Chapter 11
Jackson
The next morning was awkward as fuck. Of course it was, it was Elliot Owens, and he basically lived to make Jackson uncomfortable.
Frost clung to the edges of the gondola platform, and the crisp alpine air bit at Jackson’s exposed wrists.
Every exhale came out in visible clouds, every movement accompanied by the faint crunch of ice under their trainers.
They packed up in silence, and Elliot followed him to the gondola.
They’d have another night up here, but Jackson needed to speak to the front desk about getting another tent.
He couldn’t handle another night next to Owens, not now that he’d felt the weight of him, the warmth of his body in the thin tent, the way each sigh had vibrated through his chest like a shockwave, and tasted the peppermint and Darjeeling lingering on his lips.
Even bundled up against the cold, the memory made the hairs on his arms prickle.
He wanted to ask what had happened. They’d gone from zero to a hundred and crashed back down just as fast. Whatever message Elliot had received, it had spooked him, or reminded him of who it was he’d been kissing, maybe.
“Have you two kissed and made up, then?” Anders’s voice cut through the crisp morning air like a whistle, snapping Jackson out of his thoughts.
He glanced over at Elliot, who looked like he’d swallowed something particularly distasteful, which was, well, a bit offensive.
A pink flush spread across his face and ears as he muttered a stammered apology, kicking at the frost-crusted dirt.
Jackson couldn’t help noticing how the cold only seemed to highlight the tension in those wide, uncertain eyes.
He found he hated that uncertainty, used as he was to seeing those eyes pierce through him with the ferocity of a January storm.
“Now you know I’d never kiss and tell, Coach,” Jackson replied with a wink. It was effective enough at diffusing the weird tension. Anders rolled his eyes as Elliot spluttered.
“Well, as long as you’re ready to work and show an inkling of professionalism.”
“Always,” Owens said, seeming to snap back into that focused persona he always loved to show the world.
But Jackson reckoned he could still see the tension in his eyes.
His gaze drifted to Owens’s ankle. In all the awkwardness of the morning, he hadn’t taped it, but there was no noticeable limp anymore; maybe he’d been worried about nothing.
They settled into their warm-up, and Jackson convinced himself it was his overactive imagination that made it feel like Owens’s eyes were lingering on him, or a spot of wishful thinking.
“Keep it easy today, both of you, then head to the gym for a strength session. We’ll have a heavier day tomorrow.”
Jackson nodded, but he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his blood as Owens jogged up next to him. He sped up a little bit—not enough to be noticeable, but enough to pull ahead.
Owens matched his pace.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked when they were on the opposite side of the track from Anders.
Elliot didn’t reply, he just kicked up the speed of his changeover.
Jackson laughed as he matched him.
Owens’s stride lengthened, crisp breaths steaming in the cold morning.
Jackson felt his competitive streak flare and he lengthened his own steps, chasing him around the frost-tinged track.
Their shoes kicked up tiny sprays of ice and snow, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the two of them, lungs burning, hearts pounding, the distant hum of the gondola and Anders’s vitals monitor fading behind the rhythm of their feet.
As they completed the final lap of their ‘easy 10km,’ they were both running full tilt.
Breath heaving as he came to a stop in front of Anders, Jackson shot Owens an easy grin that was returned for a moment before it turned into a glare.
Anders let out a heavy sigh before turning around and marching back to the hotel without a word to either of them.
The silence hung heavy between them for a moment until, much to Jackson’s surprise, Elliot broke it. “Does that mean the gym session’s cancelled?”
Jackson snorted. “I’d say that’s a safe assumption. I’ll meet you by the gondola after dinner.” He still needed to figure out the tent situation with the front desk.
Two hours later, with a new charge to his credit card that he’d prefer not to think about, Jackson lugged a new tent up to his room and crashed on the bed.
He had a few hours to kill before dinner and meeting Owens for their second, and hopefully final, night of camping.
He thought back to the way Owens had opened up, the press of his lips and the wild way he’d poured himself into that kiss.
It didn’t matter, though. If the aftermath had been anything to go by, that would be the last taste of Elliot Owens Jackson would ever have.
The thought upset him more than it should have.
