by Riley Hart
When they got to the right corner where there was an opening and one of the security guards stood, he said, “My name is Christian Foster. Beckett Monroe told me to come over here to watch the race.”
The man uncrossed his arms, looked at a clipboard in his hand and said, “Two?”
“That’s me,” Quinn piped up from beside him. The guard nodded, and unlatched the hook so they could pass. “Are your in-laws here?” Quinn whispered.
“They’re not my in-laws, you bastard, but yes, they’re here.”
The announcer went on in the background as they made their way toward Nansi and Earl. There were oversized screens not only here but all throughout the track so they could see the whole course.
Just as he made it to them, Earl turned his way. Christian paused, but then the older man smiled. “Christian, you made it just in time. It’s good to see you.”
His overfilled lungs finally deflated.
“You didn’t expect us?” Nansi said before pulling him into a hug. He should have. It made sense they would be here.
“No, I didn’t…but it’s good to see you.”
She squeezed his hand. “It’s good to see you too, Christian. I was so glad to hear you and Beckett reconnected.”
Earl cleared his throat before saying, “We were both glad.”
That was their blessing. It filled his chest to capacity. They knew he wanted to be with Beck, and they were okay with it. “Thank you.”
He introduced them to Quinn before they settled in beside them.
People screamed and cheered. Drank beer and talked riders and the season, Beck’s name popping up more than once.
It was surreal being on this side of it, being here as Beck’s guest, when for years he’d watched from the outside.
Christian wanted nothing more than to see him race tonight. Wanted nothing more than to see Beck be the first man to cross the finish line, and win the motocross championship, because he knew that would happen. They’d dreamed about this when they were kids. Sure, this was nothing new for Beckett, but for Christian it was because now he felt a part of it. Now, it was the way they had always said it would be.
“Hey,” Quinn nudged his elbow. “You good?” he asked softly.
“Yeah,” Christian told him. “Yeah, I am.” He felt incredible.
*
“He got the holeshot. He got the fucking holeshot!” Christian threw a fist in the air and cheered. Quinn watched intensely beside him.
“That means he has the strongest start, right?” Quinn asked and Christian only nodded, unable to take his eyes away from Beck. He was out front, but Meyers was right behind him. He was second in points for the season and too close for comfort. Outdoors were Meyers’s thing. He’d won the past few years because he excelled at it more than he did Supercross, but this year, this year was Beck’s and Christian knew it.
His chest felt like it would burst open each time his heart pounded against it. He could hardly stay still as he watched Beck’s bike bounce over the whoops. “I fucking hate those. It’s hard as hell to hold onto the bike. Watch Beck though. He’s fucking great at them,” he told Quinn as Beckett sped over them like they were nothing, all fluid movement like he was one with the bike. He gained a few tenths of a second on Meyers.
His bike leaned as he cut a corner, making Christian hold his breath. He took a straight away before owning a double for his first trip around the track.
Meyers tried to get around him, tried to cut him off, but Beck held him off. “He wants Beck’s line,” he said to Quinn without looking his way. “Come on, come on, come on,” he whispered as though Beck could hear him. “Keep your line, Monroe.”
And Beck did. Over thirty minutes later, Beckett Monroe flew over the finish line, his bike and arms in the air as he took the first race of the day and everyone around them jumped and cheered.
Finally, Christian could breathe.
*
Beckett sat in the tent, elbows on his thighs, looking down at the ground.
People moved all around him. His trainer went on and on about trying to get the inside line. He and Meyers were neck and neck. Beckett was ahead but just hardly. He had to finish better than Meyers to win.
“Beck. You hearing me?” Dom thumped him on the head.
“Yeah. Fuck. I’m concentrating.”
“I know you are, but I need you to listen to me. The track is rutty as hell. It’s gotten torn up since your lost moto. The whoops are a mess. How are your hands doing?”
“Fine,” he shook off the question. He was lucky. He didn’t have a problem with his hands like a lot of riders got.
“Good. All right, you gotta get your ass out there. Your head in it?” he asked.
“Fuck yeah.” It was. The title was fucking his. He would make sure of it.
Beckett pushed to his feet and made his way to his bike and threw his leg over it to sit down. It was already running. They would have just started it for him so it could warm up.
He pulled his helmet on, then his goggles. Dom handed him his gloves and he pulled those on too, before making his way to the starting gate.
He felt like there was an earthquake going off inside of him—a constant shake that wouldn’t go away. Having won the last race meant he’d gotten to pick his starting spot first, so he sat in his sweet spot, the bike vibrating beneath him as he waited for the gate to drop.
His eyes found their way to where Christian would be watching with his parents. He’d wished he’d been able to see him before the race. It likely would have calmed his nerves. He probably should have told Christian what he was doing but he’d wanted to keep it to himself. Hopefully, he enjoyed the surprise.
He made his eyes look to the front again. There was so much energy inside him he felt like he could burst open at the seams. This felt different than any other championship race he’d ever ridden in. Like the stakes were higher, like this was just the beginning to the next chapter of his life and he knew that had to do with Christian.
