Page 5 of Unbreakable

I see Cassie again a week later at the library.

She’s at one of the study desks, laptop open, what looks like literary magazine submissions spread in front of her. Her dark hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she’s wearing glasses that make her look both serious and completely sexy.

I should leave, I should pretend I didn’t see her. I should maintain the distance that seems to make her most comfortable. Instead, I do the stupid thing and I approach her.

“Hey,” I say.

She looks up, and her expression immediately hardens. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry to bother you. I just… I read your latest opinion piece. In the paper.” I’m hoping talking about her work is the easy way for her to talk to me.

“Great. I’m sure it confirmed all your terrible opinions about hockey culture.” She says not looking up from her work.

“It was good. Really good. The way you wrote about the cost of silence, that really hit me.”

She sets down her pen with exaggerated care, like she’s trying very hard not to throw it at me, and looks at me. “Did it?”

“Yeah. It made me think about sophomore year. About all the times I knew something was wrong and said nothing.”

“Congratulations on your self-reflection.”

“Cassie—”

“No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come here, interrupt my work, and act like reading something I wrote somehow makes you less complicit in what happened. You were there. You could have said something. You didn’t. That’s on you. You have no idea what it was like for me.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because it seems like you think having regrets about it somehow absolves you. Like the fact that you feel bad about being a shitty person means you’re not a shitty person anymore. You have no idea how I cried myself to sleep because everyone thought the rumors were true, how I thought about leaving, how I thought about-” I stop before I say too much to him.

“I don’t think that.”

“Then what are you doing here, Tyler? Why do you keep trying to talk to me? Why do you keep showing up to group hangouts knowing I’m going to be there? Why can’t you just accept that I don’t want your apologies or your self-improvement narrative?”

I should leave. Should let her win this argument. Should respect her anger and her boundaries.

“Because I can’t,” I say quietly. “Because you deserve better than my silence, and I can’t undo that, but I can try to be someone who wouldn’t make that choice again. And maybe that means you keep hating me. Maybe you will hate me forever. But at least I’m trying.”

“Your trying isn’t my responsibility.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t forgive you.”

“I know.”

“Good.” She turns back to her laptop, dismissing me completely. “Now please leave me alone.”

I stand there for a moment just staring at her. How did I never see how beautiful she was, how smart she was. Why is it always too late when you see the big picture?

I walk away, and think about what Cassie said about silence. About the cost of it. And I realize that if I back off now, if I let her push me away completely, I’m making the same choice I made sophomore year.

The choice to prioritize comfort over doing the right thing.

So I won’t back off. Not aggressively. Not in a way that disrespects her clearly stated boundaries. But I won’t disappear either.

Because some people are worth fighting for, even if they don’t want you to.

Chapter 3