He silences me with a finger on my lips. “It’s okay, Stones.”
“No, it’s not,” I growl. “I want you. My dick is just?—”
“You get like this when you get in your head, you know,” he says, his fingers trailing along my forehead and pushing back strands of unruly hair.
“Like what? I’m not in my head.” I sound like a petulant child, and he just gives me a placating smile.
“Look, man, I know I’m a fuck-boy, but I have scruples, and I can’t fuck around with someone who isn’t one hundred percent into it.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he stifles my argument with a bruising kiss. Before, my body would instantly respond to his searing dominance, but I kiss him back not because I have no other choice, but because I think I’m saying goodbye. To this piece of my friendship with Jagger, at least.
My heart is heavy when my lips leave his. Every way I turn, my relationships are changing, and I feel adrift on a cold and lonely sea. Is this what being an adult is really like?
“We will talk more about this later,” I say, falling back into crown prince mode so I don’t get dragged under the spell of his dominance. “But if we don’t leave soon, we’re not going to have time for all the things still left to do at Navy Yard before we have to meet the rest of the team at the hotel.”
“Lead on, Your Highness,” he says with a saucywink after picking up his discarded crutches from the floor.
We head out to Navy Yard, where the match is to be held in two days’ time. The rest of Jagger’s team, all of whom are veterans of the military, will be arriving later tonight, as well as England’s national amputee football team. Emarvia doesn’t have a European federation team, but maybe this match will drum up enough attention that Jagger’s dream could become reality.
I’ve got a little pull with the Portyard owner and management team and convinced them to allow us the use of the stadium and staff for this event, as well as donating some of the proceeds from concessions. I don’t remember the first time I set foot in this stadium because, as Mother tells it, Father brought me to a Portyard match for my first outing after coming home from hospital. But I do have an entire cache of memories of this place.
And now, walking around like the director of operations, making last-minute tweaks and chatting with the men and women responsible for getting this event off without a hitch, I don’t think anything will ever top the experience of being on this side of the pitch.
I’m fielding frantic texts from Trixie, who is in charge of the after party, and trying to keep in contact with my remaining prospective wives, like I would in any normal dating scenario, and it should feeloverwhelming, but it’s not. It feels good to be in charge of something truly meaningful, to know that I took this whole thing from a wild idea Jagger and I had on a drunken late-night phone call to a full-blown event. And not just any event, but one to honor and support men and women who had given so much for our country. Even if we didn’t serve side by side, these are my brothers and sisters.
All day long, I keep thinking of how Aurelia would have loved this. That woman can keep people on task and organize groups with the best of them. I saw that firsthand on tour with her a few months ago. She shares my love for football and was always so excited when I talked about this event. As much as I try to force thoughts of her away as I work my ass off, she’s stuck in my mind like always.She should be here.
The reception when Jagger’s team arrives at the hotel that night is incredible. People are lined up outside to snap selfies and shake hands as the players show up. Hotel staff are on hand for each player and their families to assist with anything they need. The hotel’s restaurant is booked for our use only, and we laugh and eat, share stories and toasts, drink and reminisce the night away.
I swell with pride, but also feel immensely humble the next day as I watch team training. The outfielders are so fast on their crutches, chasing down balls and delivering beautiful crosses and controlling the ball with such finesse. The smaller goal does nothing to lessen the impressive work the keepers do with onlyone hand. I’m in awe of the resiliency and drive these people have. And the strong bond of friendship they seem to share. It makes me miss my days in the Royal Air Corps and my brothers and sisters in arms who never missed a chance to playfully rib one another, pull a mostly harmless prank, or rally around one another when one of our folks was in need.
“You’re romanticizing again.” Jagger groans as he falls into an overstuffed chair by the window.
We’re back in his hotel room after the match and all the surrounding events. Exhausted doesn’t even begin to explain how I’m feeling right now, but I couldn’t pass up one last opportunity to have a drink with my old flight partner. He leaves for Peru tomorrow to hike the Inca Trail.
“I’m not romanticizing,” I protest, plopping down on the floor between his legs with my back resting against the scratchy upholstery of the mass-produced hotel furniture. His hand runs through my hair in that lazy way he used to when we had the rare time to lie around together after we enjoyed a few orgasms a piece. “I’m just saying, I kind of miss that sense of freedom when the only worry is staying alive and making sure everyone else stays that way too.”
He scoffs. “Stones, you have serious issues if you think that’s freedom.”
I twirl the gold ring engraved with a curlyRon myleft pinky. “It’s the most basic instinct, right? Stay alive. But being back home, there’s so much else to worry about. The political bullshit, keeping my nose clean in front of the paparazzi, this whole marriage dumbfuckery.”
He barks out a laugh that always made the rec room echo with warmth. “Dumbfuckery sounds like the right adjective for that. Marriage in general.”
“Ah, yes. If only we all could just travel the world without a care.”
He hands a glass of whiskey over my shoulder. “You could too if you wanted.”
I sip the over-priced scotch from the hotel bar. “Jag, you know I can’t.”
“Your Trixie says otherwise.”
I sigh. “What did she say?”
Jagger toys with a strand of my hair, sliding it back and forth between his fingers. “That you had tossed the big ‘A’ word around a couple times.”
I shrug, leaning my head back against his thigh in a way that’s comforting in its familiarity, but my body still doesn’t react to his proximity. “I think any royal would admit to thinking of abdication at some point in their lives. If they’re being completely honest, that is.”
“True. But she also says it wasn’t because you were concerned about the position you’ll inherit.”
