Normal. This was normal.
I could hold onto normal for a few hours.
"Olivia." Jenna's voice cut through my thoughts. "You drift off like that during rush and you're dead. Focus."
"Right. Sorry."
Ben shot me a sympathetic look as he headed back for more supplies. "She's scarier before she's had her coffee."
"I heard that."
"You were meant to."
Their banter washed over me as I moved between tables, mechanical and soothing. Wipe, stack, straighten. Breathe. Exist in this moment instead of the hundred terrible futures my brain kept trying to construct.
Just get through today.
One hour at a time.
Don't think about anything else.
The shift ended with a whimper instead of a bang—lunch rush tapering off as players filtered toward the locker rooms and staff disappeared into their pre-game routines.
Jenna waved me off with a distracted "One hour. Don't be late," already pivoting toward inventory counts.
Ben called out something encouraging I didn't quite catch.
Then I stood in the hallway outside the café, apron folded in my bag, one empty hour stretching ahead like a question I didn't want to answer.
Go home? The apartment felt too far, too isolated. Too many locks that wouldn't matter if he decided to kick the door in. Again.
Stay here? Loiter around the stadium like some pathetic groupie with nowhere better to be?
My phone sat heavy in my pocket.
I pulled it out before I could overthink it. Unlocked the screen. Contacts. Mom.
My thumb hovered.
One tap. That was all it would take. Her number right there, unchanged since I was sixteen and still believed she might choose me over him.
Why did you take it back?
The question burned through my chest, acid and fury mixing until I couldn't separate them. She'd testified. Told the truth under oath. Put him behind bars where he belonged.
And then she'd recanted. Undid everything. Erased her own words like they'd never mattered. Like I'd never mattered.
My finger trembled over the call button.
Maybe she'd explain.
Maybe she'd apologize.
Maybe—
No.
Calling her would only give him another way to find me. She'd slip. Mention the stadium, the city, some detail she thought didn't matter. And he'd know.
