Hope practice went okay. Love you.
I stared at it.
Saturday night had been good. Really good. I’d felt sure about us, about everything.
But now, sitting here with Hale’s words ringing in my ears and the weight of the double on my shoulders and the video still hanging over my head like a sword—
Everything felt complicated again.
Liam
Practice was fine. Love you too.
I shoved my phone in my pocket and stood up.
The double would be fine and I’d learn whatever Hale wanted me to learn, prove I could lead, and get back in my single.
Easy. Except nothing in my life felt easy anymore.
And the thing I kept trying not to think about—the thing that kept creeping in at the edges when I was in that double, feeling the rhythm of rowing with someone else—
Was at the lake.
Alex.
The way we moved together like we shared one body, one heartbeat, one breath.
I pushed the thought away again. Like I always did, but it was getting harder to keep pushing.
And eventually, I was going to run out of places to shove all these feelings I wasn’t supposed to have.
Eventually, something was going to break.
I just didn’t know what.
Or when.
I just knew it was coming.
Chapter 10: Alex
It had been days since the fight.
Days since I defended my homophobic friend and hurt my only gay friend. I’d been avoiding Marcus because I was too scared to tell him the truth: that he was a dick. And Ethan... well, he didn’t want anything to do with me… and rightfully so.
On Monday morning, Coach Eldridge had gathered us all in the boathouse before we touched the water. He’d told us exactly how disappointed he was in our lack of discipline. How fighting reflected badly on the program, on Kingswell’s reputation, on our families.
But most of his anger wasn’t directed at us.
It was directed at Riverside.
“That program has always lacked discipline,” he said, his voice cold and controlled. “We don’t stoop to the level of heathens.”
He made it clear that his real frustration wasn’t about the fight itself—it was about the injuries—the fact that we had guys nursing split knuckles and bruised ribs and black eyes right before the head races. About how it was going to affect our lineups, our boat combinations, our chances at winning.
Everythingalways came back to winning.
Not about what Marcus had said to Remy. Not about why we’d been defending our teammate in the first place. Just about how the fight had made us look weak, undisciplined, and worst of all—compromised.
