Page 140 of Ink Me Three Times
“She literally told you the second she walked through the door. A few moments after she told me.”
“That’s not the point,” he snaps.
“Well then what is the point?” I shoot back. “That she didn’t break the news with a powerpoint and a warm cookie?”
He’s up now, pacing, jaw tight.
“This is huge, Timothy. Life changing. And you… you just acted like it was normal!”
“No,” I say, stepping in, “I acted like a functioning adult. One who didn’t yell at a woman having a panic attack in the middle of a tattoo shop.”
Mitchell’s eyes flash. “I didn’t yell.”
“You didn’tnotyell.”
“Stop.”
“Make me.”
We stare each other down, both breathing hard now. Mitchell’s whole body is coiled, like he’s waiting for someone to punch him so he can punch back harder.
My pulse hammers in my neck so hard it almost hurts. Part of me wants to flinch back, but I keep my feet planted. Because if I give ground now, he’ll take the whole damn floor with him.
“You always do this,” I say finally, quieter now. “You push people away. You panic and you shut down and you run.”
“Not true,” he mutters.
“Really? Because yesterday you were half a sentence away from moving to Portland.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s accurate.”
Mitchell’s jaw works, like he wants to say something but can’t figure out how to form the words. I know that feeling. Been there. Built a summer home.
“You’re scared,” I say. “Fine. So am I. So is Ivy. But you don’t get to burn the whole place down just because you don’t like the temperature.”
He snorts, turns away.
“Look,” I say, exhaling. “I get it. This is big. You’re spiraling. But don’t pretend like this is all on me. Don’t act like I betrayed you just because I support her.”
Silence.
He rubs a hand over his face. Tired now. Deflated.
Mitchell exhales sharp, like he’s trying to get a grip. Or maybe he’s going to let this die down.
No such luck.
“You’re in love with her,” he says suddenly, snapping the silence.
It lands hard.
My chest goes tight. The room feels too small all of a sudden. The walls are pressing in on me. He says it as an accusation.
“You think I don’t see it?” he adds, voice rough. “You’ve been following her around like a puppy since you met her.”
I go still.
