by Riley Hart
Landon squeezed him back. “I heard what happened. You okay?”
Beckett pulled away and nodded. “Yeah…yeah I am. We’ll talk about it over lunch.” Sure, things were awkward. He had a lot on his mind. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. But he was okay.
“Let’s get out of here then,” Landon told him. “My buddy Bryce—he owns the shop—isn’t in today. He’s going to lose his mind that he missed you. He nearly had an orgasm when I told him I know you.” Landon laughed as they climbed into the car.
Even after all these years it was a strange feeling to have someone excited to meet him. To have someone want his autograph. “It’s so odd.”
“I know. I told him you’re probably the biggest dork I know, but he just mumbled Monster Energy Cup and Supercross champion.”
Beckett playfully rolled his eyes. He was damn proud of everything he’d accomplished. He’d never expected it. He’d grown up dirt poor. His parents had sacrificed a lot for his career—taking him to races, extra hours at work to buy him bikes. He’d gone pro as a teenager and it hadn’t been easy. To think about how far he’d come…it blew him away sometimes but then, why did he feel such emptiness inside? Why did it keep growing inside him like some kind of fucking cancer or something?
He didn’t understand it.
“Eh, I’m nothing special, but I’d love to hang out with him sometime. I want to meet your friends and that man of yours. Holy fuck. I never thought I’d see the day you’d settle down.”
“I never thought I’d see the day either. He snuck up on me, that’s for sure. Rod’s fucking crazy and I love it. He makes me laugh like no one I’ve ever known.” Landon was still smiling to himself as he gave directions to the diner down the road.
Beckett could hear the love in Landon’s voice and he felt a small twinge of jealousy in his chest. Huh. That was odd. “I’m happy for you.”
He drove them to the diner. It was an old fashioned, yellow building that looked like it came from the fifties. He was comfortable in places like this because he’d grown up in a small town in Georgia that was full of them.
It was pretty slow inside. They were seated, had their sweet teas and ordered before Landon said, “You were tired of hiding, weren’t you?”
He leaned back in the matching yellow booth and gave a simple nod. It was more than that, though. Since he was bi, there was a part of him that had always told himself when he was ready to settle down, he’d eventually be able to do so with a woman he loved. But then the older he got, the less women he dated or slept with until he knew it would never happen. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, he didn’t think, or at least he just didn’t want to admit it. Still, he’d never really seen himself coming out. The whole thing was just so fucking odd to him, having to declare to people who he found attractive and what he wanted.
“I’m not sure what’s going on with me.”
“You were tired of living a lie,” Landon told him.
“True,” but…“it’s not only that. I just feel…off. I’ve never loved anything the way I love moto. You know that, Landon—and I still do. Jesus, there’s nothing like being out there in the dirt but on the other hand, it’s—fuck, I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his dark hair as he struggled to put into words something that he didn’t understand. “I guess it feels lonely lately and I don’t know why.” Which he was aware sounded all sorts of fucked up. Motocross was a one-man sport but it had never made him feel alone before. That’s why he hadn’t ridden as well this Supercross season. It had to be. He’d won the championship last year. This year, he was third in points. It had just suddenly stopped feeling the same.
Landon opened his mouth to respond, just as the waitress brought their food over. They’d each gotten a burger and fries. She asked if they needed anything else and when they said no, she left them alone again.
“That’s because there comes a time when it’s not enough. Whether it’s bikes, art, fucking cross-country skiing, I don’t know. Whatever it is that you love, eventually you need more. That doesn’t mean you don’t love it. It just means you’re ready to let yourself love more than just that thing. Congratulations Beckett Monroe, you’re all grown up now.”
Landon winked at him and Beckett couldn’t help but let out a laugh.
Whatever it is that you love, eventually you need more. That doesn’t mean you don’t love it. It just means you’re ready to let yourself love more than just that thing.
He had a feeling his friend was right.
*
“Your cell is ringing,” Quinn called from the living room. Christian stood at the bathroom sink, towel wrapped around his waist, shaving. Quinn didn’t live with him, but he might as well with all the time he spent at Christian’s place.
“Grab it for me and tell whoever it is I’ll call back.” He ran the blade down his jaw again before rinsing it and then tossing water on his face and wiping the shaving cream away.
It was less than half a minute later when Quinn rushed into the bathroom holding his phone out to him as though he’d just received a call that he won the lottery or something.
“Who is it?” Christian asked and turned off the water.
Quinn looked at him with soft brown eyes and somehow he knew, fucking knew that it was Beckett. That the man was calling him for the first time in ten years. He felt ridiculous when his pulse sped up. But then…this wasn’t about him. If Beckett was calling, it was because something was wrong. Quinn had no doubt been right that Beck was struggling.
“Fuck,” he cursed softly before taking the phone from his friend. Quinn winked at him before he walked out of the room, giving Christian privacy. “Hello?” he said into the phone as he made his way to his bed and sat down.
There was a pause. He heard Beck breathe and then…“Hey. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Jesus, this is fucking awkward and a really bad idea. I don’t know what in the hell I’m doing.”
“I heard,” Christian said before he could hang up.
