The words sank in. “Already?”
“Yes,” he said. “And you’ll be racing Moore.”
Liam.
My fingers tightened around my coffee cup. “How do you know that? Eldridge hasn’t even—”
“I know because I asked,” my father said. “And he listened.”
A cold pressure spread through my ribs. “You... asked him? For what, exactly?”
“For clarity,” he answered, as if that explained everything. “For accountability. If Kingswell intends to compete at the highest level, you need to know exactly where you stand against Riverside’s star. And frankly, Alexander, you should welcome the opportunity. You’ve been drifting.”
“It’s only the first week back,” I said.
“Ever since you started at Kingswell, your freshman year didn’t reflect your potential. Your performance stalled after high school, and whatever happened that summer derailed you more than you’re willing to admit.”
I swallowed. “We got into finals last year with the freshman eight boat. Nothing changed that summer.”
This was the most I’d ever stood up for myself with my father, and it was about time. Because something did happen that summer. And it was one of the best things that had happened in my life. Liam had lodged something in my heart and it never left.
“I can hear it in your voice. You’re unfocused.” A pause. “Is it because of him?”
My breath stalled. “Who?”
“The one from the marina. The one you’re about to race. Riverside’s up-and-coming star rower.” His tone sharpened. “Moore.”
Everything inside me went still. Did he know? The idea of him finding out what happened was dizzying.
I couldn’t respond.
“I remember the look on your face after you took him out on the double scull I bought for you.”
Something inside me flinched, because I knew exactly what he was pointing at. That summer, that stupid, perfect morning when Liam and I pushed off from the dock in the double scull and sliced across the lake like we’d been born to row together.
I remembered how he glanced back at me, eyes bright and alive, and how everything locked into place so effortlessly it scared me. Nothing in my life had ever felt as natural, or as dangerous, as matching him stroke for stroke.
“There’s nothing going on,” I forced out.
“I certainly hope not.” He exhaled, disappointment wrapped in control. “You need to keep your personal impulses in check.Especially now. You’re a Harrington. Your first responsibility is to your legacy.”
My personal impulses... What the fuck?
“Dad—”
“Listen to me.” His voice cut clean. “Moore is talented, but he’s undisciplined. He’s everything Riverside celebrates and everything Kingswell should rise above. And you’re allowing him to take up space in your mind.”
“He doesn’t,” I lied. “He’s just my rival.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said. “Which is why this scrimmage matters. You need to put this... fixation to rest. Beat him soundly. Show everyone that you’re not the vulnerable one.”
The wordvulnerablehit harder than it should have. Everything I felt in that single yesterday was empowering. How I felt so damn strong. How I wanted all of this for myself. It was all crumbling under the weight of my father’s words and this bullshit legacy.
Did I want to be a Harrington?
I was always torn. I wanted to be part of my family. I wanted my father’s respect. But could I ever get it and be myself?
My father’s voice softened in that way that always felt worse. “You were raised for this. Kingswell is your birthright. Excellence is your responsibility. And rivals like him? They come and go. They don’t stay in your world unless you let them.”
