Page 62 of Ink Me Three Times
But the moment sticks. It slides under my skin like a burr and stays there, scratching at my nerves.
I glance at Jesse, my very protective brother, who helped me get out of the mess I was in. Who immediately offered me a place to be after everything went to hell with Luca. Who never once said "I told you so" or "You should’ve left sooner."
Just gave me a new start.
He’s trying to help me rebuild.
And I’m… what? Out here, playing spin the bottle with the Ink & Iron boys?
If he finds out what I’ve done, what I’ve been doing, I don’t know if he’d be mad… or just disappointed. Which is somehow worse.
I smile too brightly and bend to fix Penny’s hoodie, even though it’s not really out of place.
"Okay, wild child," I say. "We need to let the firefighters get back to being heroic, okay?"
"But I not finish my cartwheels!" Penny protests.
"You can show Uncle Jesse later," I promise. "Right now, I’m pretty sure Karl has to go save a kitten or something."
Karl plays along. "Or wrestle a raccoon out of a laundry chute. It’s a very glamorous job."
Penny looks skeptical but allows herself to be wrangled.
We say our goodbyes and make a move.
And as soon as we’re out of view, I feel it all settle in my chest again. The weight of everything I haven’t said. The tangled mess of things I can’t explain.
I came here for a clean slate.
But maybe all I’ve done is become the chaos…
When we get back to the house, Penny seems to sense the shift in me.
Maybe it's the way I flop onto the couch like my bones have dissolved. Maybe toddlers just have that unnerving sixth sense where they can smell a broken adult from three blocks away.
She climbs up beside me, dragging her sippy cup and a mismatched pile of stuffed animals behind her like a traveling circus. Then she goes quiet. That alone is suspicious.
After a beat, she says, very softly, "You can have my blankie if you’re sad."
I blink.
She’s holding it out like it’s the crown jewels… her beloved, slightly crusty unicorn blanket that smells like strawberries and childhood. She’s offering it without hesitation. Just in case it’ll make me feel better.
Man, this kid.
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to anchor myself, because if I let the emotion crest, I’ll cry. And I can’t cry. Not now. Not when Penny is looking at me like she could fix it all with a security blanket and a juice box.
"I’m okay, Pen," I manage, voice thick. "But that’s really sweet."
She shrugs, already distracted, then flops over and rests her head on my lap. "Sometimes I get sad too. I just watch a bug or eat cheese."
"Solid coping strategy," I murmur, brushing her hair out of her face.
She closes her eyes like she’s solved the world’s problems. And I sit there, rooted in place, guilt hitting me square in the sternum.
Becausethisis what I should be focused on.
Not the triple-headed hydra of romantic entanglement I’ve somehow managed to summon.
