“You sure you’re all right?”
“I just remembered”—I snap my head up—“I have something I need to do tomorrow,” I mutter. “Would you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
I shuffle for my timecard. I cross off the hours I pre- populated for Friday. “Will you sign off on this for me?”
He studies it, then looks at me. “But, uh .?.?. I might need you tomorrow. You did an amazing job in Ellie’s room. The detail on those flowers along the back wa—”
I drop the card and flip around. “Forget I asked.” I head to the door.
“Rose, wait.”
I pause midway and turn.
“Tell me what happened. Maybe I can help.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Millie and I didn’t fight much, but when we did, I usually knew how to fix it.”
I shake my head. “Something bad happened—not with Wilder—with me, a few years ago. Life’s been .?.?. different since.” Tears build up in my eyes. “Like a long pause filled with mistakes and wasted energy.” I take a breath. “But with him, I found something steady, something safe and fun, and warm. He doesn’t share much, but he listens, he’s patient.?.?.” I swallow.And up until a few days ago, he didn’t judge.
Dallas tilts his head to the side. “Then what on earth’s theproblem?”
“Something I did caught up with me and it tested his patience. I’ve been .?.?. waiting for him to get past it.”
“You just need to give him t—”
“No, I think .?.?.” I blink with a low headshake. “I think I’ve been waiting for the wrong person to get past it.”
He watches me for a moment. His features are naturally hard, but he’s warm and understanding.
Without a word, he walks back to the desk and lifts my timecard, signing it. “I’ll bring these back to Ginger myself.”
I release a breath. “Thanks.”
“You got my number. Call if you need anything. I mean it.”
“I know. Thank you.”
I take the rest of the afternoon to make calls. I know which ones I’ve needed to make for a while and now .?.?. I’m ready.
Wilder and Wesley giving up on me shouldn’t have been my push, my wake-up call. But the silence they left behind didn’t settle—it itched like a question I couldn’t shake.
WhatamIdoing?
I’ve been holding on to Wesley finally understanding. To Wilder choosing me over everything that holds him back. I’d forgotten that I came here for a reset.
A chance to recharge, reorganize my thoughts, my objectives, and most of all, my sanity.
I’ve been blaming myself when the answer all along was tomoveon. Not change who I am or question my ability to help others.
I may have lost two years, but I can catch up quickly.
I’ve always wanted to be a therapist. I let the idea that Icouldn’t help someone when I could barely help myself derail me, confuse me, and take control.
Sandra, the therapist I ghosted several months ago, was my first call. I made an appointment at her office next week, but she wanted to take some time to catch up first. So I filled her in and she talked me through a few crucial next steps.
I felt unshackled. Like I’d been carrying something heavy for too long.
Through a new perspective, I was in complete awe listening to her. The care, attention, and knowledge she provided. The checklist she insisted I make. And the constant reassurance that I’m not alone.
