"How are you doing?"
"Lungs on fire. Legs dying."
"So the usual."
"The usual."
Second turn. Tighter than the first—Hale had set the buoys to simulate the Weeks Bridge passage on the Charles, where the river narrowed and the current shifted and crews that weren't prepared lost seconds.
"Tight turn," I called. "Heavy inside. Light outside. On my call."
"Ready."
"Now."
We carved it. The bow swinging through the gap between buoys. Alex's blade work impeccable on the outside—feathering high, skimming the surface, giving me room to pull hard on the inside. The boat emerged from the turn pointed straight. No drift. No lost momentum.
"Clean," I said.
"Told you I fixed the feather."
I grinned. Couldn't help it.
"Two and a half miles," Alex called. "Five hundred to go. What have you got?"
"Everything."
"Then let's use it. Power ten on my count."
Something flipped in my chest. Alex calling a power ten. Not me. The bow seat calling the stroke—that wasn't textbook. That was trust. That was Alex sayingI see what we need and I'm going to ask for itinstead of waiting for me to decide.
"Ready," I said.
"One."
Drive. Hard. The boat leaping.
"Two."
Harder. The hull lifting. The run stretching.
"Three—four—five—"
My legs were on fire. Past fire. Into that place where the pain became white noise and the only thing left was the will to keep pulling.
"Six—seven—"
Alex's voice was raw. Shredded. But steady. Counting like a coxswain. Counting like someone who'd decided that whatever happened in the next thirty seconds was going to be earned together.
"Eight—nine—TEN."
The last stroke was the hardest. The one where your body saidstopand you saidno.My blade caught the water clean. The drive went through my legs like a detonation. Behind me, Alex matched it—perfectly, violently, both of us throwing everything at the finish.
The buoy marking the three-mile point slid past.
I collapsed over my oar handle. Gasping. Lungs destroyed. My legs shaking so hard the seat was rattling on the slide. Behind me, Alex was in the same state—I could hear his breathing, ragged and desperate, the sound of two people who'd left everything on the water.
Hale's launch pulled alongside. The engine cutting to idle.
