CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Gray
The hour between races is the longest of my life.
The team won't look at me. Reese won't speak to me except for necessary commands.
Jackson looks ready to throw me in the lake.
Even Tyler, usually rational, keeps giving me these calculating looks like he's reassessing everything he thought he knew about me.
"We need to warm up," Reese says, her voice flat. Professional. Empty of the fire that usually drives us.
"Reese, please, just let me—"
"Get in the boat, Lockwood."
Lockwood. Not Gray. The distance in that single word cuts deeper than any accusation.
We row to the starting line for the second race in poisonous silence. Our warm-up is mechanical, disconnected. Eight individuals who happen to be in the same boat. Bellwater State and Crescent Bay pull up to the other lanes, their crews moving with the unity we've lost.
"Can we at least function for the next six minutes?" I ask, desperation leaking through.
"We'll row," Jackson says coldly. "That's all you deserve."
"I didn't—"
"Starting positions," the official calls.
We back into the platform. I can feel the hostility radiating from every seat behind me. This is going to be a disaster.
"Row," Reese calls when the flag drops, but there's no passion in it. No drive.
We move off the line, but we're not together. Bo's pulling harder than necessary, like he's trying to punish the water. Jackson's completely out of sync with Eli for the first time all season. Zane's not even trying to match Tyler's rhythm.
"Timing," Reese calls, but her heart's not in it.
Bellwater walks through us like we're standing still. Crescent Bay is already a length up and pulling away.
"Power through—" Reese starts, then stops. Like she can't even pretend to care.
We're falling apart. Not just losing—imploding. By the thousand-meter mark, we're dead last and getting worse. Other crews are going to lap us at this rate.
"This is fucking embarrassing," Beckett pants between strokes.
"Good," Jackson spits. "He should be embarrassed."
"Can we deal with this later?" Tyler manages.
"There might not be a later," Cameron observes quietly.
He's right. If we row like this at regionals, we won't even qualify for nationals. Everything we've worked for will be gone.
The last five hundred meters are agony. Not physical—we're barely trying hard enough for that. It's the emotional weight of feeling everything we'd built crumble. We limp across the finish line dead last, fifteen seconds behind Crescent Bay.
"Let it run," Reese says quietly.
The paddle back to the dock is silent. Coaches from other teams are staring. Some look confused, others smug. Everyone knows something's wrong with Sable Ridge.
"Thirty minutes until the final," Reese announces once we're back on land. "Do whatever you need to do."
She walks away without looking at any of us. Bo starts to follow, but she holds up a hand without turning. "Alone."
The team scatters. I'm left standing by the trailer, completely isolated. This is my fault, but not the way they think.
"Gray."
I turn to find Cameron watching me. Of all people, our silent bow seat is the only one who hasn't walked away.
"That video's not from last week," he says, his voice hollow and deep.
"No."
"But the scratches are real."
I close my eyes. "Yes."
"So explain."
I look around, making sure we're alone. "Last Wednesday night. My father called. There was a charity function at the club. The Harrington Gala—major donors, society people, the usual bullshit. I was ordered to attend."
Cameron just watches, waiting.
"He'd arranged for Sophia Pemberton to be my date. Her father runs the second-largest shipping company on the east coast. It's been planned for months, before Reese, before any of this."
"And you went."
"I had to. If I didn't, my father would have come to campus. Started digging into why I was refusing. Found out the truth about Reese, about the team dynamics, about everything."
"So you hid her."
The words sting because they're true. "I was trying to protect her.
My father would... yes, he met her at dinner.
Yes, he knows her family has money and connections.
But finding out she's an Omega? Finding out about the mixed-designation team?
Finding out I'm one of eight Alphas orbiting around her?
" I laugh bitterly. "He'd see it as a scandal waiting to happen.
The Callahans might have wealth, but tradition matters as much as pedigree to him.
Add in the pack dynamics and he'd use every connection he has to blacklist us from elite rowing clubs, kill our chances at nationals, make sure none of us get picked up by Olympic development. He owns half the selection committee."
"And Kinsley?"
"Was at the gala. Of course. Her family runs in the same circles.
" I run my hand through my hair. "She cornered me during cocktails.
Started talking about the team, about Reese, making threats.
I tried to walk away, but she grabbed me.
Hugged me in front of everyone like we were old friends.
That's when she did it—dragged her nails down my back hard enough to break skin through my shirt.
I fucking knew she was up to something."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"Because then I'd have to explain why I was there.
Why I was with Sophia. Why I didn't bring Reese to meet society after she'd already met my family.
