Chapter 80
CECILIA
The second I step inside, the cool air wraps around me like a safety net, easing the tension in my shoulders.
Relief floods through me as I breathe in the familiar scent of home—freshly brewed espresso and the lingering aroma of garlic and basil from whatever Mom’s been cooking today.
It grounds me in a way only home can. Well, home and Gabriel, I suppose.
My parents greet me as I enter, smiles on their faces, completely unaware of the chaos that unraveled last night. No signs of panic, no sharp questions—just the soft murmur of their usual small talk.
I had texted Dad from Gabriel’s, letting him know I’d be staying the night. But still, a part of me expected my mom to bombard me with questions the second I walked through the door. She’s always so nosy, especially when it comes to Gabriel.
“Did you have a good time last night?” Mom asks, her voice light and casual as if nothing’s wrong.
She glances at my dad, who’s already buried in his newspaper, one hand lazily stirring a cup of coffee.
The clink of his spoon against the ceramic mug blends with the familiar scent of Italian food filling the air.
I force a smile, the muscles in my face feeling tight.
“Yeah, it was nice,” I say, keeping my tone as easy as theirs.
Relief loosens the knot in my stomach. I don’t linger—just a couple of nods and polite chuckles before I make my escape upstairs.
Each step feels lighter, the distance between me and their questions a necessary buffer.
Shutting the door behind me, I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. They didn’t know. They didn’t have to worry.
I flop down onto my bed, the mattress sinking beneath me like it’s trying to swallow my exhaustion whole.
My phone catches my eye—its screen cracked from last night, a reminder of everything I want to forget.
Great. Just what I need, another thing to deal with.
Swiping through the notifications, I quickly clear the missed calls from Gabriel and the rest of the guys.
But my attention sticks to the missed calls and texts from Adriana.
I hit call before I can second-guess myself, the trill of the outgoing ring pulsing in my ear, my heart matching its rhythm. After the second ring, she answers, bombarding me with a flood of questions—no buffer, no warning.
“Are you okay? Julio called last night and said you were missing, but he wouldn’t give me any details,” she huffs.
“He said you and Gabe got into a fight, and you weren’t answering your phone, but seriously, where the hell have you been?
I get ignoring the guys—if Gabriel was being an asshole, I’d ignore him too,” she grumbles, her tone softening as she adds, “But you didn’t answer me either.
What gives? And don’t lie. Are you okay? ”
I consider making something up or blowing off the question, but lying to Adriana doesn’t sit right with me. Besides, I’m tired of carrying this by myself.
“Well …” My chest tightens, hesitation curling in my gut.
I can just tell her. She won’t be mad like Gabriel.
At least, I don’t think she will. I doubt she’ll be happy but—Screw it.
I need to tell someone, and Adriana is the safest option I have.
She’s the least likely to judge me for it and the most likely to understand.
I take a breath and dive in, giving her the quick version of last night’s events. “Gabriel and I went to his mom’s wedding, and … well, she definitely wasn’t thrilled to see him.”
Adriana’s response is immediate, but her tone remains steady. “That sucks,” she says, her voice even, controlled. I know she’s absorbing it, processing it in her own quiet way. She and Gabe used to be close, so she’s already familiar with the messy dynamic between him and his parents.
“Yeah, it wasn’t great. I could see how much it hurt him, and I tried talking to him, but he was just ... pissed. Really pissed. He lashed out, blamed me for the whole thing going sideways.” I pause, feeling the sting of those words again.
“Of course he did,” Adriana says, her voice so matter-of-fact it almost stings. “Like you could’ve known his mom was gonna act like that.”
“I know, right?” I huff, rubbing my temples. “But he was hurt, so he lashed out at me. You know how it goes. Hurt people, hurt people.”
Adriana lets out a soft exhale, not quite a sigh. “Yeah, I get it.” There’s a beat of silence before she adds, “You’re a lot more forgiving than I’d be. I wouldn’t have let him off that easy.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out weak. “It’s fine now. He apologized. I get why he was upset, and I don’t hold it against him.” I hesitate, knowing the next part is going to hit harder. “But that’s not even the worst of it.”
Adriana’s voice stays neutral, like she’s waiting. “There’s more?”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “After he stormed off, he sent me home with Felix. I was upset, too, so when I got home, I went for a walk to clear my head.” I hesitate again, chewing on my bottom lip. “That’s when things really went south.”
