Austin is being released from the hospital tomorrow afternoon, and Mr. Ayala has assured me he’ll be taken into custody immediately.
Parker and Gregory were released on bail last week. No surprise there. But I have a restraining order against them in place and Mr. Ayala assures me I’m safe. If either of them violatethe restraining order, they’ll go back to jail until their trials, and he’s confident neither man will risk it when they’re facing less severe charges than Austin is.
He prepared me for the possibility of one or both of them being offered a plea deal, and I think I’ve finally come to terms with that.
Austin won’t be given the same opportunity. His charges are more severe. Attempted murder. Assault. He won’t be offered bail, and he’s looking at a long time behind bars. A serious relief.
All three men have also been expelled from PacNorth and kicked out of Zeta Pi. Regardless of what happens in court, they don’t have a future at PacNorth, and I won’t have to see them again.
Not on campus, at least.
“Cecilia,” my mother calls from downstairs. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m fine,” I call back, not bothering to look up from my book. My teachers were able to accommodate my request to transition to online only and the reading load has been intense, but I’m grateful for the distraction and even more grateful that I didn’t have to drop out completely. I wouldn’t have minded so much before, but with the swim team, I’m not willing to give my spot up.
I missed practice that first week after the assault, but I’ve been there every day since.
It’s the one place where I feel a little bit normal.
Mom is back to hovering again, the way she did after my suicide attempt. If I thought it was bad before, it’s nothing like this.
She barely leaves the house, and when she does, it’s only ever if my dad happens to be home. He’s taken to working more from his home office, likely at her request. They know everything that’s happened now and I guess I thought it would help, andin some ways, it did. But it’s also made them worry more. If Mr. Ayala delivers bad news, like when he told me Parker and Gregory made bail, my parents started watching me like I was a ticking time bomb.
I wish I could reassure them I’m going to be okay. That I’m not going to do anything reckless. But my words hold little weight when they’ve seen me lose myself before.
Sometimes when Mom thinks she’s alone, I find her crying in her room or sniffling in the kitchen. She’s having a hard time digesting everything that’s happened, and she and Dad both keep apologizing as if what Austin did to me could possibly be their fault.
I’ve tried to tell them it isn’t. That I don’t blame them at all. But Mom insists a mother is supposed to know when something is amiss. She blames herself for not realizing there was more to my suicide attempt. For assuming I was overwhelmed with college or merely depressed. I don’t know how to make her pain go away.
“Are you sure?” she tries again. “I can make some lasagna. Your favorite.”
“I’m not hungry,” I assure her. “But thank you.”
I can hear her sigh all the way from the living room. She’s trying, and I’m grateful for that.
But sometimes, I just need to be alone.
CHAPTER 66
CECILIA
It’s getting late when the sound of murmured voices from downstairs trickles into my room. Glancing at the clock, my brows furrow together, taking note of the time before I pad down the hallway.
Leaning over the banister, I peer downstairs, the dim light casting long shadows across the foyer below. Lately, it’s become a familiar routine, these late-night visits from Dad’s campaign manager, Mr. Ayala, or Officer Koch.
They seem to be the three recurring presences these past couple of weeks.
“Thank you,” Gabriel’s voice floats up the stairs, his tone tinged with a sense of urgency. “I promise, I’ll be quick.”
The familiar sound of his voice catches me off guard, my breath catching in my throat as I strain to hear whatever he says next.
My heart skips a beat, the mere sound of his presence sending a jolt of anticipation through me.
What is he doing here?
Seconds later, his steps are pounding up the stairs, the rhythm of his stride echoing in the quiet of the house. My pulsequickens, a flutter of nerves dancing in my chest as I stand frozen at the top of the stairs, dumbfounded by his unexpected appearance.
Gabriel clears the last step, his figure looming large in the dim light, his honey-brown eyes drinking me in like a man dying of thirst. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down my spine, and I swallow hard, trying to steady my racing heart as he moves closer.
