Page 100 of Thin Ice

My breath stopped.

"You should call him, Alex."

The line was quiet. Liam was staring at me, reading my face, trying to follow a conversation he could only hear half of.

"Coach," I said.

"Yeah."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. You were one of the best rowers I ever coached. That's not something I say to make you feel better. That's a fact I'll put on the record anytime anyone asks." He paused. "Call Hale. Tonight if you can."

He hung up. I sat there with the phone in my hand.

"What happened?" Liam said.

I told him everything. "He said to call Hale."

Liam's face went through three things in about two seconds. Confusion, then understanding, then something I didn't have a word for. Something that looked like the moment in a race when you've been behind for a thousand meters and the gap starts closing and you realize you're not just surviving anymore. You're gaining.

"Remy said it," Liam said.

"I know."

"And Noah said—"

"I know."

We looked at each other.

"I'll call him," Liam said.

He pulled up Hale's contact and dialed and handed me the phone. Hale picked up on the first ring. Like he'd been waiting.

"Coach Hale. It's Alex Harrington."

"I know who it is." His voice was gruff and warm and exactly what I remembered from the coaching launch, the megaphone, the mornings on the river. "I've been expecting you."

"Coach Eldridge said I should talk to you."

"I'm going to ask you one question. Ready?"

"Yes."

"I want you to think before you answer."

"Okay."

"Do you want to row?"

I looked at Liam. He was watching me, his hand on my knee, his body leaning toward the phone like he could will the conversation forward.

"Yes," I said. "More than anything."

"Then come row for me."

The room went still. Liam's fingers dug into my knee. His eyes were wet.