“South how?” Her tone remains calm, but I can sense the subtle shift—she’s on alert now, piecing things together.
I take a deep breath. “Austin’s mom found me. Cornered me while I was alone.”
Adriana doesn’t react at first, just a pause that stretches longer than I expect. “What do you mean, she found you?”
“I was going for a walk. She pulled up with her driver and sorta cornered me on the side of the road. I tried to walk away, but they made it pretty clear I didn’t have a choice.” I swallow hard. “So, I got in the car.”
Another pause. Then, Adriana says quietly, “You got in the car with her.” It’s not a question. More like she’s repeating the words to herself, trying to make sense of them.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I explain, the defensiveness creeping into my voice despite myself. “Trust me, I didn’t want to. But she wasn’t giving me any other option.”
Adriana’s response is slow, deliberate. “Okay. So what did she want?”
“She was freaking out because Austin made bail, and they couldn’t find him. She wanted to make sure he wouldn’t come after me. Not because she gives a shit about me, obviously. But so Austin doesn’t land himself in more hot water. So, she kept me with her until her husband tracked him down.”
A low exhale escapes Adriana. “She kept you with her,” she repeats, her voice steady, though I can hear the tension beneath it. “And you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly, needing to reassure her. “I’m fine. She didn’t hurt me. But she talked about this plea deal. Five years for Austin, three for Gregory and Parker. Court-ordered therapy for all of them when they get out.”
Adriana is quiet for a moment. When she finally speaks, her voice is calm, but I sense the shift in her energy. “And you’re considering it.”
It’s not a question. She’s always been good at reading between the lines, even when she’s holding back her own reactions.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “There’s no guarantee Austin will get more than five years if we go to trial, and Gregory and Parker? They’ll walk. I’m just … I’m not sure I have the energy to go through a long trial, and honestly, I’m scared of the outcome of one.”
Her silence lingers again, but I know she’s turning it over in her mind, weighing my words.
“You’ve clearly thought about this,” she says after a beat, her tone careful. “Which means you’ve already gone through all of your options. What’s holding you back?”
I bite my lip, my chest tightening. “I guess … I just need someone to tell me I’m not crazy for considering it.”
“You’re not crazy,” she says. “You’re doing what you need to do to protect yourself. That’s not crazy.”
Relief washes over me, but it’s tinged with guilt. “Gabe doesn’t know yet,” I confess, my voice quieter.
Adriana doesn’t react, at least not outwardly. But I know she’s filing the information away like she always does, her mind working through the implications. “That’s a mistake,” she says. “You need to tell him. Sooner rather than later. Accepting a plea deal is no small thing.”
“I know,” I murmur, feeling the weight of it settle back on my shoulders. “I will. Just … not today.”
“Not today,” she echoes, her voice level, but there’s a firm undertone. “But soon. Promise me.”
“Yeah. Soon.”
Adriana has always been like this—never one to push too hard, never making things more complicated than they need to be. It’s a kind of stability I’ve come to rely on, even when her own emotions stay beneath the surface.
“You wanna grab coffee this week?” she asks after a beat, the shift in tone subtle but noticeable.
I manage a small smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Cool. Text me when you’re free.”
After we hang up, I grab my laptop and start chipping away at schoolwork, but my mind is elsewhere. The conversation with Adriana lingers in my head, as does the conversation I know I need to have with Gabriel.
Seriously, when is all of the drama in my life going to end?
My phone chirps and a text from Gabriel illuminates my screen, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Gabriel: I’m picking you up in 30. Dress comfortably.
A thrill of excitement shoots through me—followed by a twinge of guilt.
It’s only been a couple of hours since I saw him this morning, but I already miss him.
Still, the conversation I’m avoiding weighs heavy in the back of my mind.
Whatever he’s planning, might as well enjoy it before dropping the bomb that’s bound to ruin everything.
Closing my laptop, I scramble to my feet and rush to the bathroom.
After the world’s fastest shower in the history of showers, I towel off my hair, finger-combing it into a messy braid.
I throw on ripped jeans and an oversized t-shirt, slipping into my checkered Vans before pausing at my dresser.
My fingers hover over my stack of bracelets, the ones I usually wear to cover my scars.
But today ... I don’t feel the need to hide them.