Page 93 of Eight Count Heat
No one responds. The air in our small vessel thickens with pheromones and rain and the complicated reality we now face. I feel their collective awareness like a weight. Eight pairs of eyes now fixed on me, eight bodies suddenly hyper-conscious of my presence.
"Officials confirm first position," I announce after the launch pulls alongside. "Riverside champions."
Still no celebration. No triumphant exclamations or relieved sighs. Just tense silence as we paddle back toward the dock, each stroke carrying us closer to the moment we'll have to acknowledge what's happening.
Gray sits rigidly in front of me, his scent sharp with tension. I can't look away from his tight jaw, the controlled fury at what he undoubtedly perceives as a betrayal.
The dock comes into view through the rain, coaches and teammates waiting to congratulate the victors. Beyond them stands Andrea with the Westlake crew, her expression triumphant despite their loss as she watches our approach. Beside her, Kinsley's smug smile suggests she knows exactly what's happening in our boat.
Of course she does. This was always their plan. Steal my emergency suppressants, force me to race until my medications failed, ensure maximum exposure when it happened. The timing is too perfect to be coincidental.
"Prepare to dock," I direct, voice clipped.
The crew responds, adjustments made with minimal communication. We glide alongside the dock in awkward silence.
One by one, they exit the shell, movements stiff. I remain seated until last, gathering strength for what comes next. When I finally stand, the world tilts, my body protesting the combination of race exertion and advancing heat symptoms.
Bo notices first, his protective instincts kicking in. He steps forward, hand extended to help me from the boat. I take it, grateful for the support as I step onto the dock.
"Thanks," I manage, my voice softer than it should be.
His pupils dilate, nostrils flaring as he gets a concentrated dose of my scent. "Callahan..."
"Not here," I murmur, glancing toward the crowd of spectators and officials. "Please."
Understanding flashes across his features. Without further comment, he nods once, then positions himself between me and the approaching crowd, his broad shoulders creating a buffer of safety. Cameron joins him immediately, flanking my other side without being asked, the two of them forming a protective barrier.
Through the crowd, I catch sight of Andrea and Kinsley pushing closer, phones out, clearly documenting this moment. Waiting for my public breakdown.
Not today. Not like this.
I straighten my shoulders, force my voice to steady. "We need to get to the awards ceremony. I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart."
Bo's eyes flick toward the Westlake pair, understanding immediately. "Right behind you, Cox."
Coach Bennett approaches, oblivious to the situation. "Outstanding race, team! Textbook execution on that turn, Callahan. Exactly what we—" He stops, looking over my face. I probably look like seven levels of fresh hell. "You all right? You look feverish."
"Just exhaustion," Gray steps in smoothly. "Reese pushed herself hard for this win."
Coach studies me with concern. "Maybe you should see the medic."
"No," I say too quickly. "I mean, I'll be fine. Just need to rest."
"Are you sure? You don't look—"
"She's sure," Bo interrupts. "We'll make sure she gets back to the hotel and rests."
Coach doesn't seem convinced but nods. "Alright. Awards ceremony in forty minutes. Get dried off and changed. We need our coxswain looking presentable for the trophy."
As he walks away to congratulate other members of the team, Gray leans in close, his breath warm against my rain-chilled ear. "We need to get you somewhere private. Now."
"The hotel—" I start to say.
"Too far," Gray cuts me off, voice low and urgent. "Too many people between here and there. We need something closer. Something private."
"What about the equipment storage room?" Cameron suggests quietly, eyes scanning the boathouse area. "Should be empty now that all boats are docked."
Gray nods once, decision made, then looks around at the team clustered protectively around me. "Ten minutes. Anyone who can slip away without drawing attention."
