“His ankle?” Jackson asked.
Seb sighed. “Yeah. The Achilles was… Well, he needs to come in and get it looked at properly.”
Jackson nodded tightly. Despite how angry he was, and how mixed up his feelings were right now, despite how much he wanted to shake Elliot for not getting his ankle checked out properly like he’d promised, he was mostly just really fucking worried about him.
“I take it he’s already left?” Jackson asked.
Seb snorted. “Bundled off by his father before I had a chance to treat him properly. Some bollocks about disappointment and letting himself down. Honestly, it’s a fucking miracle he didn’t have a rupture. How he managed to finish the race at all is beyond me.”
Jackson swallowed. From what little Elliot had told him, the worst place for him to be right now was with his father. It wouldn't be good for him to be with the man he was so terrified of letting down that he constantly put his health and happiness on the line in an attempt to live up to his ridiculous expectations.
Back in his flat, Jackson let his finger hover over the call button next to Elliot’s name in his phone. He wanted to make sure he was alright, but with how they’d left things and with how precarious Elliot’s Olympic chances would be now, Jackson wasn’t sure any contact from him at all would be welcome. He wasn’t sure he could handle hearing his voice either.
When Jackson’s family spilled into his tiny bedsit that evening with a feast of all his favourite foods in hand, he tried his best to engage and be present with them, but every easy gesture of love and support from his family reminded him of Elliot and how he’d never had that.
Jackson's mum stayed behind as the others ushered his father and Noah back to the hotel. She made tea and stood quietly in Jackson's kitchen, smiling softly at the photos tacked to his fridge.
“That young one was a bit of a surprise, wasn’t he?” his mum said.
He had been. Chris Green had always been one to watch, but his London time had been insane, so far under the standard he’d have given even Darius a run for his money.
“Yeah, I don’t think any of us expected that, to be honest.”
His mother hummed. “I always figured it’d be you and Darius with that blond one; the pretty one with a chip on his shoulder who was always beating you.”
“Mum!” Jackson replied, scandalised. “He doesn’t always beat me.”
“Of course not, dear,” she replied. “But certainly more often than this new kid. It’s just unusual, is all. You’d think someone would have noticed a talent like that sooner.”
Jackson nodded. It was unusual. Especially with the times Chris had posted in his last half. He was good, but he wasn’t that good. “He wasn’t a complete unknown. The kid’s a prodigy.There’s been talk about him being a contender for the Olympic team, but today was…it was something else.”
They lapsed into silence. Jackson’s mind drifted to Elliot and the results and what they would mean for his future. His mum leaned against him. "We are so proud of you, ducky," she sobbed. “You’re doing so well and I’m so happy your dad gets to see it.”
"Mum, Mum. It's going to be okay.” Jackson tried to comfort her.
“You work so hard, and you deserve the very best.”
Jackson hugged his mum tight, overwhelmed by the mix of emotions roiling inside him. Gratitude for his family, fear for his father’s health, and a strange mix of guilt and sadness over what Elliot might be going through.
Chapter 20
Elliot
London, May, 15 weeks to the Olympic Marathon
It was over. It was all fucking over. He could feel it in his bones, he could see it on the leaderboards and in the comments online, and in the set of his father’s jaw when they spoke. He’d failed.
The London Marathon had been what Elliot could only refer to as an unmitigated disaster. It had been painful in a way he had never experienced before, and he’d come bloody close to a DNF. Only the thought of what that would do to his Olympic chances had kept him on the road.
But that wouldn’t matter in the end. He could put all his hope in his relationship with Anders, and discretionary selection, but that seemed like wishful thinking. A time so far off his usual would have them questioning his reliability, in any case.
He’d been too slow, and he knew it. It had been nearly a week, and all Elliot had done was mope around his flat, waiting for the inevitable announcement. Logically, he knew this wasn’t the end of his career. There was more to life than the Olympics, wasn’t that what Jennings had said? He’d almost believed it was true back when he’d had Jennings whispering in his ear that he wasgood enough before falling into bed with him every night. Now he was alone in his flat, refreshing the BBC Sports page for news of the Olympic marathon selection, knowing he was about to lose the only thing he had left.
His phone buzzed across the counter, Anders’s name flashing on the screen. Elliot already knew. He still swiped to answer.
“Coach.”
“Owens. Listen, I wanted to tell you before the announcement goes up.” His measured tone confirmed the worst in Elliot’s mind before the words came. “They’re going with Green and Hewitt,” Anders said. “Times speak for themselves as far as the committee is concerned. I pushed for you. I think they’re making a mistake, but…”
