Chapter 5 Jackson
Jackson
“The fucking Olympian!” Beth squealed in Jackson’s ear as she jumped on him at the train station.
His little sister certainly knew how to cause a scene.
Her ginger hair was peeking out from under a blue cap that flew off her head as Jackson spun her around, his duffel dropped unceremoniously on the ground.
“Always knew someday I’d be recognised as the most talented sibling in this family,” he said with a laugh.
“Please, you’ll be eating your words when I get into the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts.”
“Oh, is RADA your top choice now? Last month it was Central,” he teased. “And Mum thinks I’m indecisive.”
Beth was the most like Jackson of all his sisters.
She was a bundle of energy, constantly bouncing from one interest to the next.
But where Jackson had excelled in athletics, Beth was a performer.
She had been going through the gruelling process of drama school auditions, and though Jackson loved to rib her about it, his little sister was a marvel on-stage.
He was going to do whatever it took to make sure she could go to the school of her dreams.
“Honestly, it’s whichever I hear back from. I’m…I’m not sure if I’ll get in,” she replied. "Or if I can afford to go, if I do." The hint of insecurity in her voice was so unlike her, it was heartbreaking.
“You’ll have your pick of the lot, I’m sure.
” He meant it. No matter how much he teased, he knew Beth would succeed, and she’d deserve it too, far more than he deserved the opportunity he’d been handed.
Jackson tried to push the bubbling insecurity from his mind.
He was here to reconnect with his family before leaving for altitude camp, but doubts about his selection raged anyway.
Especially because he couldn’t even speak to his best friend about it—not when Darius was the one who should have made the team, and Jackson had benefited from the ridiculous political manoeuvring instead.
Everyone knew Darius was meant to be the first runner selected.
But Coach Anders’s long-standing grudge against the Hewitts had spiralled into a media frenzy, dragging Darius into headlines that painted him as homophobic.
The selection committee had decided the controversy was reason enough to keep him off the team.
It would have been heartening, in a way, if any of it had been true.
Jackson was all too familiar with the feeling he was sure Darius was going through—seeing lies printed about you and being unable to retaliate.
It hurt. The past year had been an all-out grind since his own disastrous run-in with the press.
He had to be constantly on: friendly, sportsmanlike, perfect.
His blood had been drawn for random screenings more times than he could count.
Optics. The word haunted him.
He needed to stop dwelling; the decision had been made.
Trying to put it from his mind, he jogged over to where Beth’s hat had landed down the platform, grabbed it, and pulled it down over his own hair, which earned an indignant squawk from her.
Then, he picked up his bag and followed her to their dad’s beat-up old car parked outside the station.
It was a short drive to their parents' house on the outskirts of Leicester. Still the same small semi-detached Jackson had grown up in, not far from the local track where he’d first fallen in love with running.
As a queer ginger lad growing up on a council estate, being faster than his tormentors had been his initial inspiration, but running had quickly become far more than that to him.
Jackson climbed out of the car, stretching his long limbs after being cramped in the small space.
He hoisted his bag out of the boot and followed Beth to the door.
The first to greet him was his little nephew, Noah.
Jackson had to drop his bag in the entrance to manage the bundle of toddler demanding ‘uppies.’ His older sister, Anna, watched from the kitchen doorway with a soft smile on her face.
“Noah, let Uncle Jackson come into the house first,” she said.
Noah snuggled into Jackson’s shoulder. “I told my mummy your favourite dino is a Velociraptor, Uncle Jacksy.”
Jackson laughed. “Yes, I love velociraptors, Noah! How did you know?”
He must be in a dinosaur phase right now. Last visit, it had been all about princesses and superheroes.
“They’re fast,” Noah replied. “Like you. Mummy says you’re racing at the Limpit Games.”
Jackson smiled. “That’s right, mate. I’ll try to win you a medal at the Limpits, Ok?” Jackson tickled him, and Noah squirmed in his arms, delighted.
He’d missed this, desperately. Jackson’s training schedule this year had been the most demanding yet, and it had paid off, obviously, but he wasn’t entirely convinced the trade-off was worth it. Maybe he’d feel differently if his performance alone was what had earned him the early Olympic call-up.
Noah squirmed again, wanting to be let down to go play. Jackson watched him run off with a wistful smile. Anna stepped forward and gave him a tight hug.
“No Dave?” he asked tentatively.
