Seven seats. In a freshman race. Against Kingswell.
“Holy shit,” Collins said.
Marcus’s jaw had gone tight. “Fluke.”
“Come on let’s go warm up,” Collins said to Marcus.
The two of them headed down the dock.
I watched Riverside’s crew climb out of their shell, watched their coach—Hale, I assumed—pull each of them into a quick embrace. No stiff handshakes. No clinical nods. Just genuine, unfiltered pride.
This wasn’t a fluke. This was a program that was building something that we could never understand.
And if their freshmen could do that to us... what would Liam do to me?
My eyes drifted down the dock and I found him. Liam stood near the Riverside boathouse, arms crossed, watching his freshmen celebrate. He wasn’t cheering or shouting. He just stood there, still as stone, radiating pride.
Then, as if he felt me looking, his head turned.
Our eyes met across the river.
The distance between us felt like nothing. Like I could reach out and touch him if I just—
He looked away first. Turned his back and disappeared into the boathouse.
My chest ached.
“Alex.”
I turned. Derek stood beside me on the riverbank, the wind ruffling his hair. He’d been watching me stare down the course.
“You good?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
He gave a quiet exhale, the kind that said,I’ve been here before, don’t bullshit me.
“I don’t know the legacy stuff you deal with, that’s not my world.” His eyes stayed on the water, steady. “But I do know pressure. The kind where one bad day feels like it proves everything people think they know about you.”
That hit deeper than I wanted it to.
He continued, “Once you’re on the water? None of that matters. Just the boat under you and the line you hold. That’s the only thing you get to decide today.”
My throat tightened.
This was why I admired him. Derek didn’t posture or pretend. He didn’t have the privilege of image to hide behind. He’d built his confidence from the ground up.
He looked at me. “Get your head in your shell. Especially with who you’re lining up against.”
He didn’t say Liam’s name, but I could feel it in my chest. Derek gave my shoulder one firm, grounding squeeze, then headed toward the docks.
The officials were already setting up for the next race. JV fours. Then varsity pairs. Then Marcus’s doubles. Then more races I’d have to sit through, each one tightening the knot in my stomach.
And at the end of it all—Me and Liam.
I tried to summon it. That fire I’d felt the other day when I’d soared past Mason and Braden.
The certainty.
