Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“I love you, Jay.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ryan
I stood at the edge of the lake. A golden glow shone down on the peaceful water. The wind whipped my hair, carrying the earthy aroma of the lake. This was the moment I had been training for, the culmination of endless early mornings and ass-busting workouts.
The race was about to begin, and I was ready—physically and mentally.
“We got this,” Travis said, slapping my shoulder as he climbed into coxswain position on the racing shell.
The other crews looked impressive—muscle, power, and a hunger to win. This was a group made up of the best of the best. They’d all come out to California, where the final race was being held. It was about an hour-and-a-half drive away from campus: Star Lake.
The crowd was huge, all of them in different colors representing the schools they rooted for. They gathered on the shore that stretched around the lake.
I looked around, not expecting to see any familiar faces, but hoping to see one in particular.
It was a selfish kind of hope. I knew he wouldn’t feel comfortable being here, and I’d never force that kind of experience on him. He had done more than enough this morning, waking up extra early and sneaking out of the dorm to bring back breakfast for us. It was a beautiful gesture, and it set me up for the rest of the day.
I was excited to get back to the dorm, hopefully with trophy in hand. I planned on celebrating all night with Jay.
The racing shell was already almost full. I hopped on and took my seat, rolling my neck and letting go of some of the tension.
Adjusting my grip on the oar, I felt the smooth wood beneath my fingers, grounding me in the present moment. My gaze swept over the crowd gathered along the shore one last time. Again, not expecting anything in particular.
And then, there he was—Jay, standing tall near the main dock, his hazel eyes fixed on me, a big and relaxed smile on his face.
He’d made it. He had come. Holy fucking shit.
My heart swelled so big that I was sure my chest was a few beats away from bursting. I blew him a kiss and gave him an excited wave, which he instantly returned. A surge of emotion welled up inside me at the sight of him, a blend of gratitude and determination. With Jay on the shore, I knew I could conquer anything. The swell of inspiration hit me like a tidal wave.
“Ready, crew?” Coach’s voice broke through my thoughts, snapping me back to the task at hand.
I nodded. My jaw tensed with determination. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The starter’s signal pierced the air. We were off. With a deep breath, I propelled myself forward, the shell slicing through the water with each powerful stroke. I pushed past the instant burn in my muscles, every fiber of my being focused on the race ahead.
The other racing shells surged forward beside us, their oars cutting through the water with precision and speed. Yale’s shell, sleek and formidable, pulled ahead with effortless grace, the rowers’ synchronized movements a clear testament to their skill. Princeton’s crew, fierce and determined, kept pace beside us, their eyes locked on the prize.
Yeah, well, so were we.
Water splashed around us. The lake stretched on ahead, the clear skies reflected on the glass-like surface.
Except… well, we began falling behind. The other shells gained ground with every stroke. This couldn’t happen.
Especially not with Jay in the crowd.
Travis kept us focused, keeping his calm as he called out to us. His voice echoed over the water as we dug our oars deep into the lake, pushing myself harder than ever before.
The sun beat down on us, intensifying the heat and adding an extra layer of challenge to an already hard-as-fuck race. Sweat beaded on my forehead. Dripped down my face. I ignored the salty burn as it slipped into my eyes.
We neared the halfway point, two shells behind first. The tension in the shell was thick. The leading shells pulling further ahead with every stroke.
Travis continued to push us.
Our oars sliced through the water with synchronized precision. We’d done better in practice than this. What was going on? The gap between us and the leading shells kept growing.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, Travis must have spotted a slight shift in the wind, a ripple on the surface of the water that hinted at an opportunity. Without hesitation, he called out to the crew, directing us to adjust our strokes to take advantage of the shift while still sticking to our lane.
With a blast of combined adrenaline, we surged forward. The shell glided across the water like the blades of an ice skater across ice. The cheers of the crowd blended into a distant roar as we closed the gap, inch by agonizing inch.