I pulled her into another hug, letting myself actually feel it this time—the relief, the gratitude, the bone-deep certainty that I wasn’t alone.
When I finally pulled back, I looked across the river.
The Kingswell dock was quieter now. I could just barely make out Alex’s figure in the distance, still sitting in his boat, head down, alone.
And I felt nothing.
No pull. No ache. No desperate need to fix what he’d broken.
Just...nothing.
I turned back to my mom, to Noah, to the people who actually mattered.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
Noah grinned. “Hell yeah. Victory lunch is on me. Well, on my dad’s credit card, but same thing.”
My mom laughed, and we started walking back toward the parking lot, the noise of the race fading behind us.
For the first time in a long time, I felt free from Alex’s grip.
And I was done looking back.
Chapter 4: Alex
I couldn’t move.
The finish line was behind me, the race was over, and people were cheering somewhere—I could hear it but like I was underwater. I just sat there in my shell, staring at the gray sky, feeling nothing and everything at once.
A full length.
He’d beaten me by a full length.
My hands were still gripping my oars. My chest heaved with each breath, but it felt like no air was getting in.
Good race, golden boy.
The smirk on his face, the cruelty in his voice, and the way he’d looked at me like I was nothing.
Like I’d never been anything.
“Harrington.” Coach Eldridge’s voice cut through my thoughts. He was in the officials’ launch, motoring toward me. “Bring it in.”
I nodded mechanically and started paddling toward the Kingswell dock.
Each stroke felt like moving through cement. My technique was still clean—muscle memory taking over when my brain couldn’t function. But everything inside me felt shattered.
When I reached the dock, Braden was there to steady my boat. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. His face said it all—a mix of pity and relief that it wasn’t him out there getting destroyed.
Damn, it must have beenreallybad if Braden felt bad for me.
I climbed out, my legs shaking. The dock felt unstable beneath me, or maybe that was just me.
“Alex—“ someone started.
I walked past them. Past the team. Past Coach Eldridge’s clinical assessment face. Past the parents with their tight, disappointed smiles.
I needed air. Space. Anything but this.
