Chapter 43 Mitchell
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Mitchell
The engine's roar is the only thing keeping me upright.
I take the curves too fast, maybe the asphalt can punish me enough to make up for what I said. Maybe if I lean hard into the speed, I can outrun the sound of Ivy’s voice going quiet. The look in her eyes when I suggested I should just leave.
She didn’t even have the strength left to fight me on it.
I told myself it was nothing more than a throwaway comment in the middle of a stupid argument.
But I meant it. Or… I meant something.
And now it’s burning a hole straight through me.
By the time I reach the overlook, my hands are cramping from how tightly I’ve been gripping the handlebars. I kill the engine and the silence that follows is almost deafening. The kind of quiet that forces you to hear your own bullshit loud and clear.
I sit on the rusted guardrail, shoulders hunched, staring out at the valley, like it might offer up a damn epiphany.
It doesn’t.
I drag a hand over my face and lean forward, elbows on my knees. My chest is caving in on itself, tight and mean and full of shit I haven’t let myself say out loud.
Because the truth is, I’m scared.
Not just of being hurt. But of wanting.
Ivy made me want more. Real. And it terrified the hell out of me.
So I ran my mouth. Suggested the whole harem thing like it was all some kind of sexy adventure. Something casual. Fun. As if I could keep my heart out of it if I just kept the rules flexible enough.
But I couldn’t.
And I don’t survive loss. Not well.
I came up here to clear my head. But all I’ve done is rip it open wider.
Because here’s the truth I can’t run from anymore:
I don’t want to leave.
I don’t want fun or casual or whatever the hell we’ve been pretending this is.
I want her.
We all do. I know it.
And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it’s been the problem since day one. This thing between us, between her and me, and Tim, and Freddie, it's never been just sex or tension or chemistry. It’s been possibility. Hope. Something none of us knew how to hold without breaking it.
And I broke it first.
I let fear steer the wheel and I crashed the whole damn thing into a wall. And now? I don’t get to fix it all at once. But I can start.
I kick up the stand, swing a leg over the seat, and head back toward town. The wind feels different this time. Not cleansing. Not redemptive. Just honest.
The shop lights are still on when I pull into the lot. Of course they are. Tim’s nothing if not reliable. Steady. Loyal even when he shouldn’t be. I park and kill the engine, heart pounding harder than it did on the curves.
I glance through the windows and take a minute to find life inside. He’s bent under the counter, sleeves rolled up, face set in that careful, neutral expression he uses when he’s trying not to explode.
He hears the door and doesn’t look up, rifling through papers.
“Didn’t expect to see you again today,” he says flatly.
“Yeah, well. I didn’t expect to be such a jackass either, but here we are.”
He finally looks up. Just looks at me for a long beat. No words. Just heat and history and all the mess I left hanging in the air.
“You didn’t deserve that punch,” I say.
Tim stands, slow and deliberate. “I didn’t.”
“I deserved a hell of a lot worse.”
“You did.”
There’s another beat. Tighter this time.
I run a hand through my hair. “I panicked. With Ivy. With you. With this whole thing. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I said something stupid and made it worse.”
His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t interrupt. So I keep going.
“I was trying to pretend it wasn’t serious. That none of this was real. The harem thing, the casual stuff… it was just a way from letting it mean too much.”
“You think it didn’t already?” he asks, voice low. “You think we’re all playing dress up while you sit on the sidelines?”
“No,” I say. “I think I’ve been afraid of being all in. But I am. I just didn’t want to say it out loud because then it could get taken away.”
He sighs, tossing the papers onto the counter. “You hurt her.”
“I know.”
“And you hurt me.”
“I know that too.”
Tim crosses his arms, eyes narrowing. “So what now? You give one apology and it’s fixed?”
“No,” I say immediately. “It’s not fixed. Not even close. But I needed to say it. To start saying the right things instead of hiding behind jokes and fear.”
Something shifts in his expression. Still guarded. Still wary. But maybe—maybe—just a little less angry.
“We're all in this, Mitch,” he says finally. “Whether we like it or not. And Ivy… she deserves better than us screwing it up because we’re too stubborn to talk.”
“Agreed.”
A beat. Then he nods. Just once. It’s not a handshake or a forgiveness or a full circle moment. But it’s a start. I’ll take it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, jarring against the quiet.
I glance at the screen.
Freddie.
A spike of nerves hits me square in the chest. Because if he’s calling right now, it’s not casual.
I answer. “Hey.”
There’s a pause on the other end. Then: “We need to talk. All of us. Ivy too. We need to sort this shit out once and for all.”
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing hard. “We do.”
His voice is steady. Serious. “Right now? Does that work because I got a sitter for Penny?”
I glance at Tim, who’s already watching me like he knows exactly what that call means.
“Come to the shop” I say.
And I’ll be here.
Because I’m done running.
Whatever’s waiting on the other side of this conversation, whatever truths get dragged out, whoever walks away, whoever stays, I’m not hiding behind fear anymore.
I’m in.
All the way.