I insist on working today's shift, even when Noah offers—again—to cover for me. Or give me the day off.
"You sure?" he asks softly, like he already knows the answer. I nod, avoiding his eyes as I tie the strings of my apron. I don't want to talk about it. Not now. Not again.
"I've already taken one day off this week," I say instead. "I don't wanna bother anyone. Plus, tomorrow is my day off. I can't be greedy and selfish."
But that's only part of it. The truth is, I don't trust myself alone today. Not after I came into dr. Ronald's room. Not after sitting in a parked car, letting my mom's isolation sink into my bones. I've been down that road before. I know what spiraling feels like—how it starts as a flicker and turns into a wildfire. I won't let myself sink that far again. Not if I can help it.