Page 78 of Racing Hearts

Rohan, however, does not seem to be swayed. “I don’t know, Coach,” he says.

“Look,” Adrian says. “Do you trust me?”

There’s silence, but I imagine Rohan nodding. How could he not?

“Good,” Adrian says. “Sometimes it’s hard for us to believe in ourselves. I understand that better than you might think. But, here’s the thing, I believe in you. Anytime you’re doubting yourself or feeling unsure, you can think about that.”

He’s not even giving me this speech, and it still sprays my skull with riffles of pleasure. There have been dozens of times in my life that I’ve needed to hear words like those. After any number of tough training sessions, after I broke my ankle. In Italy. Especially in Italy.

After an agonizing silence, Rohan says, “You might believe in me, but you don’t know for sure that I can do this. You can’t.”

My stomach twists on Adrian’s behalf.

“You’re right,” Adrian says. “It’s a risk. There’s always a risk in trying something new or pushing yourself to the next level. Why don’t you take some time to think it over?”

I hear the telltale squeak of a shoe.

“Coach.” Rohan’s voice sounds strained and breathy. “Maybe—maybe this isn’t the right time, but I…”

His voice rises with the vowel and he clears his throat.

After another moment passes, Adrian gently prods, “Go ahead. Whatever it is. You can say it.”

“I’ve been thinking I should quit.”

What?

“What?” Adrian asks.

“I don’t think I want to keep rowing.”

My brain stutters on this pronouncement. I admit that I haven’t always appreciated Rohan or that camera on his phone, but I have started to feel like I understand him. And his passion for this team. He’s often the first person to arrive at practice and nearly always the last to leave. On more than one occasion, I’ve seen his mom get out of her car to tear him away from the docks. And the way he talks about our sport in his videos—well, if it’s an act, then Rohan is one of the most talented actors of his generation.

Now he wants to quit?

“I—I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Rohan continues, although if this is true, there hasn’t been a hint of it in his reflections on TikTok. If anything, it seems like he’s been happier than usual—more excited, more energetic, particularly since his follower count started ticking up. “My parents think that practices are taking too much time away from family stuff.”

“And that’s how you feel, too?” Adrian asks. “Not just what your parents want?”

“Maybe it’s for the best.”

It’s not an answer, and I’m sure Adrian knows that, but he also stays quiet, perhaps unwilling to challenge Rohan’s parents, even implicitly. I drum my fingers against my thigh, concern building at the idea that I am at least partially responsible for this turn of events. There aren’t any footsteps to suggest they’ve left, but the silence has stretched for far too long. A beat later, I lean forward to chance a glance at the pair. Rohan is looking down at his shoes. Adrian has his face tilted toward the boathouse, expression flat.

I’ve been around coaches for my entire adult life, but I think I’m just beginning to appreciate how difficult this job really is. Not just the technical aspects or even the soft skills, like communication and empathy, but the weight of it. The balance between uplifting your athletes and doing what’s best for them, even if they might not always appreciate the bigger picture. And then the incredible responsibility of shaping that bigger picture in the first place.

Adrian closes his eyes slowly and rubs at the back of his neck. I have exactly two choices.

I could stay away. Maybe I should. I don’t want to be an interloper between coach and athlete. I don’t want to insert myself where I don’t belong.

Or I could try to help.

Then he opens his eyes and looks directly at my place in the shadows. I catch his gaze and tilt my head in question. He nods, so slightly that Rohan might not have caught the gesture. For me, it’s enough.

“Hey,” I say, stepping out from my hiding place.

Rohan spins.

“How long have you been lurking back there?” he asks with more suspicion than I’d like.