chapter FOURTEEN #2
She looks away. "Something like that."
Another partial truth. I'm collecting quite a list of them from her tonight.
"What's going on with you, Callahan?" I ask directly. "And don't say 'nothing.' You've been distracted all day. You barely touched Bo's jambalaya, which is practically sacrilege. You keep checking your phone like you're expecting bad news."
"Just tired," she repeats. "And stressed about exams."
"More lies." I step closer, lowering my voice. "The bruise on your wrist. Did someone grab you?"
Her hand automatically covers her wrist, confirming my suspicion. "It's nothing."
"Doesn't look like nothing."
"I bumped it on the dock."
"The dock doesn't leave finger marks." I reach for her hand, stopping when she flinches back. "Who hurt you?"
"No one," she insists, eyes flashing with that fierce independence that both impresses and frustrates me. "I can handle myself, Lockwood."
"I never suggested otherwise." I maintain eye contact, trying to read past her defenses. "But as team captain, I need to know if something's threatening one of my rowers."
"I'm your coxswain, not your rower."
"Same principle."
She studies me for a long moment, calculation clear in her expression. Weighing how much to reveal. What to keep hidden.
"There's been some... pushback... about my position on the team," she finally says. "Nothing I can't handle."
"Kinsley?" I demand, anger flaring at the thought of my ex-girlfriend physically intimidating Reese.
"Not directly."
"But related." I clench my jaw. "I'll talk to her."
"Don't." Her voice sharpens. "That will only make it worse. I'm managing it."
"Clearly," I say, gesturing to her wrist.
"One incident, which won't be repeated." Her chin lifts in that stubborn way that's become familiar. "I don't need you fighting my battles, Lockwood."
"It's not about need. It's about team."
"The team is fine. I'm fine. Riverside will be fine."
There it is again, that slight hesitation when mentioning Riverside. What is she not telling me?
Before I can press further, Zane appears in the doorway. "Callahan, Beckett needs a fourth for Mario Kart. Says only someone with your steering skills can save his team."
She seizes the excuse, relief evident. "Can't turn down a challenge like that."
"We're not finished," I tell her quietly.
"Yes, we are." She walks past me, shoulder brushing mine briefly. "For now."
I watch her join the others in the living room, noting how she relaxes slightly once engaged in the game. The facade of normalcy she maintains is impressive, but I've spent my life reading people's weaknesses. Something is weighing on her, something beyond normal stress or team politics.
"You're staring again," Eli observes, stepping up beside me with a beer. "Not exactly subtle."
"I'm concerned," I correct. "Something's off with her."
"Just noticing now?" He sips from his own bottle. "She's been on edge since yesterday."
I turn to him fully. "You know something."
Eli Stone might be the team strategist, but I've known him long enough to read when he's holding back.
He considers me over the rim of his bottle. "I know she's under a lot of pressure. Trial period ending, Riverside coming up, Kinsley and her crew causing trouble. More than enough to explain her current state."
"But you don't think that's all it is."
Eli's expression remains carefully neutral. "Not my place to speculate."
"Bullshit. Speculating is practically your favorite pastime."
"And yours is control, not interrogation." He holds my gaze, surprisingly firm. "If Callahan has something she needs to share, she will. When she's ready."
The implied criticism stings, mostly because it's partly justified. I've been pushing harder than usual, driven by something I'm not entirely ready to examine.
"The team needs to know if there are external threats," I say.
"The team is solid," Eli interrupts. "Our times are better than they've ever been. Whatever's going on with Callahan hasn't affected her performance on the water. That's what matters, right?"
He's using my own logic against me, and we both know it.
"Fine," I concede. "But if you know something that affects this team's ability to compete at Riverside, I expect you to tell me. Understood?"
"Crystal clear, Captain." He salutes mockingly with the rim of his bottle before walking away.
From the living room comes the sound of Reese's laughter as she apparently demolishes Beckett in their game. The sound is genuine, unguarded in a way I've rarely heard from her. Something in my chest tightens at the realization that she's more relaxed with them than with me.
My phone buzzes with a text from my father: Confirm dinner Sunday after your race. Bringing Kincaids. Katherine will be there.
