Page 53 of Worth the Wait
Maybe it did.
He hadn’t been the best player as a kid. Mostly sidelined while Nathan got a full game, so maybe this was him proving how much had changed.
Despite nothing having changed at all.
They collided early. Not dramatic. A glancing touch of shoulders, but Freddie felt it like a slap of nostalgia to thechest. Nathan’s body brushed his. Warm. Solid. Familiar. And for a second, he was sixteen again. Nathan grunted something low, unintelligible, but his gaze flicked sideways and stuck long enough for Freddie to catch the edge of a smirk.
“Watch it, soldier,” Freddie breathed as he jogged past, throwing him a crooked grin.
Nathan didn’t answer. But he did bump his hip into Freddie’s a little harder on the next pass. Low enough no one else would catch it. Hard enough that Freddiedefinitelydid. A silentyeah, still here.
They jostled again at the halfway line, shoulders colliding, and Freddie shot him a sideways grin. “Christ, you always stomp around like this now? Army knocked the soft outta you?”
Nathan gave a breathless huff of a laugh. “You’re slower than I remember. Must be all those surveillances with doughnuts.”
“Cheeky fucker.” Freddie elbowed him lightly in the ribs as he sprinted past, heart thudding harder than it should’ve been for a friendly five-a-side.
He weaved through players, laughing under his breath, feeling Nathan’s presence like a shadow at his back as he darted to intercept a loose ball, but before he could get clear, a heavy arm hooked around his middle.
Nathan tackled him enough to drag him backwards off the ball and into his chest. Freddie stumbled, caught in the grip of muscle and heat and way too much history. He twisted instinctively, and somehow ended up facing him, bodies mashed together, hands gripping each other’s kits as if neither of them knew who was holding who up anymore.
For half a second, no one moved.
The world around them blurred. Shouts, whistles, the thud of boots on fake turf, perhaps even a wolf whistle and banter about flirting. But all Freddie could feel was Nathan’s breath ghosting over his jaw. Hand fisted in the front of his shirt. The steady pound of his heart going completely fucking rogue.
“Gotta be quicker than that, Webb.” Nathan’s voice was low, rough in his ear and it sent Freddie into a spiral of mush.
But he smirked, even as his lungs forgot how to work. “That the line you used in the army? Bet it worked a treat, soldier boy.”
Nathan’s mouth quirked. Half a smirk, half something a lot darker. And he loosened his grip, letting Freddie push away before the moment could snap into something neither of them could undo.
Freddie jogged off, laughing as if it was nothing. As if he wasn’t seconds from turning back around and grabbing him by the shirtfront all over again and asking him to growl in his ear, rough and untamed. Insult him again like it was their foreplay.
But the game pulsed around them again. Sprints, rushed passes, shouted jeers and laughter from the sidelines. And Reece, playing striker for the Fire Service, got the first goal under his belt, swaggering across the pitch as if he was Erling Haaland. He was quick with the ball too, but quicker with the gropes. Too handsy in the tackles, especially with Freddie.
And Nathan noticed. Oh, he noticed.
Every time Reece got too close, Nathan hovered. Shielded.Intervened.
Freddie wasn’t sure what to make of it.
But he kept going, and a chance to even the score presented itself and he cut across the halfway line,dribbling with precision, weaving through defenders. He was heading for the goal, clean on it, only Reece trailing close.Tooclose. Behind, Nathan limped. Pace faltering.
Freddie powered forward.
Then Reece slid in. Not clean. Not legal, either. And he clipped Freddie’s heel before the shot, sending him sprawling across the turf.
“Jesus—” Freddie grunted as he hit the ground, palms stinging, breath knocked clean out of him.
Reece didn’t apologise.
Didn’t even pretend to be sorry.
He yanked Freddie up by the arm. “Didn’t used to mind a bit of rough and tumble.” Then with a smug grin, he reached around and squeezed Freddie’s arse. Firm. Possessive.
There was no time to react, no moment to pull away or slap Reece’s hand back or spit out the string of words burning up his throat.
Because Nathan was already moving.
