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Bridger

T he quad buzzes with activity as students hurry between classes. Their laughter and chatter blends with the faint strains of music carried on the brisk spring breeze. I lean against a bench near Holland’s building, the coffee in my hand starting to lose its warmth. I scan the steady stream of people spilling out the doors, searching for a familiar flash of auburn hair.

I want Holland to understand that what I feel for her is genuine. I meant what I said about regretting the way I ghosted her two years ago. After last night, I don’t want to do anything that makes her think I’m pulling away.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of unexpected shifts. Fake dating has morphed into late-night talks, quiet confessions, and moments I can’t bring myself to overanalyze.

Moments that feel disarmingly real.

Like last night, curled up in my bed, Holland’s sharp edges softened as we talked about everything and nothing. It’s enough to make me think we’re both moving in the same direction.

Most times in life, you don’t get a do-over. There isn’t a chance to go back and correct a mistake.

But I’m really hoping that’s what’s happening between us now.

An opportunity to undo the choice I made out of fear.

“Dude, your behavior is really starting to freak me out. Maybe the guys are right and you need an intervention.” Steele’s voice breaks into the chaotic whirl of my thoughts.

It’s not like I don’t get where he’s coming from. This entire thing with Holland started out as a way to keep her close so I could watch her every move until she either fucked up or came clean.

Instead, I’m the one who’s done a complete one-eighty.

My fingers tighten around the coffee as I glance over my shoulder to meet his eyes. “You can hold off on the intervention for the time being. I haven’t started scrolling through the Humane Society’s adoption pages yet.”

“You sure about that?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just curious why you’re hanging around, looking for your fake girlfriend like a lovesick puppy.” He glances at the cup. “Don’t tell me that’s for her.”

“Yeah, it is.” I pull it out of his reach when he makes a grab for it. “And, no, you can’t have it.”

His brows shoot up. “Why do I get the feeling this relationship is no longer fake?”

I roll my eyes as heat floods my cheeks. “It’s coffee,” I grumble. “Don’t make a bigger deal out of it than it is.”

He leans against the bench beside me, his concern fading into something more thoughtful. “You actually believe her?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to lie.

At the last moment, I decide against it. “Yeah, I do. And if I hadn’t been such a chickenshit two years ago, we wouldn’t be in this place now. I wouldn’t have spent all this time wondering if we could have been something more.” My shoulders loosen. “I don’t want to continue wondering.”

I brace for an argument.

For my cousin to lose his shit and make a last-ditch effort to talk some sense into me.

But that’s not what happens.

He presses his lips together and is silent for a long stretch of moments. “Okay.”

I blink. “Okay?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. If you truly believe she’s not the one behind the messages, then I’ll support you. Hell, dude, I’ll even root for you two crazy kids. If that’s what you want.”

I snort out a laugh as my muscles lose their rigidity. “I appreciate it.”

“That’s what cousins are for, right? I’ll always be on your side and want what’s best for you. If anyone deserves it, it’s you. Seriously.”

His words hit me hard. Steele has always been more like a brother to me, and I have no idea what I’d do without him.

Thank fuck, I’ll never have to find out.

“One last question.”

I almost groan. I should have realized that he capitulated way too easily. “Shoot.”

“Do you trust her?” There’s a pause. “I mean really trust her?”

I don’t even have to think about it. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” he drawls, his tone loaded. “Then explain why she’s deep in conversation with Garret Akeman.”

My head whips around so fast that the coffee cup nearly slips from my hand.

There’s no damn way.

The moment my gaze lands on them, it’s like the air gets knocked from my lungs.

Sure enough, they’re standing off to the side of the walkway. My jaw locks at the way Garret sidles closer to her. Holland’s expression is unreadable.

But here’s the thing, she hasn’t moved away from him.

“What the hell?” I mutter.

“She knows you two have an issue, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, why are they together, then?” There’s not a single drop of smugness in Steele’s voice.

“I don’t know.” My pulse spikes, a mixture of confusion and something darker twisting in my chest.

Holland never glances in my direction. Her attention stays focused on my teammate. The one who has continued to fuck with me every chance he gets.

Garret says something, and she nods.

That’s all it takes for my stomach to churn.

“Look, man. I know you want to trust her.” Steele’s voice is quieter now. “I’m just not sure if you can. I’m worried that he’s the one feeding info to someone. The very same someone who’s been sleeping in your bed at night.”

Fuck.

I turn back to Steele, but the words are stuck in my throat. The doubts he’s just resurrected are taking root, tangling with the flicker of unease that’s been buried in the back of my brain since the start of all this.

Before I can respond, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I yank it out, hoping for a distraction, but what I see only makes everything worse.

Another anonymous message.

Anonymous message

Bridger Sanderson thinks he’s untouchable, but I know the truth. It won’t be long before all the dark secrets get dragged into the light.

The words hit like a physical blow, and my hand tightens on the phone. Steele grabs my cell and stares at the screen before swearing under his breath.

He glares in the direction of Garret and Holland. “If it turns out they’re working together, I’ll bury both of them alive.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, rage bubbling under my skin. I feel like I’m drowning in a storm I can’t control.

The messages.

My father.

The creeping doubts when I was so fucking sure I could trust her.

My phone vibrates again.

This time, it’s a notification from the chat app.

FragileLikeABomb

What do you do when you want to trust the one person you shouldn’t?

Her message feels too fitting, too timely.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I stare at her question. Anger and frustration swirl in my chest.

For the first time, I realize that I have no idea how to respond.

I don’t stop Steele when he grabs the coffee out of my hand and tosses it into the nearest trash can. “Sorry, bro. As much as you wanted to believe whatever this is between you two is real, I just don’t think it is.”

Instead of replying, I shove my phone back into my pocket and stare across the quad, watching as Holland and Garret fall in line together before heading toward one of the parking lots on campus.

My throat constricts until it becomes hard to breathe.

I’m at a loss.

I don’t know if Steele’s right, but it sure as hell feels like he might be.