“Small town gossip back home? I’m sure the news made it through the grapevine and back to your family. They’re definitely putting second thoughts into all those sleepovers we used to have when we were kids.”
And there was Christian’s stupid letter. He didn’t bring that up, though.
“Nah, they’ve become surprisingly progressive since getting used to having a gay son. They don’t pay attention to childish gossip. I have a subscription to Motocross Today,” he admitted.
It surprised him that after all these years, he could notice the amusement in Beck’s voice when he said, “Do you, now? That’s interesting.”
“I’ve always enjoyed the sport. If you remember, I used to ride with you quite often.” There was an elephant on the line with them they were both obviously trying to ignore. They were doing a decent job until Beck spoke again.
“I remember, Chris. I remember everything.”
Yeah…yeah, Christian remembered too.
“I don’t know why I called,” he confessed. “I thought maybe my mom had given me the wrong number when your boyfriend or whoever that was answered. She had to call your parents for the number. I suddenly feel like I’m in a romantic comedy. Or, you know, twelve or something.”
Christian didn’t correct the boyfriend comment. He gave a soft chuckle at what Beck had said and replied, “His name is Quinn. I was shaving and my phone was in the living room with him. It’s fine that you called, though. How you doing, Beck?”
“I’m good.”
Christian blew out a breath.
“No, I really am. It was time…past time, honestly. I have two weeks before the outdoor season starts. I’m in Virginia, of all places.” He gave Christian the name of the town and then they both went silent. So he’d taken a break between Supercross and Motocross seasons. That made sense. Christian wasn’t sure what else to say, and it was Beckett who continued the conversation. “Just getting some much needed R&R and thought—hell, I don’t know what I though
t. That maybe I should call my childhood best friend who I haven’t spoken to in ten years, for absolutely no reason. That wouldn’t be awkward at all.”
Christian let out another laugh. Beck had always been good at making him smile.
“Now that I’ve made myself look like an idiot for shits and giggles, I should let you go.”
“It’s okay,” Christian told him. “I’m pretty sure we’ve both looked like idiots around each other too many times to count. Ugh. Remember the first time I got drunk and I fell asleep in my own vomit? We’d snuck into my house and I got sick and my mom came in and saw me in the morning. You told her you’d gotten a stomach ache and thrown up on me. Why did you do that anyway? It would have been just as believable that I’d thrown up on myself.”
“I choked! I just knew she was going to take one look at me, know I’d been drunk and call my parents.”
They’d been ridiculous. That was one of many stories Christian remembered. “You never had a real good poker face, did you?” Beckett was a terrible liar. All it took was one look at him to know when he was being dishonest.
“Not about most things,” he acknowledged. They both knew the one thing he had been really good at lying about. “I should let you go,” he said again.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Beck?” He couldn’t keep himself from asking again; he knew to the marrow of his bones that something wasn’t right.
“I’m good. I’m twenty-eight years old. It shouldn’t have taken me this long.”
But there was more, there was more and Christian knew it but he wouldn’t push. It wasn’t his place. “Call anytime, all right? It was good talking to you.”
Beckett breathed into the line a couple moments before he said, “It was good talking to you too, Chris.” He hung up the phone. Christian tossed his cell to the bed just as Quinn came in.
“It was good talking to you? That’s all you had to say?”
Christian threw a pillow at his head, which Quinn dodged. “Nosy bastard.”
“I like to call it being a good friend.” He flopped down on the bed beside Christian. “That didn’t go anything like it does in the movies.”
“You’re insane. And what movies are you watching? All LGBT movies end without a happily ever after.” Not that he was looking for that with Beck. It had been too many years for that.
“You’re right. That needs to change.”
“Very true.” Christian sighed. “That was odd. I never expected Beck to call. Never in a million years.” He’d sounded…different. Not just because it had been ten years but as though there was too much weight on each of his words. As though he was tired.
“You’re familiar to him. Sometimes we just need something or someone who makes us feel safe.”
He rolled his eyes and pushed to his feet. “I am not what Beckett Monroe needs. As long as he has a four-stroke bike and open space, he’s okay.”
“Can’t talk to a bike.”
“As long as he can ride, he’s good.”
“Then you’re a two-fer! He can ride you and talk to you!”
He wished there was another pillow nearby that he could throw at Quinn. But the truth was, Quinn was right. He thought Beck did need something familiar. If not, he wouldn’t have called.
Christian sighed. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“That’s my boy.” Quinn stood, knowing Christian all too well. “Go get dressed.”
Without another word, Christian headed back to the bathroom to do just that.
CHAPTER THREE
Beckett sat on the back deck of the house he’d rented. It was a small, two-bedroom cabin with a fireplace that was too warm to use, nestled between trees that kept the property shaded.
The humidity wasn’t as bad as it was in Florida. He was used to it, having lived in humid environments most of his life. It was a plus when he raced this direction because not all riders did well in humid conditions.
He had his eyes closed as he relaxed into the porch chair. There was a cooler on the deck with him, a cold beer beside him and nothing but birds chirping and the sound of nature around him.
He needed this. He needed it badly.
