A grin stretched across Elliot’s face. “Is this…is this a sore spot, Jennings?” he asked. “Do you not like me calling out your tardiness?”
Jackson didn’t reply, just sitting on the edge of the bed as he swapped his cosy knit socks for his running ones. When he looked up, Elliot was hovering over him. “Seriously,” he said, tilting Jackson’s head up gently as he straddled his lap. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Jackson sighed. “You didn’t upset me. It’s stupid.”
“It probably isn’t.”
“It’s like no matter what I do, how hard I work, I know I shouldn’t be on this team. So it doesn’t matter if I’m late; I don’t deserve to be there anyway.”
“What on earth, Jackson?”
“It’s true, isn’t it? It shouldn’t be me. If Anders hadn’t had that ridiculous grudge…and if you hadn’t got injured.”
Elliot stopped him. “No, look. First round or not, you were always going to be selected. You’re an Olympian, love. You earned it.”
The term of endearment shot straight to Jackson’s heart. This man was going to be the death of him. He was also suddenly very much aware that he had a pile of Elliot Owens in his lap. Elliot smirked at him and ground their hips together. “You like it when I call you that, don’t you, love?”
“No. Stop. Bad Elliot.” Jackson groaned. “We really will be late if you keep that up.”
“Sorry,” Elliot said. He pulled back from Jackson, returning to the bathroom. He didn’t seem sorry at all though. In fact, he seemed incredibly smug.
Jackson finished putting on his training gear, trying to compose himself. Elliot came out, looking perfectly coiffed and ready for action in his tracksuit, with a coach’s whistle and stopwatch around his neck.
It unlocked a kink Jackson hadn’t realised he had, undoing all the efforts he’d made to calm down, when Elliot blew the whistle in his face and shouted, “Get moving, Jennings!”
Part Four – Games
Go out there and show the world what Team GB is made of.
Chapter 26
Elliot
London, 10 days to the Olympic Marathon
The morning the team was meant to fly out, Elliot's phone buzzed before he’d finished making coffee. It was the first night he’d spent alone since getting back together with Jackson, and he’d only suggested it because he truly believed his boyfriend needed to get some sleep before travelling for his Olympic debut. He’d missed him like hell the whole night.
Dad
Be sharp. Don’t make this complicated.
No explanation, but Elliot could hazard a guess at what was happening. His dad had seemed to be giving him space the last week, and he’d only reach out now if it was big. His chest tightened. It had to be Chris. Another buzz—this time it was Anders’s name lighting up the screen.
Elliot swiped to answer. “Hey, Coach.”
“Morning,” Anders said, all brisk efficiency. “I need you in for a fitness assessment. Today. As soon as you can get here.”
There it was. No delay. No warning.
Elliot leaned against the counter, his pulse thudding in his taped-up ankle. “Is everything okay?”
A beat. Anders wasn’t good at lying, which meant the pause said everything. “Just get here.”
The line went dead.
Elliot stared at his reflection in the black surface of the kettle—jaw tight, eyes sharper than he felt.
Chris must have messed up. Missed a test? Taken something stupid? God, the kid was just getting started, and now his whole life might’ve gone up in smoke. Elliot scrubbed a hand over his face, guilt twisting with something colder, harder. Because under the worry, under the pity, there was a pulse of brutal clarity.
