Page 122 of Ink Me Three Times
I bark out a humourless laugh. “We were never friends.”
She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her coffee, nails tapping against plastic. French tips, neat and glossy. Of course. “Relax, Timothy. I’m just waiting for Freddie.”
“Yeah?” My hands curl into fists at my sides. “Why.”
She sighs like I’m boring her. “Because I want to see my daughter.”
The words are so casual they make me want to throw up. She might as well be ordering brunch. Like she didn’t vanish right after Penny was born and never look back.
“You don’t get to justdecidethat,” I say, my voice low, dangerous. “You don’t get to show up after four years and pretend you’re her mother again.”
She tilts her head, studying me, deciding whether I’m worth the effort. “And what, you think you can stop me? I don’t actually think it has anything to do with you, Timmy.”
“Maybe not me,” I bite out. “Because Freddie’s not gonna let you do this to her.”
She smiles, slow and poisonous. “We’ll see about that.”
Silence drops between us, heavy as wet cement. Somewhere down Main Street a garbage truck rattles past, breaking the morning quiet for just a moment. She doesn’t flinch. Just flicks her gaze up and down my frame like I’m something she might scrape off her boot.
“I’m just here to reconnect,” she says, as if it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. “I’ve reassessed my life. I’m in a better place now. I want to be a mother again.”
I take one slow step closer, fists clenched, trying not to lose it. “You don’t get to say that like it means something. You left, Trina. You ghosted your own daughter.”
She shrugs.Shrugs. “People change, Timothy.”
“Not you.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t be so dramatic.” She sips her cold brew, cool as hell. “You always were so touchy.”
My vision starts to go red around the edges. “You think this is touchy? You think you can disappear for four years and then stroll back into town with your trench coat and bullshit redemption arc and act like nothing happened?”
“I’m not acting like nothing happened,” she says, lips twitching. “I’m saying I want to fix it.”
“Fix it,” I echo, voice flat. “You think Penny needs fixing? She’s not broken. She’s thriving. You don’t even know her. You wouldn’t recognize her laugh, or how she lines up her crayons inrainbow order, or how she hides behind Freddie’s leg when she’s overwhelmed. You don’t know anything about her.”
Trina’s smile fades, just a fraction. “I’ll learn.”
I laugh, it’s short and mean. “Not on our watch.”
She tilts her head. “I’ve already spoken to a lawyer.”
The words hit in a gut punch.
She keeps going, calm as anything. “I have rights, Timmy. She’s my daughter. I’m filing for custody as soon as I find an apartment.”
Something in me snaps. “You’re not bluffing.”
She doesn’t answer. Just smiles again. Slow, smug, sharp.
My hands curl into fists again. I feel it building, rising in my chest, powerful as a scream. I don’t yell, but my voice drops low and dangerous. “You show up here, you talk to lawyers, you throw around words likecustodylike you deserve any of this, like you want Penny for any reason other than to feel better about yourself, but I swear, I will make sure you never get near her again.”
She rolls her eyes, leaning against the shop door looking bored. “You always did think you were the protector, didn’t you? But newsflash, Timothy… this isn’t your fight.”
“It is now.”
She opens her mouth to say something else, but then…
The rumble of Mitchell’s truck cuts through the quiet in a warning shot.
