CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
Tyler appears from the hallway, Cameron and Beckett behind him. The whole team, gathered without being summoned. Like they were waiting for something. Maybe for this.
"So talk," Gray challenges, sitting back in his chair and throwing an arm over the one beside him. Challenging us with that authority that makes him infuriating and impossible to resist at the same time.
I take a breath, feeling Bo's steady presence beside me. "Tomorrow's regatta is going to be a disaster if we keep going like this."
"Tell us something we don't know," Beckett mutters.
"Fine. How about this?" I move further into the room, claiming space. "We're rowing like shit because we're eight individuals trying to pretend we're a team. But we stopped being just a team the moment you all decided to protect me during my heat."
Gray's jaw tightens. "That was biology—"
"Bullshit." The word cracks through the room. "Tyler could have gone to the library. Beckett could have hit a party. Cameron could have disappeared like he usually does. But you didn't. You circled the wagons. You acted like—"
"A pack," Zane says quietly from the kitchen doorway.
The word fills the space around us with all the implications everyone in the room is desperate to avoid. But avoiding the problems is what got us here, not what’s going to fix us.
"We're not a pack," Gray says, but his voice lacks conviction. "We're a crew."
"We're both," Jackson says suddenly. Everyone turns to stare at him. He's been nearly silent since Sunday, but now he meets Gray's gaze directly. "And pretending otherwise is killing us."
"Jackson—" Eli starts.
"No." Jackson stands, and there's something different about him. He’s stronger.
More certain. Every bit the Alpha that fucked me and Eli into submission.
"I'm done being quiet about this. Yes, I claimed Reese.
Without asking permission. Without committee approval. And you know what? I'd do it again."
"You selfish—" Gray starts.
"Selfish?" Jackson's laugh is sharp. "For three years I've been invisible on this team. Following your lead, never speaking up, never pushing back. The one time I follow my instincts instead of your rules, and suddenly I'm selfish?"
"You put everything at risk—"
"Everything was already at risk." Jackson's voice rises, and it's so unusual that everyone stares. "We've been hemorrhaging for months. Perfect strokes hiding the fact that we hate being in that boat together."
The silence that follows is deafening.
"Speak for yourself," Gray says coldly.
"Fine. I hate it." Jackson looks around the room. "I hate the silent practices where no one talks. I hate the way we celebrate wins like they're business transactions. I hate that after three years, I know Tyler's split times better than I know his middle name."
"It's James," Tyler says quietly.
Jackson blinks. "What?"
"My middle name. It's James."
"Exactly my point." Jackson turns back to Gray. "We know nothing about each other except our erg scores."
"So what do we do?" Cameron asks, his rare voice cutting through the tension.
"We admit what's actually happening here," I say, finding my voice. "Jackson marking me wasn't the problem. It just exposed what's been building all season."
Gray's jaw tightens. "Which is?"
"We're not just a crew anymore." I meet his eyes directly. "Haven't been since the first time you all closed ranks around me. You can pretend it's about rowing, but we all know better."
"The administration—" Tyler starts.
"Will do what they do," Bo cuts in. "But Torres gave us two weeks to fix our performance, not our dynamics. We can row our way out of this if we stop tearing each other apart."
"How?" Gray demands. "We can barely get through a practice without—"
"Without what? Wanting to kill each other? Or wanting each other?" Beckett asks, and the bluntness makes everyone freeze.
"That's not—"
"Bullshit," Beckett interrupts Gray. "We're all feeling it. The pull. The need. The way we orbit around her like she's gravity itself. Jackson just admitted it first."
"By claiming her without—"
"Without your permission?" Eli speaks up, moving to stand beside Jackson. "Maybe that's the problem, Gray. You think everything needs your permission."
Gray's face flushes. "I'm the captain—"
"Of a boat," Eli continues. "Not our lives. Not our choices. Not our feelings."
"Someone has to maintain order—"
"Order?" Zane laughs from the doorway, flour on his shirt. "What order? We're a mess. Have been since October."
"We're undefeated—"
"We're machines," Cameron says quietly, and his contribution makes everyone listen. "Efficient. Effective. And utterly fucking empty."
Gray looks around the room, searching for support, but finds only exhaustion in his teammates' faces.
"So what are you suggesting?" he asks finally.
"Stop trying to captain our emotions," I tell him. "In the boat, you set the rhythm. On land? We're equals. All of us."
"That's not how teams work—"
"We're not just a team anymore," Jackson says firmly. "Reese is right. We're something else. Something more complicated. And fighting it is what's destroying us."
"Accepting it could destroy us faster," Gray counters.