful, giving me a syrupy grin that makes my heart squeeze.
I smile at her, feeling a little more grounded in the moment. She doesn’t need to know how much I’m unraveling inside. All she needs is for me to be here, to make her supper, to laugh at her silly stories about her stuffed animals fighting evil robots.
"Glad you like them, kiddo," I say, feeling a flicker of normalcy.
I go back to cleaning up the kitchen, trying to put my scattered thoughts back together, but the sound of the door opening pulls my attention away.
Freddie’s home.
"Hey."
Uh oh, I can already hear the strain in his tone.
I turn, catching sight of him standing in the doorway, his face drawn, like he’s been carrying something heavy all day. He doesn't seem like himself, not the Freddie I know who can crack a joke any time.
"Hey," I say, putting the dish towel down and walking over to him. "You okay?"
He doesn’t immediately answer. His eyes flicker to me, but there’s a heaviness there, something I can’t quite place. Then he sighs, rubbing his hand across his face like he’s trying to rub away the weight of the world.
"Yeah," he mutters, but it’s flat, too flat. "Just tired."
I don’t believe him. I reach out, putting my hand lightly on his arm. "Freddie... what’s going on?"
He glances down at my hand, then back to me. There’s a moment of silence before he shrugs. "It’s nothing. Just work stuff."
I feel that familiar knot in my stomach, like I’m trying to get closer to something, but it keeps slipping through my fingers. I had the chance to talk to him yesterday, and I didn’t. I ran off, scared.
I regret it now that he’s icing me out.
I watch him, feeling the weight of his silence settle over me like a cloud that refuses to clear. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something that’s not nothing, but I can’t quite pin it down. Frustration? Worry? Anger? I can’t tell. All I know is it’s there, and I can’t reach it.
"Freddie…" I start again, trying to catch his attention, to get through whatever wall he’s put up today. But he’s already looking away, turning toward the living room as if the conversation is over.
"I’m sure you have to be getting home," he mutters, almost to himself.
It stings, but I swallow the hurt.
He’s shutting me out. And that’s what it feels like, a door closing in my face, one that I didn’t even know was there until it was too late. My hand still lingers where I’d touched his arm, and I feel foolish for trying to pull him back when all he wants is space.
"Right. Yes, I will… get going then," I say, the words tasting like defeat.
Penny’s still at the table, completely unaware of the tension hanging between the adults in the room. She’s busy with her waffles, syrup smeared across her face and hands, a big grin lighting up her eyes.
But for me, the room feels heavy now. It’s like I’m standing on one side of a window, looking in at a life that’s slowly slipping away from me. I hate it. But more than that, I hate that I don’t know how to fix it.
I glance at the clock.
Seven o'clock. I should get going. I can’t stay here much longer, not with the mess that’s brewing under the surface between Freddie and me. Not when I’m desperate for some kind of clarity, even if I don’t know what it looks like yet.
So, I say my goodbyes, even if they feel like ash on my tongue, and I make my way outside.
The thought of what’s coming makes my stomach lurch again.
I make my way to the meeting spot, my heart pounding.
When I see Timothy waiting there, leaning casually against a post, I feel a strange mix of relief and dread. He’s just standing there, looking effortlessly calm. There’s something about him, something steady, that almost makes me want to fall apart.
"You okay?" he asks when I approach, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s picking up on my nerves.
"I will be," I say, my voice too tight.
He offers me a small smile. "Let’s take a walk. Might help clear your head."
It’s a quiet evening, the sun starting to dip below the horizon, turning the sky into a watercolor of soft purples and pinks. The air’s chilly, but the pace of the walk is soothing.
Especially since we’re not talking about anything deep yet.
"...so that’s Sunridge Ranch. Kinda like a retreat here, I suppose."
I gasp. "Wow, it looks like a postcard. All rustic buildings and sprawling land. I love it."
Actually, a lot of Coyote Glen is like that. Peaceful in a way I wasn’t expecting. It’s just me that’s chaos here…
He smiles at me, nodding. "Yeah, it’s pretty nice. Makes you appreciate the quiet."
We walk for a while, the silence between us stretching out in a comfortable way. But it’s not long before I feel the weight of the conversation hanging there, waiting to be had. Finally, Timothy breaks it.
"So, I wanted to talk to you about something. I think we need to clear the air… about everything. About us."
I stop walking, the words striking me like a jolt of electricity. He’s clearly been waiting for me to say something, to acknowledge it, but the weight of his words hits me harder than I expected.
"What do we need to clear the air about exactly?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, but my chest is already tightening.
I know what’s coming, but I don’t know how to process it.
Timothy stops too, glancing at me with an expression that’s almost… apologetic?
"I know things have been confusing between all of us. I don’t know if you’ve figured it out, but... well, we’ve all developed feelings for you, Ivy. All three of us."
I freeze. I mean, I literally stop breathing for a second.
What did he just say?
My brain scrambles to make sense of the words. All three of us.
"What? All of you?" My voice comes out higher than I meant it to, laced with disbelief. Probably panic too.
He nods slowly, and I swear I feel the world tilt just a little.
His gaze is calm, but it only makes the chaos in my chest feel louder.
How could I have missed this? I thought I was confused… but I assumed it was just me stuck in this whirlwind.
Not them. Not all of them.
I can’t tell if I want to laugh or cry or maybe run into the woods and scream.
"But Mitchell…" I begin, grasping at the one name that makes the least sense, “He’s been so cold. He’s barely talked to me since that night. I thought maybe I did something wrong.”
Because that’s what I do, blame myself when things get weird. When people pull away.
It’s easier to carry the guilt than to imagine it’s something deeper and more complicated.
Timothy exhales, the sound soft. "Yeah. That’s how he is. Mitchell doesn’t do well with emotions. He shuts down. But don’t take it personally. He’s not like Freddie or me. He handles things... differently."
Differently is one way to put it.
Mitchell practically disappeared after that night. Not a text. Not a glance. Just silence.
And now I’m supposed to believe that he cares? That he feels something and just… swallowed it whole?
My heart feels like it’s cracking open in slow motion.
"And Freddie?" I ask, quieter this time, like saying his name might summon a storm I’m not ready for. "He’s been distant too. And we barely talked this morning. I thought... I thought we were good."
Timothy looks uncomfortable now, rubbing the back of his neck. "Freddie’s been... on edge. We’ve been arguing because we don’t know how to handle any of this."
Wait, arguing?
"You guys have been fighting because of me?"
There it is. That ugly twist in my gut. The shame. The dread. I hate this.
"Yeah," Timothy admits, and it’s like someone’s dropped a stone straight into my stomach. "It’s complicated, Ivy."
Yeah, no kidding.
I want to scream at the sky. Or maybe scream at all of them. Or maybe just… curl up somewhere no one can find me until I figure out what the hell I feel.
Because this isn’t some teenage love triangle.
It’s a tangle of friendships, loyalties, unspoken moments, and unsent messages.
And now I’m standing in the middle of it all, with no clue how to move forward without breaking something.
Or someone.
Timothy's still talking, his voice gentle. "Of course, you know I really like you."
And suddenly I feel like I can’t breathe again.
This was supposed to be a walk. A way to clear my head.
But now the fog’s thicker than ever.
"I can’t believe this," I whisper, more to myself than to him. "I didn’t know any of this was happening behind my back. I thought… I thought I was the one who was confused."
I was confused.
I still am.
What the hell happens now?
Thank God Olivia is coming soon. I need my best friend now more than ever. I mean, who else can I talk about this with? I only know my brother and he would kill me… all of us.