Page 66 of Racing Hearts

I shake my head, still impressed. Given that horrific history, he should have ended up resenting shells and oars for the rest of his life. Instead, he’s been enthusiastic and joyful about a sport that has caused him so much pain. “And you’re a coach now. A job that you love.”

He nods, even though I didn’t pose it as a question. “I do.”

“That’s impressive, too,” I say. “To get back to it like that.”

His eyes glide away from mine and unspoken words glimmer under the surface of his neutral expression.

I nudge his knee with my toe. “What?”

His mouth ticks. “How do you know I have something to say?”

“You always have something to say.”

Adrian laughs at that, then runs his tongue across his bottom lip. “Yes, I love my job. I love my teams. It’s rewarding to get to be the coach I never had myself. But sometimes…I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like I can’t always be everything to everyone.”

I consider that for a long moment, thinking about all I know about Adrian’s coaching. The ways he changes himself to fit the kids. The ways he takes on a wide variety of roles—head coach, trainer, assistant coach—that at higher levels are separate jobs. He’s got all of those kids, but hardly any adults. He’s surrounded by people without having a team of his own.

“You mean it’s lonely.”

He glances up sharply. “Why did you say that?”

I lift a shoulder. “Probably because I know how you feel. At the training center, I’m surrounded by all these teams—pairs and quads and eights. They all have their crews. They’re all in the thing together. But singles? You have your coach and your training partners, but no one is with you. It’s all on you. Success. Failure. In some ways, it makes it worse, being surrounded by people but still feeling alone.”

“Sure,” Adrian says. “But coaching is different from racing.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Coaching could be worse. When things go right, the athletes get the credit. When things go wrong, you bear the blame. You’re in charge, but you’re not in control. I bet that’s as isolating as it gets.”

A long pause stretches between us. Finally, Adrian swallows, raises his eyes to mine. “I don’t think anyone has ever said it like that before.”

His expression feels like a key setting into its tumblers.

I swallow. “Do you ever talk to people about this stuff? Your mom maybe?”

He shakes his head softly. “My mom is a good person. Kind and gentle and loving and wonderfully supportive in so many ways. But, when it came to rowing…I don’t know. Whenever I’ve brought it up with her, especially when I was having a hard time, she’d always brush it off and say she didn’t want to get involved, or she’d tell me ‘That’s your dad’s domain.’ I think, ultimately, she always had a slightly warped picture of him, sugarcoated maybe. And she loved the idea of rowing as something he and I did together—a way for us to bond. She couldn’t really see it as anything else.”

“What about other rowers?” I ask. “You didn’t stay in touch with any of your teammates after you quit?”

“Over the years, yeah. But I haven’t seen any of them in a while. Not since I moved to California for this job.”

“I see. And…” I hesitate because I want to ask him about his previous relationships. With some benefit of hindsight, I know Maxwell’s support wasn’t really support, but at the same time, I did appreciate having someone to talk to about everything. Big and small. “You’ve never dated a rower?”

Adrian raises an eyebrow. “Are you asking for my dating history?”

I playfully backhand his shoulder, but he catches my hand and twines his fingers through mine. He watches our joined hands for a moment, then answers.

“It always felt like it would be too much to get involved with someone in the sport. Dating is already hard enough. I just didn’t need to add that kind of pressure to it, you know?”

“You made an exception for me,” I observe.

“Because…” He runs his thumb across my knuckles. “Because you push yourself and only yourself. Your dedication is already unique enough, Kath. But it’s even more unique, and even more beautiful, that you have it but don’t force it on anyone else.”

He’s looking at me. And, oh god, I think I could lose myself in his irises. The feeling is so much more than magnetism, or his sharp jade of beauty. It’s about what I see reflected back. The weight of his approval and respect. The connection between us.

And me.

A new version of myself that I have only ever seen reflected in Adrian’s eyes.

Twenty-One