He looked up. His expression shifted—not fear, just alertness. The look of someone assessing a situation.
"Moore."
"We need to talk."
"About?"
"About the shit you've been pulling."
He pocketed his phone. Crossed his arms. "You're going to have to be more specific."
"The comments. The digs. You've been running your mouth about me and Alex all month, and I want to know why."
Braden studied me. "Because you're getting handed a double while the rest of us grind for seats. That's not a dig. "
"It's more than that and you know it."
"Do I?" He tilted his head. That prep-school composure. The slight amusement in his eyes like he was watching somethingbeneath him. "You seem pretty wound up for a guy who's just talking about seat assignments."
"I'm wound up because someone's been—" I caught myself. Stopped. Breathed. "Because you don't know when to quit."
"Someone's been what?" Braden's eyes narrowed. He'd caught the slip. "What's going on, Moore?"
"Nothing."
"No, you came out here looking for a fight. At least have the balls to tell me what about." He pushed off the car. Took a step toward me. "Or is this just your thing? Show up, act tough, hope nobody notices you're in over your head?"
"Watch it."
"You know what I think?" Braden said. "I think you know you don't belong here. Not in that boat, not at this program. Harrington's got the pedigree. You've got a scholarship and a chip on your shoulder. And deep down you know the only reason you're in that double is because Hale felt sorry for—"
I grabbed him by the front of his jacket and slammed him back against the side of the Audi. The car rocked on its suspension. Braden's head snapped back, his eyes going wide—real fear now.
"Say it again," I said. My face was inches from his. "Say one more word."
Braden's hands came up, gripping my wrists, trying to break free. "Get your hands off me—"
"Say it again."
"Moore—"
"Hey. HEY."
Remy's voice cut across the lot.
Then his hand was on my shoulder, pulling me back. He was a small guy but stronger than he looked.
"Let go of him. Now." Remy's voice was right in my ear. Calm but with steel underneath. The cox voice. The one that could cut through wind and adrenaline.
My hands didn't want to open. Every muscle in my body was locked.
"Liam." Remy said my first name. That got through. "Let go. Walk away."
I released Braden's jacket. Stepped back. My hands were shaking.
Braden straightened his coat. His face was flushed, eyes bright with anger. He looked at Remy, then back at me.
"Walk," Remy said, putting himself between us. He had his hand on my chest, pushing me backward. "We're going. Right now."