Jackson
Hey, got a min?
Darius
For you, always, mate
Jackson
Can I ring?
A quick thumbs up had Jackson hitting the call button.
Darius was sweaty, probably coming from a workout himself.
Looking at him now, Jackson could say objectively that his friend was gorgeous, but it didn’t give him that pang of loss he used to feel when he’d realise they could never be more than friends—sporadic, occasional benefits aside.
Now, though, Darius looked so settled, so happy, that it kind of made Jackson believe in happily ever after.
“You tell him how you feel yet?” he asked.
Darius rolled his eyes. “You know I’m not doing that.”
“Chase your bliss, baby”
A scoff. “Did you ring to talk about my love life or is something up?”
"I mean, I wanted to see how you're doing. You know, with your private life being splashed across every tabloid in the country."
"You know I'm fine, Jax. The press is the press, but it's good, not hiding."
That warmed Jackson's heart despite the miserable self-doubt plaguing him. "And having Jamie?" Jackson teased.
"Shut up." Darius laughed. "Now come on, mate. Why did you really ring?"
“Is it me?” Jackson blurted out. Unable to contain the feeling bubbling up inside of him. “Am I…too much? Or not enough?”
Darius squinted at him. “Who said that?”
“Nobody.” Jackson shrugged. “Everybody. I don’t know.”
“Was it Owens?” Darius asked. “I’ll fucking ruin him.”
Jackson sighed. “No, but… I hear it a lot, ok, and I thought… Was that why things with us never…”
Darius ran a hand over his short, coiled hair. “Jackson, you're my best friend, and I love you, but we weren’t… We were never a good fit like that.”
It wasn’t that Jackson disagreed, he just needed to know if he was the problem. “Because of me?”
Darius frowned. “Because of both of us. I thought we were ok, though? Friends, right? Best mates?”
“Of course we are. I…I know I can be a lot, and I’m worried I’ll never find anyone willing to put up with that.”
“The right person for you should do more than just put up with you, Jax,” Darius said. “And wasn’t that why you wanted to stop fooling around? You wanted to find the right person.”
Jackson sighed. “Do you think that was na?ve of me?”
“A few months ago, I’d have said yes. Absolutely.”
“But not now?”
“Not now,” Darius replied, his composure cracking just a fraction.
“So Jamie’s it for you?”
Darius blinked. “I—maybe, yes.”
“But you still won’t tell him?”
“Could we go back to dissecting your issues, please?”
Jackson laughed. He’d needed this, the easy banter that came from years of living in each other’s pockets.
They really were better off as friends. Darius would be there for him no matter what.
Hell, he could probably tell him about the kiss with Owens and he wouldn’t even blink.
He opened his mouth to do just that, then hesitated.
Owens wasn’t out. And he’d kept Darius’s secret for so long, getting nothing in return.
Jackson couldn’t betray his trust like that.
He wasn’t about to become the villain in Owens’s story, and not just because that would guarantee without a doubt that he’d never get to kiss him again.
“Owens gearing up to take my rightful place beside you on the start line, then?”
Jackson cracked a smile, though inside he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to Elliot’s injury, a niggle of concern refusing to be ignored.
“You know it. I figure it’ll be the three of us.
The selection committee will come to their senses about you soon, and Anders’ll give in as long as it gets his lap dog there as well. ”
Darius smiled. “God, I'd bet Owens’s father got him in with Anders early for this exact reason.”
Jackson’s heart stuttered. “Does he have that kind of pull?”
“I think so. I mean, the man was legendary. He was a big deal back in the day until he dropped out suddenly. Left Loughborough, moved to god knows where, taking Owens with him. Then, a while later, he sort of re-emerged, crossed over to the business side. The man knows everyone.”
“Fair enough,” Jackson muttered.
“Why do you ask?”
“Something Owens mentioned. Thought it’d be weird having a parent that involved in your career.”
Darius shuddered. “I don’t even want to imagine.”
“Yeah,” Jackson whispered.
He ribbed Darius a little more about his weird fake relationship before hanging up and falling back on the plush hotel bed, wishing he could sleep in there tonight instead of back out in the woods with Owens, who he couldn’t seem to stop thinking or talking about.