I shake my head.
“He came home high one night and my mom flipped out on him. I remember her screaming at him, telling him what a disappointment he was and that the very sight of him made her sick.”
Moisture pricks the backs of my eyes.
“I should have said something. Maybe if I did he …” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. That night, Carlos locked himself in his room. We had one of those Jack and Jill bathrooms between our bedrooms, and I remember hearing the water turn on. I figured he was maybe taking a cold shower. Trying to sober up. But the water was on for a really long time. I got this feeling in my chest.” He presses his hand over his heart. “It was tight and the pain was unlike anything I’d experienced before. I knew something was wrong but I didn’t know what. I knocked on the door, but he never answered. I pounded on the damn thing. I knew he was pissed off, and ignoring me was common behavior for him, but I don’t know, I just couldn’t shake the feeling. My mom and dad had gone out that night after the fight so it was just the two of us and I started to get worried.”
I swallow hard, the weight of what he’s saying sinking in. He’s been carrying this—his brother, his guilt—like a chain around his neck.
“I broke through the door and nearly dislocated my shoulder in the process,” he says. “And then there he was,” his voice grows thick. “I knew as soon as I saw him that it was too late. He was already gone. There were pills spilled out over the counter. An empty bottle of Hornitos beside the tub. And there was blood.” A muscle ticks in his jaw. “There was so much fucking blood.”
Without hesitation, I go to him and wrap my arms around Gabriel’s waist. “I’m so sorry you had to see that,” I tell him, and it's then I realize what finding me must have done to him. No wonder he was angry. I can’t imagine the sort of emotions that must have triggered in him. “And I’m sorry you were the one to find me. You never should have had to?—”
“No,” he says, pulling me impossibly closer to his chest. “I’m sorry you found yourself in a position where you felt that was your only option. But I’m not sorry I’m the one who found you. As fucked up as that day was, it led me to you. No way would I change that.”
I take a deep breath, letting the salt air fill my lungs, and I tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to keep trying to save me,” I tell him.
His jaw clenches, and for a second, I think he’ll argue. But then he just nods. “I think I understand that now. But I’m not going anywhere. I want to wade through the muck with you. I won’t leave you on your own and hope you find your way out on the other side.”
The sound of the ocean fills the silence between us, and despite the heaviness of the conversation, I feel … lighter.
Gabriel squeezes me once, then pulls back, a small smile on his lips. “Come on. I think we’ve got a few more holes left.”
cecilia
. . .
Less than a weekgoes by before being home 24/7 starts to get to me. Suffocates me, really. Maybe that’s a little dramatic. Probably not, but after everything with Austin, I don’t know. I guess I thought finishing the semester online was the right move. It would give me some space to breathe. To forget about all the awful things that happened to me. But instead of peace, it feels like I’ve traded one set of problems for another. I thought stepping away from campus, away from the chaos, would help.
But I think I made a mistake. A colossal one.
The noise in my head isn’t gone, it’s louder in the silence of this house.
Mom is a stay-at-home wife, and while she has charity functions and the mayor’s office stuff to keep her busy, lately it feels like I’ve suddenly become her full-time project. She’s always hovering, checking in, bringing me food like I’m going to waste away if she doesn’t. I get it—she’s worried. But I’m not a child. I know she means well, but she doesn’t exactly pick the right moments. Like in the middle of my online lectures, when she insists on staying for a chat.
I’ve given her my class schedule, but it doesn’t matter. I’m a body in the house. A warm body means company. Since most of my coursework is self-directed, she’s taken that as an open invitation to drag me along on errands or expect me to keep her company all day.
Wednesday, she drags me to gentle yoga at the women’s club. Thursday, it’s brunch with the ladies from Dad’s office. By Friday? I’m seconds from screaming into a pillow.
So I do. Quietly. Right before I leave to meet Adriana for coffee before Mom has a chance to add anything to my schedule.
Parking my Jeep, I head into The Howling Cup and find her already waiting for me at one of the corner tables.
“Hey,” I call out. “Did you already order?”
She lifts her mug in the air, and I stick my tongue out at her before dropping my bag on the empty seat across from her. “Rude. Give me two minutes to grab my own and I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time,” she says. Her tone is light, but her fingers are tapping lightly against her cup—like she’s keeping track of the seconds I’m gone.
I shrug it off and head to the counter to order my coffee.
I order their special—a white chocolate, huckleberry mocha made with white coffee. It’s surprisingly good and it definitely hits the spot. Making my way back to our table, I take my seat and eye Adriana curiously.
“Who are you looking at?” I ask.
Adriana’s eyes don’t move from the table across the room, and I follow her line of sight, curious. She’s staring at a group of guys, all seated together with an easy, laid-back vibe, their laughter carrying across the café. There’s a pile of hockey sticks resting against the wall next to them, the oversized gear bags thrown haphazardly around their feet making it pretty clear these guys are on the university hockey team.
But it’s one guy in particular who seems to have captured Adriana’s attention. He’s tall, with messy black hair that falls over his forehead, and even from where I’m sitting, I can see the sharp angle of his jaw. He’s got this flirty smile on his face, and the way he keeps glancing over at Adriana ... it’s like he’s just waiting for her to notice him back.
