Chapter 17 Brady
Brady
Today had already been unbelievable, but being held hostage by a ghost less than five minutes ago had nothing on what I was looking at right now.
The way the river tilted upward across the mountain, the way it rushed at an angle so steep that it made me feel like it could’ve fallen on me at any moment.
But it didn’t.
It rushed past Collins and me. The sound of it terrified me, but it also made me feel like I was alive—like the river was the blood rushing through my veins, and its roar was my heartbeat in my ears.
I’d never seen anything like this. I didn’t know the planet could even create something so extraordinary.
It made me realize how little I’d really seen of it before this, and now I wanted to see so much more, all of the things like this that made me feel like I was totally and completely insignificant.
This wasn’t what I’d expected when Collins had told me we were going to the river, but honestly, nothing about her has been as I’d expected, and I loved it. Everything felt bigger and more substantial with her around—like my world was dialed up to eleven.
“Holy shit,” I whispered even though I knew Collins couldn’t hear me over the rush of the water. I squeezed her hand instead—once I realized I was still holding it.
She squeezed mine back.
I’d spent most of today invading Collins’s personal space, like when I’d grabbed her waist before she jumped from the edge of the forest to the rock we were now standing on.
The gap between had been tiny—just a little over a foot, probably—but it was big enough that she had to do a little hop, which felt more than a little dangerous.
It took my brain less than a second to think of all the things that could go wrong because of that little hop, and it was fucking terrifying.
So I pulled her back to me, and it felt so natural—to have her that close.
I wished she were still there, even though the moment had passed.
I had meant what I said in the truck: I liked her.
And I think part of me liked her from the second she pepper-sprayed me, and now, the rest of me was catching up.
It was like I was helpless against the forces that were pushing us together—like it was all supernatural, and I wasn’t just talking about the ghosts.
When I looked at her now, she wasn’t looking at the natural wonder around us. She was looking at me.
“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” she yelled over the water. When I nodded, she laughed. “Way better than the boring old overlook, yeah? Worth a sinister spirit run-in?” I nodded again—stunned silent, apparently.
Don’t get me wrong, the regular-schmegular Sweetwater River overlook was beautiful—clear views of the back side of the Elk Spine mountain range, looked beautiful at sunset and all that, but it wasn’t this.
This was…fuck, this was a miracle.
“Do you want to sit for a minute?” Collins yelled, and pointed back toward the forest ledge that we’d jumped from.
“Yeah,” I yelled back. It took everything in me to let go of her hand, but I was going to make sure I went first this time and caught her on the other side—or so I thought. But Collins just hopped back after me with ease. There went my excuse to touch her.
Collins sat down and let her feet hang over the ledge—which was enough to give me another heart attack.
Apparently, she did not have a healthy fear of heights like I did.
When I sat down, I kept my legs crossed and as far away from the ledge as I could get.
“Ghosts he can handle. Feet dangling, though, hard pass,” Collins said, talking more to herself than me, as she handed me a clear plastic bag with a sandwich in it.
I didn’t have to open it to know it was her favorite snack—a peanut butter and honey sandwich sprinkled with mini M&M’s.
It was growing on me, too.
“How did you find this?” I asked Collins as I took a bite of my sandwich.
She shrugged. “I was on the road one day, saw the trail, and decided to follow it. That’s how I find everything in this town—curiosity and blind faith that nothing is going to kill me.
” I tried not to think about the run-in back there: how it felt like my bones had been replaced with shards of ice or the look on Collins’s face when I told her I couldn’t move.
“I didn’t really have a lot of friends growing up,” Collins continued. “The ones I did have were because I was Clarke’s sister—not because I was me—so I spent a lot of time exploring on my own.”
“Leith told me that you and Clarke were the only girls in your class until Sadie moved here,” I said.
Collins laughed. “God, how long were you and Leith talking? He seemed to give you an awful lot of information on me.”
I shrugged. “Can never have enough blackmail material.”
“Okay, sure.” Collins nodded. “But yeah, that’s true—just Clarke and me against the world at Sweetwater Peak Elementary.” Her voice went wistful, and I knew she was still thinking about their argument.
“I never really thought about what it would be like to grow up in a town like this.”
Collins’s eyes shifted back toward the river, and she suddenly seemed far away. “Isolating,” she said. “Really isolating.” I liked listening to her talk, so I just waited—giving her the space to keep going if she wanted to.
After a few beats, she sighed. “I liked the adventures and the ghosts and how safe I felt. I liked working at Boone’s farm and my family’s antique shop, and I like that growing up here is the thing that makes me…
me. But it’s also just…stifling. Nothing ever changes.
Nothing ever moves. Sweetwater Peak is exactly as it was, as it is, and as it will always be. ”
I shrugged. “That doesn’t necessarily sound like a bad thing.”
Collins looked over at me. “You’re right. I don’t want anything here to change. I want it to stay exactly how it is.”
“Then why lament over it?”
“Because it’s my control group.”
“I’m not following.”
“It’s the thing that I’ll always be able to compare myself to—the thing that will determine whether I’ve changed or whether I’ve stayed the same,” she said. “And this time around, it’s making me feel like I’ve changed for the worse.”
“Because of the ghost thing?” I asked.
“Partly.” She nodded. “It feels like I’ve spent the last year or so dropping things as I ran from place to place—like my arms were too full—so I just started leaving things behind.
But now I’m not sure what I have left. I think that’s why I’ve got this block.
But sometimes when I’m with you, I feel like myself. ”
I had the urge to wrap my arms around her and pull her into my chest, but I refrained.
I didn’t want to try and placate her. Right now, it felt more important to just…sit with it all.
With her.
“I feel like myself with you, too,” I said after a while. “Not so lost, I guess.”
I didn’t expect what happened next. Collins leaned over to put her head on my shoulder. “Then it all might be worth it.”