Tom's POV
"Honestly… I don't want to," I admitted softly, my voice low, meeting her gaze for just a second before looking away.
Her eyes widened, pleading and desperate. "How is that fair, Tom? Why are you mad at me? Tell me so I can fix it," she said, her tone cracking like she was on the edge of breaking.
I shook my head, looking anywhere but her. "There's nothing to fix," I muttered, voice tight.
"Come on, Tom… this isn't fair. Please talk to me, at least let me try to fix it," she begged, her hands fidgeting, the desperation in her voice clawing at me.
I snapped before I could stop myself. "There is nothing for you to fix! You can't fix how I feel!" The words came out harsher than I wanted, a little too loud, too sharp.
I instantly regretted it, feeling that familiar gut punch of guilt hit me. I ran a hand through my hair and muttered, softer this time, "Just… forget it, okay? There's nothing to fix." I turned my head, hoping she wouldn't see the storm raging behind my eyes.
She didn't give up. "Tom, I want to try! How will you know if you don't tell me? At least let me try, let me answer the questions burning inside you. Let me try, please!" Her voice was trembling, raw and relentless.
Fuck. That broke me.
"Why… why did you leave? Why didn't you try to stay? Why… why didn't you say goodbye?" The questions tumbled out before I could stop them, fast and harsh, like I was spilling years of anger and hurt in one go. I looked down at the floor, avoiding her eyes, too afraid to let her see the mess I'd become.
"Why didn't you keep in touch? Why… why did you come back?" I whispered the last part, my voice cracking like a raw nerve, barely audible.
Each word felt like I was cutting open old wounds, but I couldn't stop myself. I needed her to hear it. Needed her to know the fucking chaos she'd left behind.
"Tom, I'm sorry I hurt you—" she started, her voice soft, shaky, like she was bracing for impact.
I cut her off before she could finish, the words ripping out of me before I could fucking stop them.
"You didn't hurt me," I said flatly, my jaw clenched so hard it ached. "You broke me. You fucking destroyed me."
I kept my eyes glued to the floor, to the stupid pattern in the carpet, anywhere but her face. If I looked at her, I knew I'd lose whatever thin control I had left.
"You left when we were supposed to start Millwood High together," I continued, my voice tightening with every word. "We talked about it for years, Cass. Years. Walking in together, sticking together, surviving that place side by side." I let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "And then you just… disappeared."
My hands curled into fists in my lap. "You left me alone. All alone," I said, the words burning on the way out. "You were my only friend, Cassie. The only one. And you fucking left me."
I swallowed hard, my throat tight, chest heavy like someone had dropped a brick on it. "I had to face high school by myself. I had to deal with the bullies, the looks, the whispers, all that shit—alone."
My voice wavered for just a second, but I forced it steady. "I had no one after you. No backup. No safe place. Just me."
I still didn't look at her. I couldn't. Because if I did, she'd see it—how much it still hurt, how deep the damage went, how the wound she left never really healed.
Her voice cracked, shaking with every word as she poured it out, each syllable a desperate stab at making me understand. "Tom, I'm sorry," she said, soft and raw, "I didn't mean to… I didn't plan to move, but I did. An apology can't change that, I know, but I tried—I fucking tried to reach out."
I still kept my gaze on the floor, jaw tight, fists clenching in my lap, the anger and hurt still simmering beneath the surface.
"I couldn't say goodbye," she continued, swallowing hard, "because my dad got the job in the spur of the moment. We just had to leave. But I did try to call. I did try to email. When we left, I lost my phone, and when I got a new one, I couldn't reach you. Your phone, your email—nothing went through. I even wrote letters, but I got nothing back."