Page 3 of Unbreakable

“Good. You should.” He needs to know what people like him do to others, how it affects people. They don’t all get back up like nothing happened, they cry, they think things they shouldn’t, and he needs to know that.

Before he can respond, Lennox claps her hands together. “Dinner’s ready! Everyone to the table!”

She’s orchestrated this perfectly, I realize, and it’s too late to do anything about it. Forced us into proximity, but not forced us to interact beyond basic civility. It’s Lennox’s way of being helpful, pushing us together while giving us an escape route.

I sit across from Tyler, which is either a blessing or a curse depending on how you look at it. I can see his every move, can watch him interact with the group, and can observe the way he’s actually trying to be part of the friend group without dominating the conversation or making it about him.

Which is either genuine change or excellent acting. I haven’t decided which yet.

“So Cassie,” Marcus says, “how’s the literary magazine coming along?”

“We’re working on the spring issue. Taking submissions through next week. You should all submit something.”

“I don’t have anything literary to submit,” Ryder says.

“Neither do I,” Tyler adds.

I take a sip of wine. “Some people have the self-awareness to recognize their limitations.”

It’s not subtle. Everyone at the table catches it. Lennox shoots me a warning look. Carter suddenly becomes very interested in his food. Priya looks like she’s trying not to laugh.

Tyler, to his credit, doesn’t react defensively. Just nods and says, “Fair.”

Which somehow makes it worse.

If he’d gotten angry, if he’d made excuses, if he’d been a dick about it, I could hate him more comfortably. But he’s just… accepting it. Taking the hit. Acting like my anger is deserved.

Because it is deserved.

After dinner, while everyone’s in the living room watching a movie, I sneak into the kitchen to make tea. I need a moment away from the group, away from Tyler’s presence, away from my own complicated feelings.

Of course, he follows me.

“Hey,” he says, appearing in the doorway like a ghost I didn’t want to manifest.

“Hey.”

“Can we talk?” He asks looking over his shoulder to see if anyone is watching us.

“We’re talking.”

“Seriously. Can we talk? About sophomore year?”

I turn around, hands on my hips. “Why? So you can apologize again? Save it. I’ve heard the apology. It was noted. It doesn’t change anything.”

“I know it doesn’t-”

“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you think saying sorry is supposed to fix everything. Like apologizing erases the fact that you stood there and did nothing while your teammates made me feel like shit.” I take a step back, because if I get closer to him I might slap him, just to make myself feel a little better.

His expression doesn’t change, but I see something flicker in his eyes.

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “An apology doesn’t erase it. It doesn’t undo it. Doesn’t make it okay.”

“So why are you here? Why are you trying to be part of this friend group when you know I hate you?”

“Because I’m trying to be a better person. Not for you. Not to make you forgive me. Just… because I need to be.”

I want to laugh at that statement, I want to mock him for it. I want to tell him that his self-improvement project is meaningless to me. I want to maintain the wall of anger that’s kept me safe for the past two years.