A warm, strong hand settled on his nape. “Gabriel?” Jared’s voice was serious now. Concerned.
Gabriel forced himself not to lean into the touch too much. “They are right, you know: I’m really an asshole.”
Jared went still.
Outside, the blizzard whipped snow against the window.
“All right, what’s wrong?” Jared said slowly.
Gabriel shook his head. “Never mind. Just…promise me something?”
“What?” Jared’s fingers started running through his hair.
Don’t leave me.
He didn’t say it. He couldn’t say it without arousing Jared’s suspicions. He couldn’t say it without sounding like a needy child.
“Do you regret moving to England?” Gabriel asked instead. They had never really talked about it. Yes, it was people at Gabriel’s football club who, impressed by Gabriel’s unlikely recovery, had offered Jared a job. But he knew he was the main reason Jared had moved to England after completing his residency. It was two years ago. Two years of living in each other’s pockets and Gabriel had never asked. He’d been afraid to ask.
And now, Jared’s silence scared him. Did he regret it? He’d moved to another country for him and had barely seen his family the last couple of years.
“No,” Jared said at last, his voice a bit clipped. “I don’t regret it.”
“And you never will?”
“Talking about never and always is naive,” Jared said quietly. “You’re not naive.”
Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek, feeling a physical ache in his gut. He became acutely aware of the sound of the clock’s ticking. Time, slipping away.
He didn’t know what to do.
So he did what he always did when he felt lost, or angry, or upset: he closed his eyes, burrowed closer into Jared’s side and pretended the problems didn’t exist.
He was good at that—as long as he had Jared.
As long as he had Jared.
The clock ticked away.
Chapter 1: Undone
Six months later
At times like this, Jared Sheldon hated his job. Being the Head of Sports Medicine at a top Premier League club might be prestigious, but as he stared at the screen of his computer, struggling to remember the injury of some teenage footballer who no longer played for the club, he hated his job. If he had known how much of his time would be spent behind a desk as he filled out paperwork, Jared would have thought twice when Chelsea’s board had offered him the promotion a year ago.
The phone rang.
His eyes still on the computer screen, Jared answered. “Rebecca, I asked you not to interrupt me—”
“I know,” his secretary said and lowered her voice. “But your boy is here.”
Jared glanced at the door. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
He didn’t need to see Rebecca to know she was rolling her eyes. “Five-nine, dirty blond hair, lovely green eyes, and a terrible temper. Gabe. Gabriel DuVal. Ring any bells?”
“You’ve gotten cheeky, Becca.”
“Me? Never. Can I let him in, please? He’s giving me a headache. He doesn’t seem to understand he can’t enter your office whenever he wants.”
Jared couldn’t help a smile. That sounded like Gabriel. “Didn’t you tell him I’m busy?”
“I did. And you know what he said? ‘But it’s me.’ As if the rules don’t apply to him.” She couldn’t quite keep the dislike from her voice.
Jared’s smile disappeared. “That’s enough, Rebecca. Let him in.” Jared hung up, his mood souring. He knew Rebecca meant well. She was just a little overprotective of him and she had never liked Gabriel. To be fair, Gabe wasn’t sunshine and rainbows: he could be a bit of a jerk around people he didn’t care about—which was most people—but he was fiercely loyal to those few he did care for.
The door opened and Gabriel strode into the room, clad in his blue training kit. He flopped into the big chair on the other side of Jared’s desk.
“Aren’t you supposed to be training?” Jared asked. Gabriel might be one of the stars of the team, but even he couldn’t leave the training session without a good reason.
“Yeah.”
“Are you injured?”
Gabriel caught his bottom lip between his teeth. “My lower back still hurts a little after the knock I received last week. I need a massage.”
Jared studied him for a moment. He knew Gabriel’s body better than his own and the tell-tale signs of pain were absent, which meant Gabriel just wanted a massage. And he usually wanted a massage when he wanted comfort but would never admit it.
“Ron is the physio on duty right now,” Jared said mildly. “Ask him.”
Gabriel scowled.
Jared let out a laugh. “You do realize I’m not your physio anymore, right?”
Gabriel cracked a smile. “What, too important for it?”
“Precisely.” Jared stood up and headed to the adjoined examination room. “All right, come on. Lose the shirt and get on the table.”
By the time he pulled out a bottle of massage oil, Gabriel was already on the table.
Jared worked the oil around his palms and spread it over Gabriel’s back, gliding over the curves of his shoulder-blades with a practiced efficiency.