"No. Just…life."
"I get it. High altitude, heavy training, and the Olympics coming up… it messes with the mind as much as the body.”
Jackson bit back a grin. “You make it sound poetic. That what they teach you at Oxford?”
“I live with a theatre nerd now; had to get better with my words,” Darius replied with a stupidly fond smile. “Look, I know you’ve been carrying a lot, and I know you think you’re alone in it. You’re not. But…you need to remember who you are, Jax. Don’t let…anyone make you doubt yourself. Not your training, not the team, not—” He paused, measuring his words. “—not anyone you care about.”
Jackson’s chest tightened. He nodded, words he couldn't say, truths he couldn't share sticking in his throat. “Yeah. I know.” He picked at the grass beneath him. “How’s Jamie doing in the townhouse on his own?”
Darius smiled, his eyes lighting up the way they always did when he talked about Jamie. “He’s good. Waiting to hear if he’s got on the course he wants, so he’s been working like crazy to distract himself.”
“You should throw a party when he gets accepted,” Jackson said with a smile.
“That’s actually a really good idea.”
“I do have them occasionally.”
Jackson continued to pick at the grass as they chatted, half his mind continually circling back to Elliot. Eventually, Darius left for his scheduled sports massage, but Jackson continued to stare out over the mountains, feeling every impossible thing at once: longing, frustration, and wonder. He wondered if this feeling hecouldn’t name really was love, and whether that meant anything at all.
Chapter 24
Elliot
London, 4 weeks to the Olympic Marathon
The actual members of the GB Olympic Marathon team had been away for three weeks, and Elliot had hated every moment. At least when Jackson had been in London, he'd been able to pine from a shorter distance. Quietly watching him run was better than not seeing him at all.
He knew it was all his fault; he’d driven him away at the worst possible time. It wasn’t unexpected to see the barrage of photos on Jackson’s socials, a veritable parade of the hottest, most eligible athletes in Europe all together in the idyllic setting where he’d first fallen for Jackson Jennings, but it still hurt. Every photo, every video took him back to that searing jealousy he'd felt when he’d seen Jackson with the two Italian women in the hotel lobby, now though, he knew in his bones that he’d lost him.
His phone buzzed with another call from his father that Elliot sent straight to voicemail. He wasn’t sure what the revelation his father had shared meant for him, but he knew what he felt: betrayal. The idea of Chris enjoying the lead-up to the Olympics unhindered by months of cheating stung, but it was nothingcompared to the lie he’d been allowed to believe for so long. The lie that had formed so much of his approach to life that he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to untangle himself from it.
He'd been fourteen when his father had suddenly dropped out of the Olympics and moved the family away from Nottingham, citing an ambiguous injury and abandoning his Loughborough training base and the sport entirely. It had felt so obvious at the time that it was because of Elliot, because he'd known what few others did. He'd felt the visceral shame when his father and the programme head caught him behind the stands, seen the embarrassment on his father's face when he realised who he was with. Now though, with new information, it didn’t feel nearly so cut and dry.
He didn’t want to think anymore. All Elliot wanted was some kind of distraction. Anything to get his mind off the disaster of his life. He flicked through socials absently until he stumbled on a picture that made his heart lurch into his throat. Stefan, the triathlete they’d met in their last block, had posted a group shot, and Jackson was front and centre, Stefan’s arm slung around him, lips brushing his ear so intimately Elliot wanted to scream. It was the fucking caption that did him in, though:This altitude block wouldn’t be the same without you. Followed by a fucking fire emoji. Who did that, anyway?
Elliot saw red. He knew he had no claim on Jackson, but the impotent rage inside him disagreed. He hurled his phone across the room.
A week later, they were all back. Elliot could barely look at Jackson without his eyes starting to sting. They were at the track for a group workout. The Olympic Opening Ceremonies were barely a week away, though none of them would attend. Restwas paramount at this stage, so they'd be staying in London until the final week of the Olympics, when the team would fly out. Elliot wouldn't be joining them. Anders's concessions to him didn't seem to extend that far. Watching them train was torture. It reminded him of everything he was missing out on. And not even just the Olympics.
Jackson jogged over. “Wait for me after?” he asked. “I…I want to talk to you about something.”
“Of course,” Elliot replied instantly. The hope blooming in his chest felt premature, but he couldn’t tamp it down.
“Might want to stop with the sad puppy look if you don’t want people knowing what’s going on there,” Anders said.
“What?” Elliot flushed. “I’m not—there’s not—”
“Right. Of course.”
Jackson tilted his head, as if he were studying Elliot. Straightening his posture, Elliot turned to Anders. “What do you need from me?”
“Check form, any last-minute opportunities for improvements. Any concerns.”
Elliot smiled. “I have plenty of critiques of Jennings's form,” he said. Then he looked at Jackson, worried he’d take the quip the wrong way.
Jackson grinned back, and Elliot’s heart rate kicked up a notch. Maybe he hadn’t completely ruined things.
“I’m sure you do,” Anders replied.
