The Replay (Boys of Richland #3)

11. Cecilia

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.

The doorbell rings, and I rush downstairs, tugging the door open to find Gabriel standing there, looking effortlessly sexy in low-slung jeans and a fitted white t-shirt. My eyes can’t help but sweep over his broad shoulders, the way the fabric pulls tight across his chest.

No sexy thoughts, Cecilia. We’re taking things slow, not daydreaming about how to jump his bones.

“Hey,” I say, grinning despite my nerves.

His smile is just as big. “You ready?”

Before I can answer, the sound of a car door slamming pulls our attention. I turn just in time to see my attorney, Mr. Ayala, stepping out of his sedan, his expression grim. My stomach tightens. This can’t be good.

Gabriel’s brow furrows. “Were you expecting him today?”

“No.” My voice comes out more uncertain than I’d like.

I step aside, and Gabriel follows me into the house, his expression leery at the unexpected guest. The air feels suddenly too thick, the easy mood Gabriel and I had just moments ago shattered.

“Ms. Russo, Mr. Herrera,” Mr. Ayala greets us. “Do you have a moment?” The question is directed at me, but it feels like a dismissal for Gabriel.

“We were actually about to head out,” Gabriel interjects, his tone casual, but I don’t miss the edge to it. “But we’ve got a few minutes. Right?” He glances at me, his smile tight, as if asking for permission to stay.

“Yeah.” I manage. Whatever this is, I’m not ready. “What’s up?”

Mr. Ayala doesn’t seem happy about having an audience, which should’ve been my first warning.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Mr. Ayala begins, his voice clipped. “I spoke with Mr. Holt’s counsel this morning, and there’s been talk of a plea agreement.”

My stomach drops. Already? Jaymin didn’t waste any time.

Gabriel shakes his head in disbelief. “No way,” he snaps, his voice rising. “Tell them to shove their deal where the sun doesn’t shine. Cecilia’s not about to accept whatever bullshit offer they’re making.”

“Actually …” Shit. I was not prepared for this.

Gabriel’s head snaps toward me, his golden brown eyes darkening. “Did you already know about this?”

I shift on my feet, my pulse quickening, avoiding his gaze. I do not want to have this conversation right now. “I ... Umm. Sort of. I spoke with Jaymin Holt last night and she offered five years for Austin, three for Gregory and Parker?—”

“Fucking hell!” Gabriel’s voice explodes, his hand flying to his hair in frustration. “You talked to her? That’s where you were?” His eyes bore into mine, and I flinch.

My pulse quickens. His anger is a palpable force, like a heat wave pressing down on me. “It’s not what you think?—”

“You can’t seriously be considering this!” His hands rake through his hair, his eyes blazing. “He’s facing fifteen years to life, Cecilia. You’re honestly considering letting that asshole get off with five? You can’t trust anything that comes out of that family’s mouth. You know that. I can’t believe you’d?—”

“Gabe—”

“After everything he did? Why would you even agree to speak with them?” His voice is raw and dripping with disappointment.

I flinch again. I didn’t expect him to take it well, but the intensity of his disapproval … it cuts deeper than I thought.

“I’m not doing this for him.” My voice cracks under the weight of my frustration. “I’m doing it for me.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightens, his chest rising and falling as he tries to rein in his temper. His eyes search mine, disbelief flickering there. “For you?” he mutters, low and dangerous. “How is this for you?”

I step forward, hands clenched at my sides. “If we go to trial, there’s no guarantee Holt gets more than five years. And Gregory and Parker? They walk without this deal. I can’t live with that, Gabriel. I won’t. Not if there’s another way.” My voice strengthens, resolve unfurling in my chest.

Gabriel mutters a curse under his breath, his body tense. “You should have talked to me. You know how worried I was last night. We all were.”

“I know,” I whisper, my throat tight. “And I was going to. But you stormed off, remember? I couldn’t exactly call you when she showed up, and even if I could’ve, you wouldn’t have answered.”

Silence stretches between us, the weight of my words sinking in. Gabriel’s eyes lock on mine. It was a low blow, and part of me regrets it, but it’s still the truth.

“Tell him,” I say, turning to Mr. Ayala. “Explain what happens if we go to trial.”

Mr. Ayala clears his throat. “A trial like this is going to be long and arduous, with no guarantee when it comes to sentencing. Without this deal, it’s likely that the other boys walk free. The charges are too light and for both boys, it’s only their first offense. Neither has a record and both come from well-known families. The prosecutor will opt to focus their efforts on Mr. Holt and wash their hands clean of the others. This arrangement ensures all three perpetrators face jail time.”

Gabriel’s nostrils flare, his hands now fisted at his sides. “But five years? It isn’t enough. Holt will get out, and then what?”

I swallow hard, my voice barely audible. “I’ll be free of him. I’ll have finished college. I can move. Start over.”

Gabriel turns away, glaring out the window, his frustration simmering in the air between us.

“If we go to trial,” Mr Ayala says, “there is always the risk of Austin Holt walking free. I’m very good at my job,” he assures us, “but you should both understand that being found ‘not guilty,’ is always a possibility in situations like this.”

Which is exactly the reason I’m giving thought to Jaymin’s offer at all.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” I admit, my voice shaky. I don’t want to fight with him, but this is still my decision. “But this is my choice. My life.”

Gabriel finally looks back at me, his eyes a mix of anger and hurt. “We’re supposed to be in this together, Cecilia. You said you wanted a real relationship, but this—” He shakes his head. “You can’t shut me out of the big decisions like this.”

Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back, standing my ground. “I can when they’re my decisions to make.” My voice thickens, but I push through. “I know you don’t want to hear that, and I’m sorry. I really was going to tell you. But I need you to understand that I’m doing what I need to do to move on. I want us to be a team. To be on the same page. But I also need you to support me, even when I’m making decisions you don’t necessarily agree with.”

Gabriel’s shoulders sag, some of the fight leaving him. “Right,” he mutters. “Looks like you’ve already made up your mind.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I think I have.”

He steps forward, pulling me into his arms, and I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in.

“I just need this to be over,” I murmur, my voice barely holding steady.

Gabriel presses his lips to the top of my head. His touch is gentler now, but there’s still tension coiled in his body. “I know, baby. I’m trying to understand that. But I also need you to understand that if we’re going to make this work, you have to start letting me in.”

I close my eyes, trying to block out the mess of emotions swirling inside me. “I’ll try.”