Chapter Seventeen Bryden （Mountain）
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
brYDEN (MOUNTAIN)
Before my boots even hit the pavement, I see my mother. Her arms are folded, braids perfectly tucked under her scarf, waiting with a permanent smile that nothing in this world has been able to erase.
It’s my favorite thing about her. Always happy, always kind. When the planet is actively burning down around us, she’s there with a hug, wisdom, and holding my favorite treat, frybread with zhiiwaagamizigan.
My father is with her, standing at her side with a hand at the small of her back.
Forever the protector, always at her side, silently observing.
They’re so opposite, almost like night and day, but they fit so perfectly.
Mom is loud and fun-loving while Dad is calm and quiet.
I guess I can thank him for my sunny disposition.
Kai, my younger brother, notices me first, points in my direction, and speaks at a volume I can’t hear from here. My mother’s eyes find mine, and that smile of hers widens. They’re excited, and I’m happy they’re here. Knowing that my family will be in the stands keeps me grounded, keeps me focused.
“Bryden, my son,” Mom calls.
She holds her arms out to me, wrapping me into a hug only a mother could give.
It’s comforting, the familiarity of her perfume, the warmth in her embrace.
I’ve missed this. The season has been stressful, the pressure mounting.
But the payoff is near; all the hard work and late hours will have meant something once we win finals, then nationals—and next, get drafted.
“You look tired,” she says when we break apart and runs her hands over my arms like she’s checking me for injuries.
“Son.” My father takes my hand firmly before pulling me into a hug.
We’re similar builds, both standing a solid nine inches taller than my mother’s five-foot-five-inch frame. His scowl matches mine, or so I’ve been told. Same features, same mannerisms.
“Dad,” I say, squeezing him tight, not realizing until this very moment just how much I’ve needed my people.
I’m at the top of my class and my parents see to it that I don’t want for anything. But even with those fortunes, I still miss being around them, miss having someone close to lean on.
I break our embrace and throw my arm around Kai to give him a noogie.
“Ouch, jerk. Stop it.”
I let him go and he playfully throws up his hands. I lean forward, throwing a weak jab then effortlessly block his punch. I laugh and stand up straight, blocking another one of his hits. Then he reaches into the van and hands me a large Tupperware container.
“What’s this?” I take it from him.
“Frybread with zhiiwaagamizigan,” he says enthusiastically.
“Yesss,” I say in a near groan, immediately cracking open the top and breaking off a piece of the frybread. I pop it into my mouth, moaning at how good it is.
“Don’t let Kane eat them all,” Kai orders.
We chuckle as I unzip my duffel and put the treats inside.
“Grandma made extra just for them,” Mom adds.
The front window rolls down, a hand sticking out, waving me over. Grandma’s there, wrapped in three shawls, and sipping tea from the dented green thermos she’s had since I was a kid.
She smiles at me, her face more wrinkled than the last time I saw her, but she’s beautiful. Her silver hair is hidden beneath her shawls. She raises a shaky hand, silently calling me closer. It’s a weak gesture, her limbs trembling just a little.
Leaning down, I bring my face to her palm, my eyes shutting the moment she cups my face, giving my cheeks a pat.
“Grandmother.”
“I’ve missed you, little one,” she says, her tone full of warmth.
My chest swells, warmth spreading like wildflowers.
It means a lot that she’s here—so much honor, so much history wrapped up in her ailing body.
So if she wants to call me by a pet name she’s called me for as long as I can remember, so be it.
Never mind the fact that I’m a six-foot, two-hundred-pound goalie who can take a hit like I’m made of steel.
To Grandmother, I’ll always be her little one.
I palm her hands, nuzzling my face against hers. “Thank you for being here.”
She pats my face. “I wouldn’t miss it. Your grandfather would be so proud of you.”
I feel my mother at my side, her hand on my back.
“How are you sleeping?”
I avoid looking her in the eye. “Fine.”
It’s a lie. Truth is, I haven’t been able to sleep in days. Maybe it’s the pressure of it all; tonight, if we win, we’re going to nationals. And before we know it, college will be over. If we’re lucky, tonight’s match puts us closer to the draft and the pro league.
She knows I’m lying, brows arched, an invisible question mark above her head. Thankfully, she doesn’t push. Instead she pulls my letterman jacket closed then pats my heart.
