CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #3
"The team was stagnant before you came." I turn her face toward me, making her meet my eyes. "We were going through the motions. Winning, sure, but not really connecting. You changed that."
"I destroyed it—"
"You revealed what was already broken." I think about all those practices before she arrived. Technically perfect but soulless. "Gray ruled through fear and control. Jackson barely spoke. Eli hid behind analysis. We rowed like machines, not men."
"At least you could row."
"That wasn't rowing. That was synchronised emptiness." I brush her hair back from her face. "You want to know what would happen if you left?"
She nods slightly.
"Gray would become even more controlling, trying to maintain order through sheer will. He'd probably have a breakdown by May."
"He'd be fine—"
"He was ready to snap before you even showed up. The weight of being perfect was crushing him. You gave him permission to be human."
She tries to look away, but I don't let her.
"Jackson would retreat completely. That breakthrough he had, that confidence? Gone. He'd go back to being a ghost who happens to row."
"He has Eli—"
"Who would shut down emotionally without you. You think Eli opened up to Jackson by accident? You created the space for that to happen."
"That's not—"
"Zane would lose the one person who actually sees him as more than comic relief. Beckett would go back to his empty conquests, never letting anyone past his defenses. Tyler would bury himself in numbers because it's easier than feeling. Cameron would disappear even further into silence."
"You're being dramatic."
"I'm being honest." I pull her closer. "And me? I'd lose the only person who's ever made me want to be more than the enforcer. More than the guy who keeps the peace."
She's crying again, silent tears sliding down her cheeks.
"I can't be that important," she whispers.
"You transformed eight individual rowers into something that could have been extraordinary. We're just too stupid and scared to see it yet."
"The administration—"
"Can go to hell."
"My parents—"
"Don't get to dictate your life."
"But if I stay, if this continues, you'll all lose everything. Your rowing careers, your futures—"
"You are our future." The words come out fierce, certain. "Every single one of us would choose you over rowing. Even Gray, though he'd probably have an aneurysm admitting it."
She lets out a watery laugh. "Gray hates me right now."
"Gray hates that he needs you. It’s not the same thing." I think about our captain, how he watches her even when he’s hating himself for it. "He's fighting it the hardest because he feels it the most."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Nothing about this makes sense. Eight Alphas shouldn't be able to share an Omega. A cox shouldn't be able to command a boat through pheromones and will alone. We shouldn't work, but we do. When we stop fighting it, we're magic on the water."
She's quiet, processing.
"If you left," I continue, "we wouldn't just lose our cox. We'd lose the person who makes us whole. Who challenges Gray's need for control, who gives Jackson courage, who sees through Beckett's bullshit, who makes Zane feel valued."
"You'd find another cox—"
"We don't want another cox. We want you."
"Even if it costs you everything?"
"What's everything compared to nothing?" I ask. "Because that's what we'd be without you. Eight guys in a boat, going through the motions, winning empty victories."
"You can't know that—"
"I can and I do." I cup her face in both hands. "You think you're the problem, but you're the solution. We just need time to figure it out."
"Time we don't have. Torres gave us two weeks—"
"Then we'll make the most of them."
"And if we can't fix this?"
"Then we'll face the consequences together. As a pack." I lean my forehead against hers. "But you don't get to make the noble sacrifice, Reese. You don't get to fall on your sword to save us from ourselves."
"Why not?"
"Because we won't let you." I kiss her softly. "I won't let you."
"Bo—"
"Promise me. Promise you won't run."
She's silent for so long I think she won't answer.
"I promise I won't leave without talking to everyone first," she finally says.
It's not the promise I wanted, but it's something.
"Good enough." I pull her back down against my chest. "Now sleep. Tomorrow we start fixing this mess."
"How?"
"I don't know yet. But we'll figure it out."
She yawns, exhaustion finally winning. "You're awfully confident for someone without a plan."
"I don't need a plan. I have you."
"That's circular logic."
"That's faith, Callahan. Something this team needs to remember how to have."
She doesn't respond, her breathing evening out as sleep claims her. But I stay awake, holding her close, thinking about everything she said.
The idea of her leaving, of her married to some appropriate Alpha who'd never understand her fire, makes my instincts burn in protest. She belongs with us. To us. The team knows it, even if they're too caught up in their own damage to admit it.
Tomorrow we go back. Tomorrow we face the mess we've made.
But tonight, she's here. Safe. Protected. Ours, even if she doesn't fully realize it yet.
And I'll be damned if I let her go without a fight.