Chapter 37 Mitchell
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Mitchell
It’s been a day.
A long ass week to be honest.
So I’m not expecting to see anyone when I walk out of the back with coffee in one hand and a half-finished sketchbook tucked under my arm.
“Oh, Tim…”
But it isn’t the sight of him that makes me jump.
It’s the woman beside him.
Ivy.
My heart kicks before my brain even catches up.
She looks like hell.
Hair pulled back in a way that says she didn’t sleep, sweatshirt sleeves pulled down over her hands as armor. She’s not making eye contact. Not smiling. She doesn’t have to say a word. I know something’s wrong.
Timothy sees me and gives me a look. One of those brace yourself ones.
So yeah. Definitely not just a social call.
Ivy steps forward, slow. Careful.
Like she’s walking into something dangerous.
Her voice is quiet when it comes. Almost a whisper.
But every syllable slices straight through me.
“I’m pregnant.”
My blood goes cold.
She keeps going, ripping the band aid off as fast as she can.
“It’s triplets. And I don’t know who the father is out of you, Freddie, and Tim.”
The words don’t register at first.
Then they do.
And the room spins.
I want to say some comforting words. Something that doesn’t make me sound like a selfish piece of shit. But the words get stuck behind my teeth. Because the truth is, I’ve spent so long running from anything real, I wouldn’t know how to hold it if it showed up and asked me to stay.
Last time I let myself care, it ended with me crawling out of someone else’s bed, heart split wide open. I swore I’d never let anyone get close enough to do it again.
I set my coffee down without tasting it. Miss the coaster. Don’t care. My hands are shaking, and I don’t even try to hide it.
Triplets.
She’s pregnant.
She doesn’t know…
A thousand thoughts crash through my head at once, none of them helpful. My jaw clenches. My throat closes. My chest starts to burn.
I try to breathe.
I can’t.
The smell of antiseptic cleaner and old coffee hits the back of my throat. There’s a crack in the floor tile by Ivy’s foot. I stare at it as if it’s the most important thing in the room because if I look at her, if I really look at her, I might say something I can’t take back.
“How…” I manage, but my voice cracks. “How long have you known?”
“A few weeks,” she says, hugging her arms tighter around her body. “I wanted to wait. Say it when it felt safe.”
Timothy is quiet beside her, watching me like I’m a grenade.
“A few weeks,” I echo, repeating it to try and slow my pulse. “And you’re just now telling us?”
“I didn’t know how,” she says, voice cracking at the edges. “I still don’t. You’re all wrapped around each other, and then Trina showed up, and…” She stops. Swallows hard. “This isn’t easy for me either, Mitchell.”
I flinch at my name.
Coming from her, it hits different. Too real.
“And you’re sure it’s one of us?” I ask, even though the question makes me feel like a bastard.
She nods, slow. “Yeah. It’s one of you. And before you ask, no, I’m not sleeping with anyone else.”
Her words hang there, heavy.
I’m floating six inches above the ground, completely unmoored.
“Triplets,” I whisper again, more to myself than anyone.
“Yeah,” she says, eyes going glassy. “I was just as shocked. Still am.”
Timothy shifts beside her, finally speaking. “We’ll figure this out. All of us.”
I almost laugh.
Not because it’s funny.
But because we sounds like a death sentence right now.
“I can’t… I mean, have you thought about what people are gonna say?” I snap, regretting it instantly. “Jesse’s gonna flip. You know that, right? This town doesn’t exactly keep things quiet.”
She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to.
Her eyes just go cold.
And I do what I always do when I feel cornered.
I run my mouth.
“There’s this shop,” I say, tone flat. “In Portland. Offered me a chair. At the con.”
Timothy turns his head toward me, slow. “Seriously?”
I shrug, try to play it casual. “Could be a clean break. Bigger city. No drama. I was already thinking…”
But the second it leaves my mouth, I know it’s the wrong thing to say.
Ivy’s face drops.
Something behind her eyes shuts down.
“You’re already planning your escape,” she says. Not a question. A fact. “Of course you are.”
“I didn’t mean…”
But she’s already backing toward the door.
Her eyes flick to mine, and I swear, I might as well be looking at a dying star. Beautiful. Burned out. Dangerous. I see something break behind them, and that’s what does me in. Not the anger. Not the tears. The break.
“No,” she says, voice hard now. “You meant it. It’s fine. Thanks for confirming.”
“Ivy, wait.”
But she’s gone before I can get another word out.
“What the fuck, Mitch?” Timothy’s voice is low, but it vibrates with anger. “She comes here terrified, and that’s what you say?”
“What do you want from me?” I snap, too loud. “A fucking Hallmark speech? Congratulations, Ivy, can’t wait to paint the nursery?”
Timothy’s jaw flexes. He looks like he wants to punch me. For a second, I almost wish he would. At least then I’d feel something besides this screaming inside my skull.
But he goes after her, calling her name, but she waves him off, looking pained by his voice.
The bell over the door jangles, and then it’s just me again.
Me, a cold coffee, and three lives I might be tied to.
And I don’t even know who the hell I am anymore.
And for the first time in a long time…
I don’t want to run.
Because the last time I stayed, the last time I gave my heart out for real, it came back shattered. And I promised myself never again. Never again.
But I already started running.
And I don’t know how to undo it.