Chapter 25 Mitchell
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Mitchell
Day two, and I’m already feeling like I’m running on empty.
This should be my thing.
Tattoo conventions are supposed to be where I shine.
Show off my work, talk to people who actually get it, maybe land a deal or win some kind of award. I’ve got the skills, the experience. This is what I’ve been working toward.
But all I can think about is Ivy.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about her.
She wasn’t part of the plan.
She wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place.
But here she is, everywhere. And she’s distracting the hell out of me.
Freddie invited her, and I didn’t want to get involved.
At all.
But now?
I’m getting tangled up in something that feels like it’s going to pull me under. Everything is impossible when she’s around, smiling, laughing, drawing me in…
So I’m doing what I always do. I keep my head down. Focus on the work.
But the whole damn place feels different with her around. It’s like there’s this tension in the air, a pull between us that doesn’t make sense.
I try to block her out. Do what I’m here to do. But I can’t stop glancing at her, the way she talks to people, the way she smiles even when it looks like she doesn’t want to.
I swear, the minute I turn around, she’s there.
Even when I’m in the zone, tattoo machine humming in my ear, I feel the weight of her eyes on me. She’s not even doing anything. Just standing there, talking to Penny, moving through the crowd like she belongs. But it’s hard to ignore the fact that she doesn’t belong here. Not really.
It’s weird, and it doesn’t sit right.
Then, right as I’m trying to pull my shit together, a guy in a suit walks up to me.
A rep from one of the big studios.
Iron Lotus.
Yeah, I’ve heard of them. They’re huge. People kill to get a spot there.
He’s a sharp guy, well put together. Clean cut, polished shoes. He’s got the look of someone who’s been handling business, not tattoos. Doesn’t fit in at a convention like this, but then again, maybe that’s the point.
He hands me his card like it’s a peace offering, or maybe a threat. "If you’re ever ready to leave the small town grind, give me a call."
I look at the card. The logo’s embossed, high end stuff. Iron Lotus. Big letters, bold. It feels weighty in my palm, almost like it’s expecting something from me.
I’ve never had an offer like this before. A real offer.
Not some local guy wanting a tattoo from the "guy in the back of the shop." This is a chance to do something bigger.
To be someone bigger.
I stare at the card for a moment, but the guy doesn’t leave. He stands there, watching me. Waiting.
"That’s a hell of an offer," I finally say, keeping my voice flat. I don’t want him to think I’m too interested. "You’re sure you’ve got the right guy?"
The guy smiles like he’s heard this before. A rehearsed, easy smile. "I don’t offer these to just anyone, Mitchell Everett. We’ve been following your work. You’re talented. You’ve got potential."
I don’t know if I should be flattered or suspicious. A guy like this doesn’t show up unless he sees something worth cashing in on.
I glance over his shoulder at the hustle of the convention floor, trying to shake off the sense that this whole situation is too easy.
"So, what? You came here for me?" I ask, trying to keep it casual. I’ve learned to be wary of offers that seem like they’ve got no strings attached.
He chuckles. "Not just for you, no. But let’s just say your work’s caught our attention. Your designs have edge. Real craftsmanship. People would kill for the kind of opportunities we offer."
There it is. The hook. People would kill for this. It’s exactly what he wants me to hear.
I look down at the card again. What would it be like? Moving to a bigger city, getting a spot with a studio like that?
The idea sits in my gut, a strange mix of excitement and dread.
I shake my head, trying to focus. "So, why me? What’s the catch? I’m not a big name like some of the guys around here."
He leans in, his voice a little lower now, like we’re sharing a secret.
"Because you’ve got something raw. Something real.
Iron Lotus isn’t looking for the next ‘big thing.’ We want artists who still have fire, the kind of fire that’s easy to lose when you’re chasing trends.
The hunger’s there in your work, Mitchell. I can see it. You’re still hungry."
I hate that he’s right. That fire, that hunger, it's something I try to ignore, something I bury under layers of tattoos and sketches, but it's there. It's always been there.
But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to walk away from everything I know. Coyote Glen’s not much, but it’s mine. It’s real.
"I’ll be waiting, Mitchell. Don’t take too long. Opportunities like this don’t come around every day."