Then my eyes drift past her across the courtyard. It’s Sam, walking to the entrance, her broken backpack strap—and curvy build—an easy identifier. She’s on her phone, obviously arguing with someone on the other end from what I can see.
I wonder if it’s the same person from the phone call I witnessed before.
“Bryden?” Mom’s voice snaps me out of my daze.
My gaze snaps back. “Yes. Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I asked if you have time this morning. Have breakfast with us.”
“Can’t. Meeting a class partner inside.”
Mom squints at me, then nods. “Okay. We’ll head to the hotel and check in. See you at the rink later.”
“See you then.”
We hug once more, and I savor the comfort. My dad steps closer, tapping me on the shoulder before pulling me into an embrace as well.
“Play smart tonight. Don’t let anything get in your head.”
“I won’t.”
I move to the passenger window, lean in, and kiss Grandma’s cheek. She presses her thumb to mine in blessing.
“Good luck,” she murmurs, then lets me go.
I step away, tapping the top of the car in silent thanks.
Then I shift to reach for Kai, playfully yanking him into a hug while scuffing his hair.
He laughs through a groan, batting me away yet leaning into it all the same.
He wears his short, like our father, but everything else—the eyes, the jawline, the way his smile kicks up on one side—is like looking in a mirror.
Ten years apart, but nearly identical. Grandma calls us niizhoopizowag—two spirits tied together.
We’re not just brothers; we’re connected way deeper than that.
I glance back at my mother.
“Love you,” she says.
“Gizaagi’in.” I love you.
Dad gets into the driver’s seat, Mom slides in behind him while Kai buckles in next to her. They pull off, slow and steady down the road. I watch for a beat then spin on my heel toward the school.
Sam’s gone now.
I suck in a breath and move forward. It’s early on a Saturday morning, so the campus is mostly empty. Only a few other students walk the grounds. As I cross paths with some of them, I keep my eyes ahead of me.
Once inside the building, I find Sam. She’s just outside the library, sitting on a bench. Her hood is up, knees drawn to her chest, headset over her ears.
She doesn’t seem to notice me until I’m close, standing only inches in front of her. Sam startles, wiping her face too fast.
I pretend not to notice. Pretend not to see that she’s hurting. Instead, giving her space to hold on to whatever dignity she’s fighting to keep.
“Ready?” I ask, making a mental note of the stiffness in the way she hugs her knees tighter.
She nods, short and automatic, more like muscle memory than anything else. Shoulders squared, her lashes flutter to keep away the tears, breaths long and audible.
I glance around, stepping closer to shield her from someone passing us by. They don’t pay us any attention and yank open the library’s door and step inside.
Shifting my bag on my shoulder, I peer down the hall then back at her. Something about leaving her like this feels wrong. So I lower myself onto the bench beside her.
I unzip my bag, the sound bouncing between us. Then I remove the Tupperware container and pop the lid. Without words, I hold it in front of her, gently nudging her. Sam’s eyes dart to mine, and I tip my head toward the dessert.
“What’s this?” She stares at it, her brows knitted slightly.
“Try it,” I encourage while opening the condiment cup. “It’s frybread with zhiiwaagamizigan.”
Her brows furrow as she stares at me as if she hasn’t the slightest idea of what I’ve said. I chuckle inwardly. I don’t speak my native tongue on campus normally, and when I do, I always get that look.
“It’s frybread. Dip it in the maple syrup.” Another nudge.
She tears off a piece and does as instructed. “You know, this is the most you’ve ever said to me.”
I drop my chin. “Talking’s not really my thing.”
She huffs. “You don’t say.”
She inspects the dessert before popping it into her mouth. I watch her chew, somewhat excited to share a piece of my culture with someone other than Alex and Kane.
She moans almost as if she forgot where we are. It’s low and throaty and definitely shooting to places it shouldn’t.
Heat crawls up my nape. Clearing my throat, I look away, pretending to fix the lid on the syrup cup. Acting as if the sounds coming from her doesn’t knock something loose inside me.
I shift my weight, restless, fighting the reaction the way I’ve learned to fight every other distraction.
“Good, huh?” I mutter, keeping my voice even,
Sam hums and nods. “Is this your way of trying to cheer me up?”
My lips press together, and I left out a breath. “Is it working?”
Sam smiles. “Thanks.”
I nod. “You looked like you were about to disappear. Figured I’d keep you tethered a minute.”
