“I’m fine. Really. I just need a few minutes. Promise.”
He hesitates, then relents. “Only a few minutes. You swear?”
I raise two fingers. “Scout’s honor. I’m a big girl.”
With a roll of his eyes, Felix shifts into drive. “Take care, Cecilia.”
I watch him go, standing there until his taillights disappear around the corner. Then it’s just me, the shadows, and the hollow ache in my chest.It’s going to be okay.I repeat it over and over, trying to convince myself it’s the truth.
Giving Gabriel space is the right thing to do. An easy thing, really. One that requires zero effort on my part.
So why does it feel impossible?
Gabriel told me to back off, and I’m going to respect that.
My fingers tighten around my phone. I hate this. Hate that I’m spiraling, obsessing, waiting for a call that’s not going to come tonight. It shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t feel likewe’re at opposite ends of the world growing further and further away from one another.
But it does.
Why is this so freaking hard?
It’s not like we weretogethertogether. We weren’t dating. I’m getting so worked up when this doesn’t have to be a thing.
We tried the friends-with-benefits thing. It didn’t work. Then we tried just being friends.
Clearly that also failed.
Maybe the best thing for the both of us really is a clean break.
But the thought of losing Gabriel ... I can’t. I’m not ready for that. Maybe that’s selfish, but I don’t care. I don’t know how to quit him. And even if I did, I don’t think I could go through with it.
I take a few steps toward the front door, but anxiety sinks its claws into my chest.
My parents. Shit.
Mom knows I went with Gabriel to the wedding. She was practically giddy when I left. She doesn’t know where we stand now, but she’s aware things have been rocky between us, especially after the whole Austin ordeal. She asks about him a lot—always eager to remind me how he hasn’t been around as much. Gabriel is the dream package to her, and I get it, he’s amazing. But it’s complicated, way more complicated than she thinks.
Tonight, she was so excited that I was "giving him another chance." Her words, not mine. If I walk in right now, she’ll know something’s off. It’s only been an hour since I left. The questions will start before I even close the door.
Why are you home so early?
Where’s Gabriel?
Why didn’t he walk you to the door?
Is everything okay?
Did you two have a fight?
Why do you look like you’ve been crying?
I’d have to tell her what happened because I’m too tired and emotionally drained to come up with a plausible lie. And if I tell her the truth, she’ll freak out. Dad will be dragged into it, and suddenly, my mental health will become their main concern. Mom’ll suggest calling my therapist—just to be safe—and then it’ll become a whole thing.
No. I can’t deal with that. Not tonight. Not after everything else.
I take a step back, my chest tightening, the air feeling too thick. Shit. Not now, Cecilia. Get it together.
But the panic keeps building, clawing at my insides. My heart races, my breaths come too fast, too shallow. I can see my dad’s worried face already, the fear in my mom’s eyes.