And just like that, he’s gone.
I stand there for a second, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
I know it’s what I’ve been working toward. Hell, it’s what any artist would want. But when I look at the card, all I can think of is Ivy.
I can’t help it.
The thought that I could just leave this place, leave her, leave my twin brother, leave Freddie, leave Coyote Glen behind, it hits harder than it should. There’s something about the whole thing, the weight of it, that makes my chest tighten. Like I’d be walking away from something important.
The evening creeps in, the hum of the convention finally dying down. People are packing up, the noise gradually fading to a dull buzz, but the air between me, Freddie, and Timothy feels thick with something unsaid.
It’s time to talk.
I can’t avoid it anymore. I can’t keep pretending like I’ve got everything under control.
Ivy’s presence, her energy, has been gnawing at me all day.
We’ve done this before. We’ve shared, but Ivy will be different, and I think that’s what we need to discuss.
All of us.
I grab Freddie and Timothy after the crowd thins. Since Ivy is getting Penny to bed, I think this might be a good time for us to chat.
We find a spot by a set of closed doors, out of view. The weight of the decision ahead presses down on me.
“We need to talk,” I say, my voice low. My mind is racing, but I’m trying to keep it steady. “About Ivy. About us.”
Timothy raises an eyebrow, eyes narrowing as he leans against the wall. “Okay, now you’ve got my attention.”
Freddie’s jaw tightens, and for a second, I think he’s going to pull back, maybe shut me down. But when he looks at me, his expression softens. He knows me. Hell, we’ve been through too much for him to not read me like a damn open book.
“Ivy,” I say, feeling the weight of her name in the air. “She’s different, man. She’s different. I can’t figure her out, and I think I’m starting to realize... we don’t have to.”
I watch the shift in their faces, both of them processing it in their own way. Freddie takes a slow breath, running a hand through his hair, and Timothy just nods, still waiting for the rest of the story.
“Look, I’m not saying we’ve got to just dive into this,” I continue. “But I think it’s time we… maybe we should talk about it. About... all of us. Together.”
The words feel heavier than I thought they would. “I’m not talking about some casual fling, not like the way we’ve done things before. I’m talking about... something real.”
Freddie looks away for a moment, his gaze distant. He’s processing, and I can tell he’s not completely sure what I’m suggesting. But I see the flicker of interest too.
“Yeah,” Timothy agrees. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
I nod quietly, not surprised. Of course Tim’s been thinking about this.
We’ve always been in sync. Close in a way only twins can be.
We share more than just blood; we share instincts, unspoken thoughts.
He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it carries weight.
I trust that he’s been turning this over in his head just as much as I have.
I shrug, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don’t know for sure, but I think she might be open to something different. I think... maybe we all need to be open to it.”
Freddie’s quiet for a moment. Then he finally speaks, his voice low but firm. “We need to be sure, before we do anything stupid. I mean, there’s a lot riding on this. She works for me, and she’s Jesse’s sister…”
I nod, understanding exactly what he means. It’s more of a risk for him than us. He could lose his best friend.
But I think she’s worth it.
“I get it, man,” I say, meeting Freddie’s eyes.
“It’s risky, especially for you. But think about it…
this isn’t just about what we want. It’s about what she wants too.
She’s not the kind of person who fits into the usual mold, and I think that’s why she keeps pulling us in. As long as we communicate well…”
Freddie runs his hand through his hair again, looking uncertain, like he’s trying to piece everything together. “So, what now? We just go up to her and ask? This isn’t something you just... throw out there without knowing where she stands.”
I nod. “I think it’s time to talk to her. Be upfront. Let her know what we’re thinking and see if she’s open to it. If she’s not, we back off. No questions, no guilt.”
Timothy raises an eyebrow, a small smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “Look at you, Everett. Talking about feelings and shit. Who knew?”
I give him a side eye, but there’s no humor in my tone when I reply. “This is different, Tim. I’m not about to play games with her. Not when it comes to something that could change everything.”
Timothy gives a little chuckle. “So... when are we going to have the big talk with her?”
I give him a one shouldered shrug. “Tonight is as good a time as any, don’t you think?”