Chapter 65 Chapter 65
Friday came with consequences.
Cass felt it before she saw it. The air in school was heavier, charged with aftershocks from the night before. Jace’s name was everywhere now. Not just whispered, not just admired. Respected. The kind that stuck and didn’t fade by Monday.
She walked in with Lena at her side, their steps in sync. Posters from the tournament were already up. Someone had scribbled JACE WOODS MVP in bold marker across one of them.
“Wild,” Lena muttered. “The quiet one always ends up terrifying.”
Cass smiled faintly but her chest felt tight. Pride mixed with worry in a way she didn’t know how to untangle.
Marvin didn’t show up for first period.
Or second.
By lunch, everyone noticed.
“He lost it at home,” someone whispered behind Cass in line.
“He got benched for the weekend,” another said.
“No way.”
Cass didn’t turn around. She didn’t want pieces of Marvin’s chaos anymore.
She sat with Lena and a few other students who had slowly begun orbiting their table. Not friends exactly, but not strangers either. It felt new. Fragile. Real.
Zayelle joined them halfway through lunch, sliding into the seat across from Cass like she belonged there. She looked perfect as always, but there was something sharper behind her eyes today.
“You good?” Zayelle asked Cass directly.
Cass nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Zayelle studied her for a beat, then smiled. “You don’t look weak. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Lena raised her brows, amused. Cass blinked, surprised.
Before she could respond, the cafeteria doors slammed open.
Marvin.
He looked wrecked. Hair messy. Eyes red. Jaw tight with barely restrained fury. The room went quiet.
He didn’t shout. Didn’t climb tables. He walked straight toward Jace.
Cass stood instantly. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Jace rose too, calm but alert.
“You think you won,” Marvin said quietly, voice shaking. “You think they’re cheering for you now.”
Jace met his eyes. “This isn’t about winning.”
Marvin laughed, brittle. “Everything is about winning.”
Their father appeared seconds later, gripping Marvin’s arm hard. “We’re leaving.”
Marvin yanked free. “You always choose him.”
That hit harder than any punch.
The room held its breath.
Jace didn’t respond. He just watched his brother unravel, sadness flickering briefly through his eyes before he turned away.
Marvin left in a storm of whispers.
The bell rang.
That night, Cass sat on her bed with her diary open, pen hovering.
Victory doesn’t feel loud.
It feels heavy.
Like someone else paid the price.
Her phone buzzed.
Jace: Are you okay?
Cass stared at the screen, then typed back.
Cass: I was going to ask you the same.
There was a pause.
Jace: I think I will be. Just not tonight.
Cass swallowed.
Cass: I’m here if you need quiet.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Jace: Thank you.
Saturday loomed, uncertain and raw.
And Cass knew one thing for sure.
This wasn’t the end of Marvin’s story.
But it was the moment Jace stopped being afraid of his own.
The next day was so tedious
It unfolded slow and unsettled, like the world was walking on glass.
Cass woke late, the house unusually quiet. Sunlight filtered through her curtains, but it did nothing to lift the weight pressing on her chest. Her phone lay face down beside her pillow. She hadn’t checked it yet. Part of her wanted to stay suspended in this moment before reality rushed back in.
Downstairs, she heard her mom moving around, humming softly. That sound alone told Cass everything. Whatever storm had lived in this house for years was finally losing its grip.
Cass pulled on a hoodie and padded into the kitchen. Her mom looked up, smiling in a way that felt earned.
“Morning,” her mom said. “I made pancakes.”
Cass blinked. “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”
Her mom laughed, the sound light and real. “I’m trying something new. Joy.”
Cass smiled despite herself and sat down. They ate quietly for a while, comfortable silence filling the space.
“I might go out later,” her mom said carefully. “Nolan asked.”
Cass nodded. “Okay.”
No tension. No awkward explanations. Just honesty.
Later that afternoon, Cass found herself driving without a destination, music low, thoughts loud. She parked near the lake, the same place she used to come with her old friend before she moved away. The memories tugged at her, bittersweet and sharp.
She pulled her diary from her bag and flipped to a fresh page.
Everything feels paused today.
Like the world is waiting to see what I’ll do next.
I don’t know if I’m brave or just tired of being hurt.
She hesitated, then wrote the name she’d been circling for days.
Jace.
I don’t know where he fits in my life.
But I know I notice when he’s gone quiet.
And that scares me more than Marvin ever did.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, making her jump.
Jace.
You busy?
She stared at the screen for a long second before typing back.
Not really.
A few minutes later, his car pulled into the lot. He stepped out slowly, like he wasn’t sure he was welcome. His shoulders looked heavier today, posture guarded.
They stood facing each other, unsure how to bridge the space.
“Hey,” Cass said softly.
“Hey.”
Silence stretched, but it wasn’t empty.
“I just needed air,” Jace admitted. “Home’s… not great.”
Cass nodded. “Mine used to be like that.”
They sat on the hood of his car, not touching, just sharing space. The lake rippled quietly in front of them.
“I don’t hate my brother,” Jace said suddenly. “I hate what he’s becoming.”
Cass swallowed. “You’re allowed to.”
He glanced at her. “You don’t think I’m responsible?”
“No,” she said firmly. “You didn’t make his choices.”
Something in his expression loosened.
“I don’t want you caught in the middle,” he said.
“I already was,” Cass replied gently. “And I’m still standing.”
He smiled faintly at that.
Saturday night came with restless energy. Cass lay in bed replaying moments she didn’t want to name. Jace’s voice. His honesty. The way he looked relieved just sitting beside her.
Across town, Jace stood in the garage again, staring at the same wall. Marvin hadn’t come home yet. Their father sat in the living room, silent and distant.
Jace checked his phone.
Cass: You good?
He exhaled slowly.
Jace: Getting there.
Sunday arrived quieter but no less heavy.
Cass spent the morning with Lena, sprawled across her bed, half laughing, half venting.
“I swear,” Lena said dramatically, “if one more person asks me if Marvin’s okay, I’m throwing hands.”
Cass smiled weakly. “You’re terrifying when protective.”
“As I should be.”
That afternoon, Cass helped her mom pick out a dress. Not for anything specific. Just because.
“I feel like I’m starting over,” her mom admitted.
Cass hugged her. “You deserve that.”
Sunday evening crept in, soft and reflective.
Cass opened her diary one last time before bed.
This weekend didn’t fix anything.
But it showed me what healing might look like.
Messy. Slow. Honest.
She closed the book and turned off the light.
Across town, Jace lay awake staring at the ceiling, thinking about the way Cass listened without trying to fix him.
Monday was coming.
And for the first time, neither of them felt like running from it.