Chapter Twenty-Six Bryden （Mountain） #2
Collins: Why does anyone do anything? Because they can. Just leave it alone.
“Look at me,” I say, more sternly than I intend to.
She does, and that’s when I see it. The pain. The fear. Something snaps in my chest, something deep in my subconscious telling me that whatever she’s holding is enough to break her if she lets it.
Bryden: What. Happened.
I stare at the phone, even though she’s next to me, my pulse racing, fingers tingling.
The silence starts to mount, and pressure builds behind my eyes.
I’m usually a patient person. Things don’t bother me, don’t set my nerves on fire.
I don’t get involved in things that don’t pertain to me, but something about Sam’s stillness feels eerie. Feels haunting.
Collins: Haven’t you heard? I raged out and broke his knee.
Bryden: Sam.
She holds the device, her grasp tightening like it’s her lifeline. Then she takes a breath, her shoulders shaking. With a sway of her head, Sam punches into the keypad.
I glance at her, catching a glimpse of something playing on her features. But it’s the uneasy, now awkward shifting from Jackson that I catch from the corner of my eye.
Collins: Vault.
I breathe.
Bryden: Done.
She braves another peek at me before focusing on her phone again. Her fingers trembling slightly as she types.
Collins: You have to promise not to get upset. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.
My heart stops.
Bryden: I promise.
I send, though I’m not sure it’s one I can keep.
Collins: He attacked me.
Those three little words stare back at me, and I stop breathing.
Collins: That night at your party, he offered me a drink. I said no, but he insisted.
The next line tightens something inside me until there’s no slack left.
Collins: So I took it but I didn’t drink it.
Collins: Then he asked me to follow him outside to smoke. I went but drugs aren’t my thing.
My jaw locks, my pulse slamming through my neck. I don’t want her to continue, can’t stomach knowing what’s next, but I need to know.
Bryden: Did he hurt you?
Sucking in a breath, I brace myself.
Collins: No.
The exhale that escapes me is a heavy one, a grateful one. But my spirit tells me there’s more. And it’s right.
Collins: But, when I wouldn’t drink, he got upset. That’s when I saw that he’d slipped something in my cup. He got defensive before I even called him on it, then he snapped. Got aggressive, started cursing me, grabbing me.
My hand jolts out, white-knuckling the desk to ground me.
Reading this sends my mind racing and I think back to last term, to the party that got shut down.
Someone claimed to have been raped. They never shared who made the accusation, or who did it.
And then it was labeled a lie, swept away like it never happened.
No charges ever came about, only a curfew to reprimand us for daring to break the rules.
Collins: And when he tried to choke me, I blanked. I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I swear. But I just saw darkness and I wasn’t about to let him hurt me.
Bryden: I believe you. And I hate myself for not asking the truth sooner.
She smiles gingerly.
Collins: What would you have done? Fought him?
Bryden: We need to report him.
Collins: You don’t think I tried? I did. But of course, he lied, and they believed him. And now I’m sentenced to work with the team until the end of the season as punishment.
Bryden: What do you mean they believed him?
Collins: He’s rich, Bryden. And I’m a nobody next to him. Who do you think they’ll believe? Not some poor girl from the “wrong” side of town. It’s a boys’ club and women are just collateral damage.
I want to tear this desk in half. I want to put my fist through his face. No, I want to shove that smirk he wears down his throat.
Bryden: Then I’ll handle it.
Collins: And get caught up in something that could mess up everything you and your family’s worked for? No. I know they love you around here, being the best goalie and all, but please don’t.
My nerves get the best of me, and my leg bounces under the desk, the metal bracket digging into my thigh. The pressure’s the only thing keeping me grounded and from losing my mind.
I could kill him.
He touched her, tried to hurt her. He intended to rape her. And she’s had to just exist in his orbit, pretending that he didn’t violate her.
Jackson laughs at something behind us, and something inside me fractures. Red lines my vision, my skin growing hotter by the second. I shift, legs tense, body halfway rising from my chair when Sam’s hand rests on my wrist. Her touch is warm, her hand small against my forearm, but it anchors me.
“Don’t,” she whispers.
I look at her, my blood still boiling, and she squeezes before pulling away to send another text.
Collins: Please leave it alone.
My teeth grind as I reply.
Bryden: He deserves to rot in jail.
Collins: But he won’t. I already tried to tell, and they have made my life hell in retaliation. It’ll only make it worse. Forget I told you.
Bryden: I can’t promise that.
Collins: I’m fine, Bryden. I swear. He wasn’t successful and I got away. I just need to get through the season, and it’ll all be over.
Fine? She keeps saying it as if to convince herself more than me. But it doesn’t erase the truth.
Bryden: And he gets off unscathed. You should have broken more than a knee.
Then there’s a pause, a long and heavy one.
Collins: Please. Let it go. As my friend.
Collins: You promised.
No. Don’t say it. Don’t—
Collins: Vault, remember.
My grip firms, knuckles bleaching white as the screen protector cracks against the pressure. A war rages in my chest—rage against control.
I hate that she knows I won’t break her trust. That’s why it exists, right? To give us both the space to speak freely, no judgment, no interrogation.
Bryden: Vault.
I shut my eyes, breathing deep and slow, because if I don’t, I’ll explode. So, instead, I sit back, shoving the pieces of my temper down my throat. It kills me, but I won’t be the reason her world burns faster than it already is.
But if he so much as looks at her wrong again, I’ll crush him.
Vault or not.
Sam sets her eyes back on Professor Wilson, but I leave mine on her. She’s probably the strongest person I know, and from this moment on, she’ll never have to go it alone again.
Typing into my phone, I send her another message.
Bryden: It’s the latter.
Collins: Huh?
Bryden: You are fierce.