Katherine Kincaid. Daughter of my father's business partner. Alpha, pre-law, exactly the type of woman my parents consider suitable. The attempted matchmaking isn't even subtle.
I text back: Can't. Team commitments.
His response is immediate: Reschedule them. This is important.
I put the phone away without responding, irritation simmering. Always the same pressure. Always the same expectations. Row. Win. Lead. Continue the Lockwood legacy in every aspect of life, personal choices be damned.
Through the doorway, I can see Reese now, controller in hand, trash-talking Beckett with surprising skill. For a moment, I envy the easy camaraderie she's established with the others. The walls between us remain firmly in place, despite my attempts to breach them.
Cameron enters from outside, the faint scent of cigarettes clinging to him. He pauses, following my gaze to where Reese sits on the couch between Beckett and Zane. Something passes across his usually impassive face, a flicker of emotion quickly suppressed.
"Problem, Blake?" I ask.
He glances at me, expression neutral once more. "No."
But he continues watching Reese for a moment longer before heading upstairs, that unusual attentiveness I've been noticing more frequently. I file away this observation with the others, the puzzle of team dynamics growing more complex by the day.
By 9:30, the evening begins to wind down. Reese stands, gathering her things. "I should head back. Early class tomorrow."
"I'll walk you," I offer.
"Not necessary."
"It's dark, and campus security reported an incident near the science buildings last week."
She looks like she wants to argue, then sighs. "Fine."
Bo reappears from the kitchen with a container. "Leftovers," he says, handing it to Reese. "Since you barely ate."
"Thanks, Strickland," she says, genuine gratitude in her voice. "Dinner was amazing."
"Team tradition," he replies with a warm smile. "You're team now."
Surprise and guilt compete for dominance on her face until she masks both. "Right. Team."
Outside, the night air carries the scent of approaching rain. We walk in silence for several minutes, Reese maintaining a careful distance between us. I match her pace, shortening my stride to accommodate her shorter legs.
"You don't have to do this," she says eventually. "I've walked home alone plenty of times."
"I know you can," I glance down at her. "But the team needs its coxswain in one piece for Riverside."
There it is again, that almost imperceptible tension at the mention of the race.
"About Riverside," she begins, then stops.
"What about it?"
She hesitates, conflict evident in her expression. "Nothing. Just... we should run through the course map one more time before we leave Friday."
Another deflection. My patience is wearing thin.
"Callahan." I stop walking, forcing her to stop too. "What aren't you telling me?"
Rain begins to fall, light drops that promise to become heavier. She looks up at the sky, then back at me, water beading on her dark hair.
"A lot of things," she says finally. "None of which are relevant to my ability to cox."
"Let me be the judge of that."
"No." She steps back. "Some things are private, Lockwood. Even from the almighty team captain."
The firmness in her voice shouldn't be surprising, but somehow it is. Few people stand up to me this directly.
"If it affects the team—"
"It won't." She cuts me off. "I promised I'd get you through Riverside, and I will. Trust that if nothing else."
The rain falls harder now, plastering her hair to her face. She looks smaller somehow, vulnerable in a way I rarely see. Yet the determination in her eyes remains undiminished.
"I do," I say, surprising myself with the admission. "Trust you, that is. On the water."
Something shifts in her expression, a softening I can't quite interpret. "That's all I'm asking for."
We continue walking, picking up pace as the rain intensifies. When we reach her dorm, she turns to me at the entrance.
"Thanks for the escort," she says. "Unnecessary, but... appreciated."
"Team takes care of team," I reply simply.
She studies me for a moment, as if seeing something new. "Is that what we are, Lockwood? A team?"
"What else would we be?"
A small, enigmatic smile touches her lips. "Goodnight, Captain."
She disappears inside, leaving me standing in the rain with the distinct impression that I've missed something important. A piece of the puzzle just beyond my grasp.
On the walk back to the team house, I sort through the evening's observations. Reese's distraction. The bruise on her wrist. Her hesitation about Riverside. The text that made her pale. Eli's unusual protectiveness. Cameron's attentive gaze.
Individual data points that suggest a pattern I can't quite discern.
Yet.
But I will. Because whatever affects one member of this team affects us all. And Reese Callahan, whether she likes it or not, is part of this team now.
My team.