My father’s voice hadn’t left me. Neither had Liam’s face in that Riverside video. The way he rowed like he had something to prove to the universe, but more likely something he wanted to prove to me.
You need to crush him, Alexander. Your legacy depends on it.
The words echoed through me until I felt hollow. Crush him? I didn’t know about that, but I did have an unsanctioned crush on him. Stupid thought.
I took a deep breath.
Marcus spotted me first. He was sitting on an erg like it was his personal throne.
He lifted his eyebrows as I entered. “Big afternoon, huh? Heard Eldridge is dropping the lineups for the scrimmage today.”
I forced something that resembled a smile. “Yup, can’t wait to see what we’re in for this weekend.”
He studied me for a second. “You look stressed.”
“That’s just my face,” I said.
He snorted. “Then your face needs therapy, my friend.”
Before I could answer, Derek Shaw stepped out from the hallway, clipboard in hand, posture straight as a rigging line. He was tall and powerfully built, with close-cropped dark brown hair and steady hazel eyes that caught everything without judgment.
Derek always carried himself like he was holding the team together by sheer presence alone, and the truth was... he was. He was the team captain—calm and grounded. Since he was here on a scholarship, didn’t come from money, he’d earned everything he had.
I admired that about him and it made him different than most of us. It was the same thing I admired about Liam.
He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he passed. “Ready to work, Harrington?”
I nodded, grateful for the solidity of his hand, the way Derek never made things complicated. He didn’t pry. He didn’t hover. He just understood things without being told.
I sat on an erg, my favorite spot by the window so I could look out onto the river. I strapped in my feet and wrapped my hands around the handle.
I gave the handle a tug and the flywheel spun smooth. I bent my knees and the seat slid down toward the front of the machine. My body relaxed but ready to move.
I gave an easy push, my quads, hamstrings, and glutes tightening. As I slid back on the machine I pulled the handletoward my chest. I relaxed and slid back down. Legs, arms, arms, legs.
I got into a rhythm and my heart and lungs started to work.
As I settled into a rhythm, my mind drifted back to the courtyard. Back to the phone call. Back to Liam in that video, sweat glinting down the center of his chest, biceps and forearms squeezing.
Across the gym, two upperclassmen lingered by the water station, voices low but not low enough.
“—apparently a single out there, racing pace—”
“Coach is pissed. Dangerous as hell—”
My heart lurched against my ribs. People were still talking about the race. I wished it would go away. I wished it never happened.
Fuck. Don’t react.
Derek, a few ergs down, paused mid-stretch. Our eyes met. His expression didn’t flinch.
He looked around the room. He knew someone had messed up, but the look he gave me was like he knew it could’ve been me.
I tightened my grip on the handle.
When Coach Eldridge stepped into the room, everything stilled. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture strict, gaze sweeping across us like a searchlight.
I slid to a stop.
