I shook my head too fast and sank onto the couch. The cushions swallowed me, smooth leather that smelled faintly of cedar. She walked over and sat beside me, turning so she could face me fully. Her eyes were sharp but not unkind.
How could I even start? Tell her I'd gotten Delilah pregnant? Tell her I'd been losing myself to something invisible, something that made me think about control more than connection? The words jammed in my throat.
I linked my hands together, elbows on my knees. The room felt too large, too perfect. I didn't fit into this place, not with my secondhand sneakers and my past that smelled like cheap cigarettes.
"I think I'm just a little lost," I said finally. "Everything changed so fast. One day I was sleeping in a rundown apartment, now I'm here."
"That's okay," she said quietly. "We can help you adjust."
"I don't need help," I said, shaking my head. "If anything, I should be the one helping."
Her eyebrows drew together. "And why do you think that?"
