His lower lip was bleeding, a droplet of blood already running down his chin. Noah winced to see it, angry at himself for not being able to control his movement better.
Coach Williams blew her whistle, and play stopped. Everyone went down on one knee.
Noah stood, offering Jace his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Jace murmured, wincing.
Rules-wise, itwasNoah’s fault. Even though there was nothing he could have done to prevent it, he still felt guilty.
“You two okay?” Coach Williams asked.
“I’ll help him clean up,” Noah said, heaving Jace to his feet and leading him off the track.
He sat Jace down on the bench and went for the first aid kit, removing his mouth guard so he could talk without chewing his words.
“I might need some instructions here,” he joked.
Jace laughed, and then winced again. Noah tore the alcohol wipe he’d gotten out of the kit open and dabbed it on Jace’s lip, cleaning the blood away as gently as he could.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Noah said. “Lips bleed a lot.”
“I know,” Jace said. Of course he knew. Noah was just trying to soothe him, though explaining basic medical concepts was probably not the way to do it.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I should have been able to catch myself. Rafe just caught me totally off-guard.”
“And I shoulda fallen better.” Jace spat out his mouth guard once Noah moved his hand away. It had protected his top lip, but they did nothing for the bottom. “I’ll be okay once the bleeding stops.”
Noah offered him a cotton pad, which he took and held against his still-bleeding lip. It would stop in a few minutes, and he’d be fine, but Noah hated to see anyone getting hurt. It was in the nature of the game, and he’d gotten used to it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“You can go back,” Jace said. “No point in both of us sitting out.”
“I hit my knee pretty hard on the way down,” Noah lied. Despite his lack of control in hitting Jace, he’d fallen fairly well. He didn’t want to leave Jace’s side so soon, though.
“That wasn’t even a good lie,” Jace said. “But I appreciate it.”
Noah huffed. “You know me too well. We’re married now. I can’t just leave you while you’re in pain.”
“Does that mean you’re gonna kiss it better?” Jace asked.
Noah swallowed, his heart thudding in his chest. He was sure Jace was joking, but to Noah’s ears, there was a note of hopefulness in his tone. “Is this another game of gay chicken? Because again: already gay, can’t lose.”
“And yet, you’re not leaning in,” Jace mumbled past the cotton pad.
“For the same reason I don’t show up to the junior bouts. There’s no contest, and I try not to punch below my weight.” Noah smirked. Jace was joking. He had to be.
“That’s why I married you. You don’t go out of your way to beat up kids,” Jace said, dabbing at his lip a few times.
“We should start sharing a bed, just so I can exile you to the couch,” Noah responded. Jace couldn’t have been hurt too badly if he was giving Noah hell a handful of seconds later. That was good, though. The jokes meant that Jace wasn’t mad at him.
“Trust me, if weweresharing a bed, you wouldn’t.”
Noah laughed. “Who says you’re even my type?”
Jace was exactly Noah’s type, but he didn’t have to know that. They didn’t talk about dating—at first, because Noah wasn’t sure how comfortable Jace would be hearing about his boy troubles, and then because he’d solved his boy troubles by dumping the boy. So Jace had no idea that if someone described his last boyfriend in broad detail, they would have basically been describing Jace.
Noah intended to keep it that way, since he would never have lived it down.
“I’m everyone’s type,” Jace said, standing up. “Race you back to the track.”