The gate dropped and Beckett twisted the throttle. Holeshot. Just have to get the holeshot.
He always saw a race in sections and not a whole. He had one race to win, then he’d move to the next.
His pulse jumped when he hit the corner first and started to pull out in front of the pack. The crowd cheered, then ooohed and he knew there was a crash behind him. After a while he’d learned to read the crowd. Some guys tuned them out, but for Beckett they were not only fuel, but extra eyes on the track.
His brains rattled when he went over the section of whoops. His bike jerked, shook as he sped over the rutty track. It wouldn’t deter him though. He wouldn’t let it.
As he stuck his leg out and leaned the bike to make a turn, he tossed a quick glance over his shoulder. Meyers was right on his ass and he wasn’t surprised.
Just keep going. One lap down, now time for the next.
Beckett’s tire hit a deep rut. He almost lost control of the bike but managed to keep it steady. It was just the mistake Meyers needed to pull in front of him.
Motherfucker.
Come on, come on, come on. Just get around him. Get around him and I’m good. That was the only race he was in right now, getting around Meyers. Once he accomplished that, he’d be going for the title again.
Meyers pulled farther ahead. As he made a turn, he glanced at the board held up for him. One second. I got this. He’s only one second ahead.
Beckett twisted the throttle more. Leaned with the bike, stood as he went over a jump. Found the line he wanted as he passed a lapper, who rightfully moved out of his way.
He didn’t ride the same line through the whoops this time.
He was closer to Meyers than he had been before. Mud shot onto his goggles and Beckett ripped one of the peel-aways off to clear his vision again.
He watched Meyers at the track. Studied them both. He stayed behind Meyers for three laps before the other rider changed his line. It was the mistake Beckett needed to shoot around him on
a corner and then pull ahead.
Don’t fuck up, don’t fuck up, don’t fuck up.
All it would take was one slip-up for Meyers to be in front of him again.
The longer the race went, the lighter Beckett’s body felt until it was almost like he was part of the bike. They moved together, worked together as he saw a sign that told him he was now a little over a second ahead of Meyers.
The other rider didn’t let up. He gave Beckett competition until the end. He could have lost it at any second. His brain told him that over and over again until he took that last jump, flew through the air and over the finish line.
Yes! He’d done it. He’d fucking done it.
He couldn’t wait to share it with Chris.
The second his bike pulled to a stop, his trainer nearly tackled him. His owner cheered. People grabbed at him, hugged him, screamed for him until he felt dizzy.
Where was Christian? He just wanted to share this moment with Christian.
He was suddenly off his bike, but he didn’t know how or when it had happened. His helmet was off too. The crew tossed an energy drink at him—one he was supposed to hold when he went to the podium.
People were pulling on him, leading him to the podium while his eyes frantically darted around.
The second he was pulled onto the stage there was a woman and a microphone in his face. His owner was right beside the stage, his trainer too, the whole fucking crew. His mom was there. She was crying and so was his dad. Still, he kept scanning the crowd. Where was Christian? He had to have come. He wouldn’t have left Beck like this.
“How does it feel to be the AMA champion?” the woman holding the microphone asked him.
Beckett opened his mouth, not sure what he would say until the words came out. “Good, I think. Right now…right now I just really want to know where my boyfriend is.”
The reporter chuckled, with a friendly smile on her face. It was the first time he’d acknowledged his relationship status—the first time he’d confirmed that he was indeed attracted to men on camera. “Well, I’m sure he’s going to be happy to hear that the first words out of your mouth after winning the championship were about him!”
It was all about him. This moment was more real because of him. His whole fucking life was.
That’s when Beckett saw him. Chris stepped up beside Beckett’s parents, the sun glinting off his too-blue eyes. He smiled at Beckett and it damn near stole his breath. Jesus, he loved this man. Wanted to spend every moment of the rest of his life loving him. A grin split Beckett’s face.
Christian nodded as if to tell him to continue.
“I just…I want to thank my team—Rush Racing. My trainer, Dom. Everyone who’s stuck by me. My mom and dad, friends, the fans I…” He made eye contact with Christian again, Chris’s eyes firmly on him, just as Beckett was handed the flag. He couldn’t believe he was standing here with Christian in front of him. “And Chris…thank you for giving me a second chance. Thank you for loving me. For giving me the jumpstart I needed, without even realizing you were doing it.” He’d won titles before and while they all meant something to him, none of them meant what this one did. Motocross was his dream, his career, his passion, one of his loves, but he hadn’t been fully living, not before he was honest about who he was, not before he had Christian back.
“Thank you,” Beckett told the reporter. “Thank you all,” and then he stepped down from the stage and went straight for Chris. He wrapped his arms around Christian’s waist, pulled him into his arms, as Christian’s went just as tightly around him.
“We did it. We fucking did it, Chris,” he whispered into the other man’s ear.
“I’m pretty sure you did it,” he replied, but Beckett knew Christian got what he really meant.
