Page 56 of Ink Me Three Times

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A poor excuse for action.

The door creaks open again and Freddie strolls in, hair damp, sunglasses perched on his head like a halo.

He pauses when he sees us.

Looks between us like he’s waiting for one of us to speak.

We don’t.

Tim just gives him a half smile and goes back to his coffee.

I keep my head down, pretending to sketch. Pretending it doesn’t hurt.

Freddie finally says, "Alright. Did something happen or are you two just doing performance art now?"

No answer.

He sets down a paper bag on the counter. "I brought bagels. That’s all I’ve got. No therapy, no refereeing, just carbs."

Still nothing.

Tim shrugs eventually. "It’s just a weird morning. Nothing big."

I can feel Freddie watching me. Like he’s waiting for a cue. But I’m not giving him one.

I can’t.

The silence turns thick. Uncomfortable.

Until Tim breaks it, soft and almost too casual.

"I, uh…" he shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. "I probably should’ve said something earlier. Just didn’t want it to get weird."

I freeze.

He doesn’t have to finish. I know where this is going.

Still, I don’t stop him. I just let the train keep rolling.

"Ivy and I… we hooked up," he says, gentle but certain. "Last night."

Freddie’s head jerks toward him.

I stay still. Stone. Ice. Rage coiling under the surface.

"She’s incredible," Tim says quietly. "And smart. And funny. And I really like her, Mitch. Like… I’m not just messing around."

And that’s when something in me snaps.

Not because he slept with her.

Not because he likes her.

But because he got to say it out loud.

He got tofeelsomething and own it and not bury it under layers of fear.

And I didn’t.

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