“You don’t seem like someone who breaks.”
Derek smiled faintly. “Yeah, well. Neither do you.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
“What changed?” I asked.
“I stopped lying to myself.” Derek’s gaze drifted back to the river. “Stopped pretending I could handle everything alone. So I asked for help and went to therapy... that changed a lot for me.”
He looked at me again, eyes sharper now.
“Asking for help was the hardest thing I ever did.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Are you saying that I need therapy?”
Derek laughed. “I mean, probably, but it’s not that. It’s just about being honest with yourself.”
Does he know I’m gay?
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said, trying not to be defensive.
“I know all the legacy shit is heavy and I don’t think it fits who you really are.”
It was a relief that that was all he thought it was.
“It’s not... you’re right," I said.
“That’s all I’m saying.” Derek’s jaw tightened. “You can’t outrun what’s eating at you, Alex.”
I swallowed hard.
“What if I don’t know how?”
Derek’s expression softened. “Start small. One honest thing at a time.”
We stood there for a moment, neither of us speaking.
The clouds that had hung heavy all morning finally shifted, breaking apart. Sunlight pushed through, sudden and warm on my skin.
“Wanna head back?” Derek asked.
“Yeah. Thanks for the advice.” I meant it.
He slapped me on the back. “That’s what captains are for.”
We started walking back toward the boathouse. Derek walked beside me, steady and unhurried. Six-three, broad shoulders tapering down to a rower’s build—lean power earned through years of discipline.
The path curved along the river, gravel crunching under our feet. Neither of us spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—just there, settling between us like the space between strokes in a boat.
My chest relaxed. Just a little. Just enough.
I pulled in a breath—deeper than I’d managed in days—and felt something shift. Not fixed, but it was light, like maybe if I could keep breathing then I could keep moving—keep trying.
The boathouse came into view ahead. Practice was over and the boats were racked. Tomorrow we’d be back on the water, and I’d have to figure out how to get my timing back. How to set the rhythm. I could do it.
Derek stopped at the door.
“You’re a good rower and you’re a good guy... just try and learn from my mistakes.”