" My voice cracks. "She was at Sunday dinner with my parents as my girlfriend, and a few days later I'm at a gala with someone else. How does that look?"
Cameron's quiet for a moment. "Like betrayal."
"I know." I slump against the trailer. "I fucked up. But I didn't cheat. That video is from January, before Reese even transferred. Kinsley must have recorded it without me knowing and held onto it."
"The audio?"
"Edited. Spliced. Fucking AI. I don't know. But I haven't touched her since Reese joined the team. I haven't wanted to."
"Then tell them that."
"You think they'll believe me? After I hid the gala? After I showed up with scratches I couldn't explain?" I laugh bitterly. "I couldn't even tell them where I was Wednesday night."
"You were at practice Wednesday."
"After. I went to the gala after. Got back at three AM, slept in my car because I couldn't face going to the house."
Cameron studies me for a long moment. "You're an idiot."
"I know."
"She deserved the truth."
"I know."
"They all did."
"I KNOW." The words come out as a roar, all my frustration and self-hatred boiling over. "I know I fucked up. I know I should have told them. But I was trying to protect her from my world, from my father, from all the shit that comes with being a Lockwood."
"That wasn't your choice to make."
He's right. God, he's right.
"The final race is in twenty minutes," Cameron says. "You can either explain now and hope they listen, or we lose this one too and destroy any chance of salvaging the season."
"They won't listen. Not with Kinsley's poison in their ears."
"Then make them." He turns to go, then pauses. "I believe you, Gray. The man I know who’s been falling for Reese all season wouldn't throw it away for Kinsley Adams. I’ll figure out a way to help you prove it, but you’ve got to man up to your part in this."
He walks away, leaving me alone with the truth that might be too late to matter.
I find them gathered by the dock, preparing for the final race. Reese is adjusting her cox box, surrounded by the others like a protective wall.
"We need to talk," I say.
"No," Jackson says immediately. "We don't."
"Two minutes. That's all I'm asking."
"You don't get to ask for anything," Bo says.
"Please." I look directly at Reese. "Just listen. Then you can hate me if you want."
She finally meets my eyes, and the hurt there pierces my chest like an arrow, settles in my stomach like poison. "You have two minutes."
I tell them everything. The gala. Sophia. My father's expectations. Kinsley's ambush. Why I hid it all. The words pour out in a desperate rush, trying to make them understand.
"The video's from January," I finish. "Before you were even at Sable Ridge. She edited the audio to make it sound recent. I swear on everything, I haven't touched her since you joined the team."
Silence.
"You went to a society gala with another woman," Reese says quietly. "After I had dinner with your family. After you called me your girlfriend."
"My father arranged it months ago—"
"You could have said no."
"Not without consequences—"
"You could have told me." Her voice rises. "You could have trusted me enough to tell me the truth instead of sneaking around like I'm some dirty secret you're ashamed of."
"I'm not ashamed—"
"Then why hide me?" She stands, and despite being a foot shorter, she seems to tower over me. "Why not bring me to your precious gala? Why not tell your father's friends about me?"
"Because they'd eat you alive! Because that world is toxic and cruel and—"
"And you didn't think I could handle it? You didn't think I deserved to make that choice myself? I grew up in that world just as much as you did, Gray!"
I have no answer for that.
"Final race," the official calls. "Five minutes to launch."
"We have to go," Tyler says quietly.
"Can we win this?" Eli asks.
Reese looks at all of us, her pack of broken Alphas, and her demeanor shifts. She’s not forgiving me yet, but she’s determined not to punish the others for it.
"Get in the boat," she commands. "All of you."
"Reese—" I start.
"I said get in the boat." Her cox voice is back, full of authority.
"We're going to race. We're going to win.
Then we're going to go home and figure out what the fuck to do about this mess.
But right now, we're going to remember that we're Sable Ridge Crew, and we don't lose to Oakwood and Pine Valley. Understood?"
"Yes, cox," we respond automatically.
"I can't hear you!"
"YES, COX!"
"Then move!"
We launch with two minutes to spare. The anger is still there, the hurt, the betrayal. But underneath it, something else. Stubbornness, maybe. Or the unwavering pride that refuses to allow us to fuck this whole day up. To lose again.
"This doesn't mean you're forgiven," Reese tells me under her breath as we row to the start.
"I know."
"I'm still furious."
"I know."
"But we're going to win this race. Because that's what we do."
"Yes, cox."
"All eight, ready?"
Behind me, seven voices respond with more unity than we've had all day. Not perfect, not healed. But ready to fight.
The starting official raises his flag. We have one chance to salvage something from this disaster of a day.