Page 93 of False Catch

"That's why we're going to exhaust ourselves on the water," I tell him. "Can't overthink if you're too tired to think."

As the team disperses to prepare, Jackson approaches me. "You really don't regret it? The claiming?"

I touch the mark on my neck. It’s still a little tender but I don’t mind. "Do you?"

"No," he says immediately. "Never. I just... I know it's complicated everything."

"Everything was already complicated," I remind him. "You just made it visible."

He nods, some tension leaving his face. I step into him cautiously and he lets me. We wrap each other up in a hug that smooths over all the leftover tension from the past few weeks and the conversation we just had. Eli watches from the other side of the room with a soft look on his face.

"Four o'clock," I tell them. "Be ready to work."

"Always," Eli says, and there's something in his eyes that wasn't there before. Hope, maybe.

As I leave to get my gear, I feel the shift in energy. Not fixed, not healed, but moving. We might crash and burn tomorrow, but at least we'll do it as ourselves.

And somehow, that feels like victory already.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Gray

The water is glass-smooth at four o'clock, perfect conditions that feel like mockery given our current state. I stand on the dock at the boathouse, watching my team—my pack, apparently—gather their oars with none of the usual pre-practice energy.

Reese arrives with Bo in his truck, and I force myself not to react to how natural they look together. To the easy way he touches her lower back, guiding her toward the cox's seat. To the way she leans into him for just a second before straightening her shoulders and becoming our coxswain again.

"Standard warm-up?" she asks me, and there's something different in her tone. Not challenging, but not deferential either. Equal.

"Twenty minutes steady state, then we'll do some technique work." I meet her eyes directly. "Your call on the power pieces after."

She nods, surprised but pleased. "Let's load up."

We get the boat on the water with minimal fuss, everyone falling into familiar patterns. Jackson's moving with more confidence, Eli's right beside him. Even Cameron seems more present, less like he's observing from a distance.

"All eight, sit ready," Reese calls through the cox box, her voice clear despite the damage from yesterday's disaster. "Ready all... row."

The first strokes are rough. We're out of time, out of sync, eight individuals pulling instead of one crew moving. But then Reese starts talking.

"Long and steady, no rush. Jackson, match Tyler's shoulder rotation. Eli, you're early on the catch. Gray, set the rhythm and trust them to follow."

Trust. That word again.

I focus on my stroke, on making it as clean and consistent as possible. Not forcing, not controlling, just rowing. Behind me, I feel Bo fall into sync first, then Beckett. One by one, the boat starts to come together.

"Better," Reese says. "Zane, relax your grip. Cameron, beautiful length. Let's take the rate up two beats on my call. Ready... now."

The boat responds. Not perfectly, but together. The familiar rhythm starts to build, that feeling when eight becomes one. It's been missing for so long I'd forgotten how it felt.

"That's it," Reese's voice carries a note of excitement. "Feel that? That's what we're capable of. Let's do some pause drills. Pause at the finish... row."

Technical work usually feels like punishment, but today it's meditation. We focus on the basics—blade depth, timing, body position. Things we haven't properly addressed in weeks because we've been too busy falling apart.

Tyler's rowing better than he has all week, his analytical mind finally quiet enough to let his body work. Zane's found his rhythm again - not the forced power he's been using to compensate, but the natural flow that made him recruit-worthy. Jackson and Eli are moving in perfect synchronization, like they're sharing the same nervous system.

Cameron, usually our silent bow seat, actually calls out a technical adjustment to Beckett - just two words, "catch angle" - but Beckett fixes it immediately. That's the thing about Cameron: when he speaks, everyone listens.

"Excellent," Reese calls. "Let's build into some power pieces. Three sets of twenty, increasing pressure each set. First one at three-quarter pressure."