Chapter 1: Alex
Iwas thirteen minutes early. The Kingswell boathouse bay was almost empty.
Yesterday morning I'd woken up with Liam in my bed. His arm across my ribs. His breath against the back of my neck.
One day at a time. Secret. Careful.
That was the deal we'd made. In my bed with the pillow crease on his cheek and his voice still rough from sleep. It had felt possible then—manageable, even.
Twenty-four hours later, standing in the cathedral of my father's money, waiting for the first intensive Head of the Charles training session, I wasn't sure it was possible at all.
Three miles on the Charles River in Boston. Biggest head race in the country. National media. Scouts. And me in a double with the guy whose sheets I could still smell on my skin.
I heard footsteps, then the bay door rolled open.
Derek walked in with a coffee cup, steam curling past his jaw. Grey joggers. Kingswell quarter-zip. His grandfather's watch catching the light—the only sentimental thing he wore, and he wore it every day.
"You're early," he said.
"Next few weeks are big."
"Nervous?"
"No."
He sipped his coffee.
"You look different," he said.
My stomach dropped. "Different how?"
"I don't know. Good different." He shrugged one shoulder. "Lighter, maybe. Like you actually slept for once."
I had slept. With Liam. And I'd slept better than I had in months.
And apparently it showed on my face like a confession.
"Just focused on the race," I said.
Derek nodded and didn't push.
He was the only guy here and I already felt like I was performing.
He moved past me toward the racks. Ran his hand along the hull of a Filippi four with the absent reverence of someone who loved boats too much. Senior year. Last fall season.
"Riverside is coming over at five-thirty," Derek said. "Full intensive session. Eldridge is running ergs for the singles and pairs entries. Hale's taking the water for the double and the quad."
"Hale's coaching us on the water? Not Eldridge?"
"Sounds like they agreed Hale takes the double, Eldridge takes the rest. Professional compromise."
That was a relief. Hale would push us hard, but he wouldn't be reading between the lines the way Eldridge would. And honestly, being coached by someone who didn't have my father's phone number felt like the closest thing to freedom I was going to get.
"Got it. Are we just practicing here the next few weeks?" I asked.
"Alternating boathouses. Sometimes here, sometimes Riverside." Derek checked his watch. "I'm going to get changed. The rest of the guys should be here in a few."
He grabbed his bag from behind the erg row and headed upstairs toward the locker rooms. His footsteps faded on the stairs. A door opened, closed.
