Page 66 of Ink Me Three Times

---

What will these guys do?

I shake the thought loose and return to my corner. Wraps sticky. Pulse still racing. I throw one punch, then another, but the rhythm’s gone. The control. My fists land wrong, too shallow, then too hard.

Focus.

But all I can think about isher.

Ivy.

The way she looked at me in the dark, like she saw me. The raw pieces. The cracks.

She didn’t flinch.

She kissed me like she meant it. Touched me like shewantedto remember. Like she needed to.

And I let myself believe it. For one second, I let myself hope.

I throw another punch, miss the center. The bag jerks. My knuckles scream.

I step back, chest rising and falling like I just ran a sprint.

Now?

Now I don’t know where I stand with any of them.

Mitchell. Freddie. Ivy.

I let it get messy, and now it’s tangled up in every part of my life.

If I’m not careful, I could lose my brother.

If I say the wrong thing, I could lose Freddie.

If I let this thing with Ivy mean more than it’s supposed to, if I let itmatter, I could lose everything.

I close my eyes and press my forehead to the bag, breathing in the smell of sweat and leather and rubber and pain.

Let it ground me.

Let it remind me what I can control.

My breath.

My fists.

My damn heart.

At least for now.

I take one more deep breath.

Pull the wraps tighter.

And throw one last clean, centered hit.

Not out of rage.

Out of resolve.

---