This was the thing no one understood about having a father like Thomas Harrington. The cruelty wasn't the hardest part. The hardest part was the moments when he was kind—because they made me realize how starved I was. How badly I still wanted him to see me, even when I knew the seeing came with expectations I couldn't meet.
A knock on my door. Who now? First, Marcus, then my Father.
Please let it be Liam.
Ethan. Two coffees from the campus cart. One for him, one for me.
"You look like shit," he said, handing me mine.
"Thanks."
"Seriously. When's the last time you slept?"
"Define sleep."
He dropped into my desk chair and spun it to face me. I sat on the bed. The coffee was good—dark roast, no sugar, the way I'd been drinking it since freshman year. The fact that he remembered felt like something I shouldn't take for granted.
"My father just called," I said. Didn't plan to say it. Just came out.
Ethan's eyebrows rose. "And?"
"He congratulated me. On the invitational."
"That's... good?"
"He said I looked happy."
Ethan studied me. He understood the weight of that sentence without me having to explain it—he'd seen enough of my father's shadow to know that Thomas Harrington noticing his son's happiness was either a miracle or a weapon.
"How do you feel about it?" he asked.
"I don't know." Honest. "It felt good. Which scares me."
Ethan nodded slowly.
But before he could ask more questions, I said, "What's going on with you?"
He tiled his head, then pulled his laptop out. "Eldridge is making me do a documentary about the joint program."
"Making you?"
"For my Media Studies practicum. I pitched three other ideas to my professor and he shot all of them down. Apparently, he and Eldridge talked and decided the joint program is 'a compelling institutional narrative.'" He did air quotes with the kind of disgust only Ethan could make charming. "Fifteen-minute short. Coaching philosophies, team dynamics. Due end of semester."
"You don't want to do it."
"I want to make films about things that matter to me. " He gestured with his coffee. "Not a promo reel for a rowing program funded by rich dads."
"My rich dad, specifically."
"Your rich dad, specifically." But he was almost smiling. "I've got full access. Boathouse, dock, training sessions. Film whenever I want. It's actually great access for a sophomore—I just wish it was for a project I cared about."
My stomach tightened.Full access. Camera in the boathouse. Filming training sessions.
"Ethan—"
"Relax." He held up his hand. "I know what you're thinking. And no. I'm not filming your personal life. This is about the program, not softcore porn about you and Liam."
I almost laughed but this was serious. I didn't need more pressure, between Emily and Braden—it was all too risky already.
