Page 121 of Ink Me Three Times
I grab it, staring down at those words again.
Can we talk? I need to tell you something.
My chest feels tight. Everything feels tight.
I don’t send them.
Not today.
Because suddenly, I’m not sure any of this matters if Penny’s whole life is about to be turned upside down.
And honestly?
Mine too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Timothy
Seriously,mornings can go tohell.
Especially this one.
I’m running on two hours of sleep and a half cold cup of coffee that tastes of burnt regret. Freddie called me late last night, voice all tight and frayed around the edges, sayingshe’s here.Trina. Back in town. Wants to see Penny.
He still hasn’t told Ivy.
Of course he hasn’t. Because Freddie’s a stubborn idiot with a hero complex the size of Montana and apparently no concept of how to not self destruct.
I left the apartment before sunrise, hoping to catch Freddie before opening hours so I can try and talk some sense into him before Mitchell comes along and gives him some seriously tough love.
The sky’s still doing that pink and blue watercolor shit when I pull into the lot. The air’s cold enough to bite through my hoodie, waking me up just a fraction.
I slam the door shut harder than necessary, the echo bouncing off brick and glass. My boots crunch over gravel as I head for the shop, already rehearsing what I’m gonna say.
But then I see someone unexpected.
Not Freddie, buther.
Trina.
What the fuck is she doinghere?
She’s standing there outside the front door, a bad omen you’d read about in a Southern Gothic novel. Sunglasses perched on her nose even though the sun’s barely up. Tall boots. Long trench coat belted tight around her waist. Cold brew in hand as if this is just another Tuesday and not her first reappearance in years.
My stomach does this slow, sour roll. She hasn’t changed much. Still got that model off duty thing going on. Still looks smug as hell about it.
She clocks me instantly. Her mouth curves up into that smile I remember too well. All teeth. No warmth.
“Well, if it isn’t Timmy,” she purrs.
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw pops. Man, I hate that nickname. Always have. Especially from her.
“Trina,” I say flatly, stopping a few feet away. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
She tsks, pulling her sunglasses down just enough for me to see her eyes, bright, sharp, amused. She thinks she has already won whatever game I don’t know we’re playing yet.
“That any way to greet an old friend?” she asks.
