I move behind the bar automatically and grab a rag because it’s habit and muscle memory. He puts his hand on it.
“You gonna keep doing this?” Jonah asks.
“Doing what?” I clip.
“You know what,” he says calmly.
“I’m trying to work.”
“You’re hiding,” Jonah says.
I slam a stack of coasters down. “Drop it. Why does everyone say that?”
“Because it’s true,” he says.
I glare at him. “No, it’s not.”
“You’re fired.”
I blink. “What?”
“You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me.”
“I just did.”
I stare at him. “For what?”
“For acting like a ghost in your own life.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You’re dramatic.”
“Marina’s the manager now.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?” he snaps. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”
“I don’t care.”
And I don’t. That’s the worst part.Everything feels like static. Like I’m watching my own life through fogged glass.
Jonah walks and stops in front of me. “You’re letting it fall apart.”
“I’m holding everything together.”
“For who?” he demands.
“My mom.”
“Your mom doesn’t need you to martyr yourself.”
I stiffen. “Watch it.”
“No, I won’t watch it. She means something to me, son. She needs you to be happy and not to punish yourself because of her. Stop being scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
