“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
My hands were shaking. I stepped back and pressed them against the stone boathouse wall. “What are you talking about, then?”
Ethan was quiet for a moment, choosing his words.
“I’m talking about the fact that you just broke down crying after a race. And it’s not because you lost. I’ve seen you lose before. This is different.”
I slid down the wall to sit on the cool concrete, my knees close to my chest. “I’m just tired. The pressure, my father—“
“Stop.” Ethan’s voice was firm but not unkind. “You don’t have to tell me everything. But don’t lie to me.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the panic rising in my chest. How much did he know? Was I that obvious? What if I said it out loud? What if I admitted—
No. I couldn’t. Once I said it, I couldn’t take it back. Once I gave voice to what I actually felt, it would be real in a way I couldn’t control.
I felt Ethan sit next to me, his shoulder nudged mine.
“He matters to you. I don’t know the whole story, and you don’t have to tell me. But I know that much.”
I swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You saw what happened out there. He made it clear how he feels.”
“Did he? Or did he make it clear that you hurt him?”
The words hit like a slap and I turned my head to Ethan.
“I didn’t—“ I started, but my voice broke. “I never meant to hurt him.”
Ethan raised his eyebrows.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
A cold wind whipped around the boathouse, chilling my legs. A silence settled between us and we both stared out on the quad. The Kingswell University complex looked like ancient castle grounds. Did I have a choice? I never felt like I had a choice.
Ethan’s leg nudged mine.
“Not for me. You don’t understand what it’s like. The expectations, the legacy, my father watching every move I make. I can’t just—“
I stopped myself before I said too much. Before I crossed the line I couldn’t uncross.
Ethan turned his head back to me, watched me carefully.
“You’re allowed to feel things, you know,” he said finally. “Even things that don’t fit into your father’s plan. Even things that scare you.”
My throat tightened. I wanted to tell him. God, I wanted to tell him so badly. So I could stop carrying this alone and have someone who knew the truth.
But the safest thing was to just bury it deeper. To control it. To never let it see daylight.
“I should go,” I said, starting to stand.
Ethan caught my arm. “Alex. Whatever’s going on—whatever you’re dealing with—you’re not alone. Okay? Even if you can’t talk about it yet.”
Yet.
The word hung in the air between us.
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and pulled my arm away.
