Chapter 17 - Freddie
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Freddie
Another shift down, and I’m drained.
The shop’s dead quiet, the hum of the tattoo machines and the clink of metal tools the only sounds breaking the silence.
Mitchell’s not speaking to me, and Timothy’s got that distant look in his eyes, like he’s thinking about anything but what’s happening between us.
The tension’s thicker than the smoke in the air, and I’ve had enough of it.
It’s been a long fucking week of this shit.
I don’t know how we’re ever going to pull out of it.
I toss a rag into the bin, wiping the last of the ink off my hands, feeling like I’m washing off more than just the work of the day. I don’t know what the hell to do anymore. I’m stuck. And the last thing I want to do is go home.
I just need some time before I can be the father Penny needs me to be.
I pull out my phone, staring at it for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The last thing I need is to be alone tonight. The thought of it makes my stomach twist.
I type out a text to Ivy, just a quick one. She’ll probably say no, but it’s worth a shot.
Freddie: Hey, can you stay late with Penny tonight? I have some stuff I need to do.
I press send before I can overthink it.
The seconds drag on as I wait, tapping my foot against the floor, my mind racing.
I don’t know what I expect from this. Maybe a little peace, maybe the distraction of seeing someone else besides the guys. I just need some air.
Finally, my phone buzzes.
Ivy: Of course. I’ll stay with her. You okay?
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. At least that’s one thing off my mind.
Freddie: Yeah, I won’t be too late.
I pocket my phone, exhaling slowly. It’s like a weight’s lifted just knowing Ivy’s got it covered with Penny. I don’t have to pretend everything’s fine when it’s clearly anything but.
I grab my jacket and head for the door, the cold air outside biting at my skin. The walk to The Hollow isn’t far, but the weight of my steps feels heavier than usual. The walk is supposed to clear my head, but it just gives me more time to stew over everything.
The guys. Ivy. The shitshow I’m dragging myself through without a clear way out.
I need a drink.
The Hollow is busy as always, a mix of town regulars and a few new faces who come for the weekend. Arlo’s behind the bar, already pouring a whiskey for someone, his poker face as solid as ever.
He’s the kind of guy who knows everything but says nothing, unless you catch him on a slow night, and tonight’s far from slow.
I slip onto a barstool, the wood cool against the backs of my legs. Arlo eyes me, his face flickering with the faintest trace of concern before he turns away to grab the bottle.
"Bad day?" Arlo asks, voice low enough that only I can hear.
"Same shit, different day." I rub a hand over my face, a little too worn out for my own good. "I just need a drink. Make it strong."
He nods without saying anything more, already grabbing a glass. Within seconds, the amber liquid sits in front of me. I don’t even hesitate before taking a sip.
The burn isn’t enough to clear my mind, but it helps. I let the warmth settle in my chest, trying to ignore the gnawing tension in my gut
I settle into the familiar rhythm of the bar, letting the noise of the room swirl around me as I take another sip. For a second, I almost feel like myself again, the weight of the day’s mess lifting a little. The drink helps, but it’s not going to fix the shit I’m in.
Then I hear it. Loud, unmistakable, and rapidly approaching.
"Freddie!" Jesse’s voice booms across the room before I even see him.
I glance up, just in time to see him swaggering toward me, already a couple of drinks deep and clearly in the middle of some rant. His face is flushed from the alcohol, his movements a little exaggerated as he plops down beside me.
"Man, you would not believe the fire department’s fantasy football league this year," he starts, launching into his tirade without waiting for an invitation.
"Half the guys are picking players like they're drafting for a Super Bowl team, but most of ‘em can’t even remember to take the trash out, let alone track their fantasy stats! "
I snort, taking a sip of my drink. Jesse’s rants are one of the few things in this town that can still make me laugh, even when I don’t feel like it.
So I let him talk, happy to just tune out everything else for a moment.
I’ll listen, even if I’m not fully hearing it.
He needs to get this off his chest, and I need to not think about anything for a while.
He keeps going, arms flailing like he’s conducting a symphony of frustrations, voice rising with each new complaint.
There’s a strange comfort in hearing him go off about the small things, stuff that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but somehow, it feels real.
It feels like the Jesse I’ve always known.
But then, just as I’m starting to relax, he pivots. I don’t know why, but the change in his tone feels like a needle sliding into the balloon of calm I’ve managed to inflate.
"So, how’s everything going with Ivy?" Jesse asks, his voice suddenly quieter, more probing than usual. "She doing good? Working with you and everything?"
I freeze for a moment, my fingers tightening around my glass. "Erm, yeah she’s doing good. Penny loves her, of course."
"Yeah, well good." He nods. "She needs something good to focus on after everything she’s been through."
I say nothing.
I think my throat might have closed over.
"You know, with him."
Jesse mentioned a dirt bag ex before Ivy came here, before I gave her the job. I guess I haven’t exactly been thinking about that recently.
I force a smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. "She’s fine, Jess. She’s tough. You know that."
"I don’t know, Freddie," he says, his voice thick with concern, his gaze unwavering. "I thought bringing her here would be a good idea. But you know what Coyote Glen is like. Rumors all over the place. Including rumors about you."
Shit.
My heart sinks.
I try to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I'm already spiraling. The word rumors hangs in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest as Jesse watches me, his gaze intense, searching. It’s like he’s dissecting every little thing I do, every way I react, waiting for a crack to appear.
"Rumors?" I repeat, trying to keep my voice steady. My throat feels dry. "What rumors?"
Jesse doesn't hesitate. His lips twist into a grimace. "About you and Ivy. About how close you two are. Hell, people are saying stuff about you two together... like, together together."
I swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me.
The idea that people are talking, making assumptions about me and Ivy, makes my skin crawl. This is the last thing I need, especially with everything already hanging by a thread.
"Look, Jess," I start, trying to sound calm, trying to reassure him like everything’s fine. "It's not like that. We’re just friends, man. She’s helping me with Penny, that’s all. And you know how people here like to gossip. It’s all bullshit."
Jesse doesn’t seem convinced. His eyes narrow, studying me with a sharpness I’m not used to.
"You’re my best friend and everything, Fred, but I’m still worried about her."
I can feel my chest tightening as panic starts to rise within me. I want to shake it off. Tell him not to listen to rumors. But the truth is, I can't ignore what he's saying. I can’t brush off the reality that this is a risk. That everything could go horribly wrong.
I can already see it.
Ivy, torn between us… Mitchell, Timothy, and me. Hell, we’re already fighting, and nothing has even happened yet. Not anything permanent anyway.
And Penny, man, Penny. She deserves to feel safe, to feel loved, without the mess of our shit hanging over her head.
And the town... They don’t understand. They never will.