Her features soften, and I can tell no one’s really given her that space before. The question comes before I realize that I’m speaking.
“Are you okay?”
She shakes her head. “Now would be a good time for you to resume the no talking thing.”
Fair enough.
But, I can’t let it go. She might not want to voice the problem or bring life to the pain she’s feeling. Because that’s what this is: pain. Something so bone deep that it’s eating her alive.
I lift to retrieve my phone from my back pocket. Quietly, I scroll through it until I find her number. I type out a message and hit send.
Bryden: Then don’t talk. Type it out. Whatever you say goes into the vault and I’ll delete it like it never happened.
Her phone buzzes against the bench, and she frowns as she picks it up. I watch as she recognizes my name on the screen. She peers at me, that brow now permanently pinched.
She stares at the phone, as if she’s contemplating if she should respond. Or maybe she’s contemplating whether she can trust me.
A deep breath escapes her, and I see the tension start to wane, if only a little. Sam types back, and instead of reading over her shoulder, I watch others enter the library. Then my phone vibrates.
Collins: It’s my brother. I miss him and promised we’d talk every week, but my stepdad is a dick.
I read the message, letting it sit between us for a beat.
Bryden: Not letting you talk to him.
Collins: You guessed it. The fucker just likes to make my life hell.
Bryden: Tell me about him.
She snaps her gaze to me then back to her phone.
Collins: He’s an asshole.
That brings a crooked smile to my lips.
Bryden: I mean your brother.
She hesitates.
Bryden: Mine’s name is Kai. He’s twelve and swears he can beat me in an arm-wrestling match. He and my parents just left. You can thank them for the treats.
She softens.
Collins: Desmond. He’s the best part of my life.
Bryden: I get that.
Bryden: What about your mom? Can’t she let you talk to Desmond?
All the color drains from her face, and her fingers tighten around the phone. I sense that I struck a nerve, tapped into that forbidden zone.
Bryden: Hey. Forget I asked.
Collins: She’s dead.
We send simultaneously.
Sam sucks in a breath, that cold, defensive demeanor returning. She hops up, snatching her backpack up with her. Regret washes over me, and I pinch my lips.
“Ready,” she huffs out.
I stand and follow her into the study hall. It smells like worn paper. It’s quiet as expected, but it feels heavier than it does otherwise. Like there’s a weight in the air.
We find a spot in the back near the windows. Sam immediately starts talking through the assignment. It’s interesting how quickly she buries her emotions.
“I was thinking we could test kinetic and potential energy.” She pulls out her notebook and textbook, turning through the pages until she finds what she’s looking for.
“I’m listening.”
“Something small-scale. A marble track or roller coaster model,” she says while tracing invisible lines with her fingers on the table.
Her voice is low, but softer, not as shattered as before.
“We could measure how changes in height affect velocity. Calculate energy conservation, friction losses, stuff like that.”
I like watching her think. It’s attractive seeing her brain at work. The idea is solid, much better than what I conjured up. Not wanting to embarrass myself by sharing my mediocre plan, I kick my bag to the side and lean in.
“Yeah,” I say finally. “We could do different surfaces. Test friction. Wood, plastic, metal.”
She brightens a little. It’s the type of smile that sneaks out before she can stop it.
We settle into a rhythm, working out the details. Before we know it, it’s been well over an hour, but it hasn’t felt nearly that long. It was comfortable and easy. Sam checks her phone.
“Shit. I’m sorry to cut this short. I need to catch the bus. Can we meet in a couple of days after the game to finish fleshing this out?”
“That works.”
Sam gives me a tight smile. “Good. See you at the game?”
I nod.
She hesitates for a moment, her eyes scanning mine as if she’s searching for words. But then she must change her mind because she walks away without a word.
I gather my duffel and stand to leave as well when my phone buzzes on the table. I pick it up, reading the message on the screen.
Collins: Thanks.
Collins: For not making earlier a thing.
My attention yanks to the exit just as the doors swing shut behind her. I stand there, staring at the text. Trying to figure out what to say next.
You’re welcome?
No, that doesn’t feel right when, frankly, there’s nothing for her to thank me for. I didn’t save the day or do anything grand. I just gave her space and didn’t let her sit in it alone.
Why? I haven’t the slightest clue. There’s something about her, and whatever it is hasn’t let go.
With one final exhale, I type away at the keys and hit send.
Bryden: Anytime.