When his cell rang on his lap, Beckett tensed. He wasn’t even one beer in yet and didn’t want to deal with anyone. It was likely his mom again…or one of his sponsors…or someone from his team.…Jesus, he should just throw the fucking phone into the woods. But when it rang again he forced himself to open his eyes and pick it up. He frowned when he saw Christian’s name on the screen. He’d saved his number when they spoke earlier that day.
His gut twisted as he remembered the completely ridiculous phone call. He’d felt like a sixteen-year-old calling his crush. Still, he swiped his finger across the screen and said with forced confidence, “Your turn to take a walk down memory lane?”
“Eh, more like my turn to embarrass myself because I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, why, or how you’ll feel about it. I have a layover in Dallas. My plane lands in Norfolk at ten fifteen tonight. Can you pick me up?”
Beckett’s pulse raced, that same feeling he got when his bike accelerated as he fought for the holeshot. He loved getting the strongest start, but the best finish was even more important. He leaned forward in the chair, thinking he must not have heard Christian right. “Excuse me?”
“You know what I said, Beck. Is this a good idea or a shitty one?”
Honestly…? “I don’t know.”
“Yeah…yeah, I feel the same,” Christian replied.
“But I want to see you.” His gut coiled tight at the thought—both nerves and excitement fueling him. It had been a long time since he saw Christian—too long.
Christian went quiet for a moment and Beckett wondered what he was thinking. Wondered why in the fuck he was coming. At the same time, he couldn’t help being glad his old friend was visiting.
“Most people do,” he finally replied, making a smile tug at Beckett’s lips.
“Cocky motherfucker.” He’d been the same way when they were kids, but playfully. He hadn’t always been that way with Beckett though, because Christian had known he could be himself with him the same way Beckett didn’t have to build himself up with bravado around Christian. They teasingly competed but it was all in fun between the two of them.
“I learned from the best.”
“Pfft.” Beckett rolled his eyes. “Don’t blame me. That was all you.”
The tight twist in his stomach began to unwind. It felt good talking to Christian. Even in just the few minutes they were on the line together he found himself wishing he hadn’t lost this—hadn’t lost his friend.
“Will you come?” Christian asked, some of the seriousness back in his hoarse voice.
“Yeah. Of course.” He had to know that, right? Had to know that Beckett would want to see him and that Beckett would go get him…but then, maybe he didn’t know. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t left Christian hanging once before, though he’d spent the last ten years regretting it.
After Christian told him the airline, they got off the phone. It wasn’t until he leaned back in his chair again that he remembered the man who’d answered Christian’s cell earlier. He wondered who they were to each other, if he had a right to have a say in Christian coming here or not, if he’d ever been serious about someone or if he was now. Did he like California? It was a whole hell of a lot different from where they’d grown up.
There were so many things he didn’t know about his old friend and it was his own damn fault.
*
Okay…so this might be a little weird. Jumping on a plane to go see a friend he hadn’t spoken to in ten years, and who he’d had a not-so-pleasant last meeting with, wasn’t something Christian did every day. For the hundredth time since Quinn dropped him off at LAX he wondered what he was doing. Yes, Beck sounded off-kilter during their first phone call and yes the thing that Beck had feared happening when they were kids had recently occurred in his life but the truth was, that had noth
ing to do with Christian. Not anymore. What did he expect? To come here and save the day? To show Beck that he might not be a Supercross champion but that he’d made a good life for himself? That he was happy? As much as he hated to admit it, that likely had something to do with it.
That, and the truth was, he’d likely always come if he thought Beck needed him. That’s what friends did for each other, or at least that’s the way Christian saw it. Despite the time that had passed, he couldn’t turn off the part of him that considered Beck one of the most important people in his life. He wasn’t sure if that made him a saint or someone who really needed to get over the past.
The Norfolk airport was rather small. Christian had to grab his checked bag, but it wasn’t long until he stepped outside the glass doors just as a blue SUV pulled up. Before he saw the driver, he knew it was Beck.
A strange discomfort settled at the base of his spine, making him tense.
The passenger-side window rolled down. His dark hair was only a couple inches long. He had a matching beard that hid the jawline Christian had always enjoyed looking at. He gave Christian a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. Still, there were small wrinkles around them that hadn’t been there before—smile lines from the years of laughs he’d had that Christian hadn’t been a part of.
A melancholy sort of heaviness weighed him down because he’d never seen that happening between them. Yes, it had been ten years and he knew that but seeing Beck again in person made it all the more real.
As if he could sense something was wrong, he cocked his head slightly. Was he thinking the same thing? Did he have any regrets? Christian didn’t really think he could. All of Beck’s dreams had come true.
He fought to shake those thoughts from his head as he walked the short distance from where he stood to the vehicle. He opened the back door, tossed his bags in and then climbed into the front. “You look old,” he teased and Beck barked out a rough laugh.
“Fuck you. I’m tired. It’s been a long week.” He eyed Christian up and down. Christian’s light brown hair was shorter than it used to be. He was clean-shaven, wearing a polo shirt and jeans. Did Beckett think he looked different?