Page 37 of The Replay

Dom

I don't get to inspect the room too much. All I see is a work table against the wall, five chairs on the three sides available, a whiteboard on the wall, and a poster on the side.

Tunnel vision warps the view, until all I can see is Mariana standing in front of me.

My nostrils flare. "What makes you think I want to talk to your family?"

"Don't you want to balance the scales somehow? Prove to them they were wrong about you? I don't think you've changed so much that you wouldn't take the opportunity if you had it. With Cora and me working for the Strike, you'll have a chance."

My face twists into scorn. "I don't need to talk to them to do that. They interfered with my life enough. I won't give them another chance."

Whenever Mariana and I were alone, we were in our own world. A place where the only rules were those we made for ourselves. Walks across campus, study sessions in the library that devolved to kisses and sometimes more, andstaying up way too late just so we could steal a few extra minutes with each other. It was the stuff romance movies were made of.

It all changed when her parents entered the picture. They'd call sometimes, and she'd stress. Whenever a rare family dinner appeared on her calendar, she'd get quiet. It would burst our bubble. I would join her if invited, only to learn they saw me as a casual fling. Barely holding on to the boyfriend title, when we were meant to break up. Never so much as being rude or actively antagonizing me, but always dropping a comment about Mariana's future in the family's charity organization. Or how unpredictable a college athlete's life was, which was why they pushed their sons to graduate with degrees that would serve them in their post-playing career. Which was their subtle way to say they didn't think I was doing the same.

Of course it would end in tears, when the time came for her to move to England as planned. When I held her in my arms as she cried, and I agonized over whether I should ask her to stay or keep our relationship going or… or listening to her dad explaining the most loving thing was to watch her pack and say nothing. Take her to the airport and kiss her softly one last time. seeing her walk through customs. Waiting until her plane officially took off. With my heart breaking into smaller and smaller pieces, until I couldn't glue them back together properly again.

Yeah, no. I'm not doing any of that again.

She stares up at me from under the ridge of her brow. "I don't have the same privilege."

"You do. You could choose distance."

"What do you think I'm doing in Seattle?"

"Maybe you need more distance. Have you thought about New Zealand? You could try rugby next. Then I wouldn't have to deal with them myself."

"You're telling me to leave?" Her voice comes out thin.

I shrug. "You're leaving in the spring anyway."

She pales. Her lips tense. My careless comment hurt her. The guilt that cuts through me makes my heart bleed, like a blade tore a clean slash through it. My words were sharper than I realized.

"Shit. I'm sorry." I rub a hand down my face, hard. "All this— it was meant to be easier."

"Why? How?" A pained line marrs her brow. "None of this was ever going to be easy. I'm trying to rebuild my life. Proving I have what it takes to do what I want. But I'm doing it with a broken heart too!"

I flinch. Does she mean Henry? Fuck, what did he mean to her? Did she love him?

Because if she means me, then…

It doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything.

I come closer. "I worked hard to give my mom and mi abuela the life they deserve after so much. To make my life something I could be proud of and use it to take care of them. Of myself. I had to buckle down to claim it after you left and, after you hung up on me? I had to push myself to a whole new level. But I did it, Mari. I did."

She opens her mouth to reply, but I continue before she can.

I take one more step towards her. "Now you're back and it feels like all I've achieved was nothing but a mirage. I'm lashing out and I hate it. You're cold like you never were. I have to pretend I don't care you're becoming friends with my friends. Hearing you talk about sleeping around, dressing sexy as hell every day where I have to see it, so proper it makes me want to tear your clothes off. You called me an asshole the other day, but what about you? You're just as harsh as I am these days. Now I have to think about the people who didn't think I was good enough for you and then went and tore us apart?"

She takes a step toward me, mouth pressed into a thin line, and hands fisted at her sides. "I know my family isn't the most understanding. And yeah, they don't think twice of pushing me to do what they think is best. But they didn't break us up."

"Your dad pointed out all the ways I didn't deserve you and told me to let you go. Your mom sent me an article of you smiling with your fiancé so I would leave you alone."

"You and I were never meant to continue past my graduation! And while they shouldn't have done what they did, you chose to listen. Just like I chose to go to England, and to change my plans a few months later. You and I were adults, Dom. I own my mistakes. I'm trying to fix them. What about you?"

"You would have hated me even more if I hadn’t stepped aside after calling you."

"Hate you? I didn't hate you. I loved you so much. But, God, I was so hurt."