“I thought these twelve weeks would kill me.” He kissed Christian’s forehead. Rubbed his face into Christian’s neck. “I’m so fucking in love with you. I don’t want to be without you anymore. I don’t care where we live or how we make it work, just promise me we’re going to make it work, Christian.”
“Yeah, you know we will. We’ll make it work. I love you too, Beck. You know I’ve always loved you.”
He let out a sigh of relief, just having needed to hear the words.
The space around them got tighter and tighter. More people filled around—laughing, talking, congratulating until they had no choice but to pull apart. When they did, Beckett saw his parents standing there…and it was his dad who hugged him first.
“I’m so damn proud of you, Beckett.”
There was no question in his mind that his dad wasn’t talking about the championship, but Christian.
“Thank you, Dad.”
His mom pulled him into a hug next. “I love you,” she said through her tears. He consoled her, told her he loved her too.
From there it was interviews and more congratulations. He got to meet the infamous Quinn, who made them all laugh, and also happened to be wearing a Monroe jersey.
Beckett soaked every moment of it in, lived it, breathed it, the way life was supposed to be, the moment made even sweeter because he had the man he loved by his side.
EPILOGUE
Beckett set the last tray of dip on the table before the doorbell rang.
“I got it,” Chris called from the other room. It was a cool November day in Virginia and they were expecting their friends to come over to see their place. They’d decided to get a small house in Virginia. It wasn’t where they would live most of the year. It just wasn’t feasible. Christian loved California and worked there. It made the most sense to spend the majority of their time in California since Beck could train there as well. Still, they’d wanted somewhere else that could be theirs. A place to go in the off season, for vacation, or just for much needed rest and relaxation and this seemed like the best spot.
He only had a year left on his contract and who knew what would happen after that? Maybe he would sign another one. Maybe he’d stop racing and take up training, which honestly was the most likely answer. He could help another kid who loved racing as much as he did. The only thing he did know was whatever he did, he would do it with Chris by his side. Nothing would ever come between them again.
Beckett looked over as Chris opened the door. On the small porch stood Landon, Rod, Drew, Justin, Nick and Bryce. Their friends.
“Hey, thanks for having us,” Landon told Chris as he walked inside, followed by a trail of men behind him. He was pretty sure they might be in the gayest town in Virginia and he fucking loved it.
“I brought some food.” Nick held up a pan, the light reflecting off the gold engagement band on his finger. Bryce had proposed to him a few weeks before. Landon had said it was pretty incredible. Beckett and Christian hadn’t been back yet so they’d missed it.
“Thanks.” Beckett walked over and took the dish from Nick. He wanted his ring on Christian’s hand as well, and it would be one day. There was no doubt about that. Right now they were just living, though. Enjoying life and loving each other. The rest would come.
“Am I going to see you tomorrow?” Drew asked Beckett.
“Absolutely.” He was going to teach Drew some of the workouts he used while training. The man was always looking for something new to do.
“Are you coming with him?” he asked Chris, who shook his head.
“No. I have a conference call with Quinn and I need to get some work done.” He was only working part time with Quinn at the moment but he was also able to do some other contracted work. The spare room was set up as an office so Chris could still work when he was away from LA.
Their lives would be hectic for a while, filled with a whole hell of a lot of traveling, but they’d make it work.
They had a great evening with their friends. Beckett couldn’t remember ever laughing as much as he did with this crew together. How could you not with Bryce and Rod in one place? They talked about Rod’s store which was thriving and Justin’s plans after graduation. Nick’s hopeful remodel
of the restaurant, and an upcoming weekend spent with his nieces and nephews.
He realized the people in this room were all a family, and they’d invited him and Christian into it.
He was happier than he’d ever been. Despite how hectic their lives were, he was more stable than he’d ever been too.
This was the life he’d always wanted. He had his dream, yes, but he had more than that. He had a world outside of motocross, which was what he’d been lacking before he made the call that had brought Chris into his life again.
They had a good visit with their friends for a few hours, before everyone started packing up to head home.
He and Chris cleaned up and then headed to bed for the evening. The next day, he spent a few hours at the gym with Drew, before he stopped off at the store because Christian called him asking for eggnog. He hated the shit but he remembered back from when he and Chris were kids, he’d always drank it around this time of the year.
As he browsed the aisles for his spoiled boyfriend’s treat, he heard, “If it isn’t Beckett Monroe,” come from behind him. At first he froze up. It wasn’t often that he was recognized, but then the voice struck a chord with him from a day on a plane when his life had been so fucking up in the air.
“Margaret.” He turned to look at the older woman. He’d wondered about her more than once over the months. Had wished he’d gotten her phone number rather than just giving her his.
He’d wanted to check on her, wanted to make sure she was okay…but he’d also wanted her to know—“You fixed your broken heart,” she told him without Beckett having to say it.
“I did.”
“I saw it on the TV.” She smiled at him. “But even if I hadn’t, all it would have taken was one look at you to know it. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” he told her, pulling her in for a hug. She returned it, her shaky arms going around him. “Do you live around here?” he asked her. “I wondered about you.”