“Jackson. Love,” Elliot interrupted. “You ran a fucking incredible race. You’re an Olympian. And you’ll be back here again in four years. Get out of your head.”
“I’ll be back here again with you. And we’ll be fighting for silver and gold all the way.”
Elliot smiled. They would be.
“Oy, idiots.” Elliot turned to see that Hewitt and his partner had made it over to them. “You need to stop flirting, refuel, and get checked over in medical before the medal ceremony,” Darius said.
Elliot smiled and reluctantly released Jackson to his own waiting cheering squad, made up of the entire Jennings clan.
He definitely needed to refuel. He was bloody starving. Jackson seemed to agree as he heard him say to his dad, “I could murder a chicken sandwich right about now.”
Elliot laughed and went to fling an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Come on, killer. Let’s get through medical, and we'll find one for you.”
Chapter 32
Jackson
Four hours after the Olympic Marathon
Missing a medal had been a bit of a hit to his ego, but as he looked around the crowded tables in the fast-food joint they’d stumbled into, Jackson had never felt as happy as he did right then. Bracketed between his parents and his boyfriend, whose hand he hadn’t dropped except for post-competition testing and health checks. His heart was full.
Darius had absconded with Jamie immediately after the medal ceremony, so Jackson had dragged the Duke and Darius’s sister, Selena, along with their party as well. He was forever grateful to them for getting them all here. Plus, there was something incredibly amusing about seeing Duke Archibald Hewitt eating a cheeseburger at a plastic table.
Jackson had just finished mowing his way through two chicken sandwiches and a portion of fries one-handed when they walked in: Journalists, with cameras, and a lot of them.
The duke let out a long-suffering sigh. “Apologies, they have a sixth sense for us sometimes.”
But it wasn’t the aristocrat among them that the journalists were looking for. Almost as one, their eyes fixed on Elliotand Jackson, on their clasped hands and closeness. Jackson bumped Elliot’s knee, attempting to reassure him, but he was nervous too. This kind of attention wasn’t something he was used to. Media coverage had always been controlled, arranged in advance so he could prepare, and social media was his to say what he wanted, portray what he wanted. This was overwhelming in the worst way.
He heard Elliot swallow hard next to him.
Anders rose as they approached. The group with their cameras bypassed the restaurant staff easily, who Jackson was certain weren’t paid enough to deal with this kind of thing. The duke was at Anders's side in a flash. Jackson’s father had stood now as well, moving to their coach’s other side, the three of them creating a wall in front of the table.
“I’m going to ask you once to leave this establishment and leave our boys alone,” the duke said calmly.
“And where is your son, Lord Hewitt?” one of the reporters asked.
“I’d imagine he’ll be celebrating his medal with his partner,” the duke replied calmly. “I’m once again going to suggest you leave and allow these boys to do the same.” His voice was deeper now.
“Come on, this is the story of the Olympics,” a pushy tabloid journalist called out. "A brutal rivalry ending in a kiss at the finish line. It's almost better than the doping scandal."
“I believe the man asked you to leave,” an ice-cold voice came from the other side of the mob.
Elliot’s head snapped up from where he’d been staring at his plate, trying to be unobtrusive.
“Carl Owens. Just the man we wanted to see.” The journalist grinned as Elliot’s father pushed through. "You've got one athlete banned and another consorting with his opponent—any comments?"
“Out,” the duke growled. “Right now.” He signalled to his waiting bodyguards to remove the offending group.
“Damn,” Elliot whispered at his side.
Jackson nodded absently, watching as Selena left her seat next to Beth and rushed to her father’s side, whispering furiously to him.
Elliot’s father approached the table. “Can I join you?” he asked. The question was directed only at Elliot.
Jackson tightened his grip on his boyfriend’s hand as he watched him nod slowly.
"Congratulations, both of you," Mr. Owens said. "That was some race."