Anna shook her head. “No Dave.” She left it at that. Her deadbeat husband's absence was a relief to Jackson, so he didn’t push it. The two of them ducked into the kitchen, where Beth was already pouring steaming mugs of tea and setting them on the counter.
Jackson was pulled into more hugs by his parents.
More rounds of congratulations. His mother fussed over the length of his hair as usual.
He batted her concerns away in a good-natured manner, changing the subject lest she start on about his piercings.
It felt normal, which, after the craziness of the past few months… well, he needed normal.
Jackson grabbed his mug from the counter—the same one he’d used for years with Olympic rings decorating it, a sort of talisman. It seemed to hold more meaning now. He tried not to let it make him feel like a fraud.
“It’s so nice to have you here, dear,” his mum said before returning to fussing over his dad.
He looked tired, but the exasperated huff he let out as his wife refilled his tea for the third time brought a smile to Jackson’s face.
His parents' relationship was the most shining example of love he’d ever come across, better than any film he’d seen.
They’d been together since school, and he’d never seen two people truly support each other more than them.
It was probably why he had such lofty hopes for his own romantic life, which never quite seemed to live up to the expectations he created in his head.
“Let’s go to the sitting room,” his mother said suddenly.
Jackson and Beth exchanged a look. They had rarely used the sitting room growing up, now though, it was filled with Noah’s toys.
The group trailed in behind his mother regardless.
Noah was in there, stacking blocks and knocking them over with a toy T.
rex. Jackson smiled at him and got an answering grin before he returned to his task.
Beth sank onto the sofa next to him, crossing her legs underneath her. “You gonna have to train with that blond prick? The homophobic one that tanked that big sponsorship deal for you?”
Jackson sighed. Elliot Owens was a lot of things, but if the way he’d kept quiet about what he’d seen in Boston was any indicator, homophobic wasn’t one of them. “Four weeks in Switzerland with him before London. Then loads more once he’s officially named for the team.”
“You think he will be?”
Jackson nodded. “No question.”
“Well, maybe Switzerland can be a fresh start for you two,” his mother said with a smile. “Neutral ground.”
Beth snorted, and mentally, Jackson was right there with her, but he knew he’d have to put up a front of getting along with Owens and being the bigger person, a good sportsman.
No matter what he thought of Owens, no matter how much the dickhead had cost him and how hard it had been to rebuild his reputation to distract from the whispers he had started, he’d be expected to bury the hatchet.
Hell, Anders had made that clear to him when he’d first heard the selection news.
“We’re all so proud of you, Jacksy,” his mum said, getting a bit teary-eyed. “My little boy, at the Olympic Games.”
Jackson flushed as Beth rolled her eyes. It was nice, though. He crossed the room to pull his mum into a tight hug.
“Now don’t you go getting a big head about this and forgetting where you’ve come from.”
“Never, Ma.” Jackson laughed, burying his head in her hair.
She held on almost too tight, breathing him in for a minute before she released him and looked around the room, cautious.
“I wanted to wait until you were all here,” she started.
"but with Katie's work… Well, it can't wait, you need to know.
" He saw as his dad squeezed her hand in a show of solidarity, and his stomach sank.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” his mum started. His dad grunted, and they exchanged a look between them that Jackson couldn’t quite read.
“I’m not well,” his dad said. A small sob escaped his mother’s throat. “It’s me lungs.”
There was a suffocating silence in the room. Jackson couldn’t do anything but stare.
Anna broke the silence. “What does that mean?”
Their mother gathered herself, then began to explain. “It's from all the damn asbestos in those buildings.”
Their dad had worked construction since he’d left school at sixteen.
A lot of the older industrial buildings were full of the stuff, and safety regulations back then hadn’t been what they were now.
Dad explained that it was called asbestosis.
The doctors thought he’d be ok with treatment, but there was no cure, and he definitely wouldn’t be able to carry on working.
Jackson’s thoughts were whirring at a hundred miles an hour. What did treatment look like? What were the risks? If his dad couldn’t work, would they be ok? What about Anna and Noah? Or Beth’s drama school?
The connections he was forming were interrupted when Noah toddled back into the room, arms full of stuffed animals, and informed Jackson that it was time to have a ‘cuppa tea.’ Jackson shared a single loaded look with his older sister before he joined his nephew on the floor, trying to be present for Noah’s sake.
He put in his best effort for the tea party, not wanting the toddler to pick up on the pain crushing his heart, but unable to shake the feeling that he needed to do something, to fix this for his family.