His conclusion: Absolutely nothing.
They wouldn’t have to see each other. Becks wouldn’t have to pretend his heart didn’t break every time they occupied the same space.
“Are you—”
“So help me, Nicky, if you finish that with ‘okay,’ I’m going to tell the entire world you hate ketchup.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s nothing wrong with hating ketchup.”
“Yes, there is. It’s sacrilege and un-American. If you think the paps were bad before, just wait till I tell them you’re the devil incarnate.”
He cracked a small smile, the first Becks had seen on his face in too long.
Becks didn’t match it. Instead, he sat up and scooted so his back leaned against the headboard. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why? Becks, you’re my—”
“Friend?”
“Yeah, friend.” He bit out the word. “Your sister is a mess. I tried to be there for her as much as I could, but she told me it was okay to leave. That she wasn’t the only one who needed me. I think she was right.”
“I don’t need you.” His hard façade cracked, just a little.
“Your mom died, Becks.”
“No, my mom lives with my dad in Twin Rivers. My mother lost the right to be called Mom a long time ago.”
“You don’t mean that.”
He didn’t, but he wasn’t going to admit that.
Nicky stood, and for a tiny moment, Becks thought he’d leave. It both relieved and pained him. Instead, Nicky took a seat farther up the bed, pulling his legs up so his head could rest against the headboard at Beckett’s side.
He dropped his voice. “It’s okay to be sad.” He reached for Beckett’s hand, but Becks ripped it away.
“You don’t get to do that,” he choked out, tears building in his throat. He hadn’t cried in front of Avery or Nari or Skyler. Even on the phone with Wylder, he’d been strong, letting her be the one to break down.
But now, with Nicky, he couldn’t stop the fat drops from rolling down his face.
Nicky didn’t acknowledge the tears. “I want to be here for you. Is that okay?”
All Becks could manage was a nod as Nicky put a hand to his cheek and steered Becks’ head onto his shoulder.
Tears dampened Nicky’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind as he let Becks release his strength for once in his life. Nicky didn’t expect anything from him. He didn’t need him. Becks sighed as he closed his eyes.
When he could finally speak again, his voice rasped out. “I understand, you know.”
“Hmm? Understand what?”
“We started with a lie. And it was all my fault. You did so much for me. I never should have asked you to do any of it. The whole fake relationship. I shouldn’t have cared what the label said. I’m sorry.”
“Becks, I agreed to it. It’s not like you forced me. You don’t make my decisions.”
Becks lifted his head to meet Nicky’s gaze. “I’m still sorry. For everything. For the media attention. For my confusion. I’m not even gay. At least I don’t think so. But sitting here with you… This is the first time in weeks I haven’t felt like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, just waiting to fall off. You ground me Nicky. My life is insane—as you’ve seen. I’m not exactly the most down-to-earth guy. But I can be calm when I’m with you. I don’t feel that anywhere else.”
Nicky swallowed heavily. There was little space separating their faces, and Becks wanted nothing more than to cross the invisible line between them. But he wouldn’t. He’d tried telling Nicky how he felt, that it confused him.
Now, it was Nicky’s turn.
Instead of moving closer, Nicky backed away, climbing off the bed. “I should go. I just wanted to check on you.” He stopped moving. “You know I’m here, right, Becks? If you need me?”
Becks nodded and got to his feet, following Nicky from the room.
They reached the front door, and Nicky pulled it open, revealing a darkness only illuminated by the stars overhead. His beat-up old car sat in the driveway ready to take him away from Becks.
He took one step out the door before he stopped and turned on his heel. He pulled Becks into a crushing hug. “You’re going to get through this.” He stepped away. As he walked outside, he threw a few more words back over his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you when you leave for the tour.”
Becks closed the door, leaning against it. Before, he’d been excited to go on such a big tour, to play music every day. But now, it was more than a job. It was a lifeline. Because if he had to stay in Nashville, he’d never survive Nicky St. Germaine.
A buzz sounded from where his phone sat charging in the kitchen. Then another. Becks walked toward the counter and yanked the cord from his phone before unlocking it.
Text after text had come in the past few hours. Avery and Nari. A few from Quinn and Harrison.
Condolences, mostly. A few “I’m sorries” from Avery. Shaking his head, Becks opened the fridge and grabbed a beer before retreating to the back deck where the sounds of crickets punctuated the stillness of the night.
He set his phone to play his favorite country playlist—songs that were about something more than tractors, beer, and blue jeans.
He hoped one of the songs could tell him how to shove the emotions back in once he’d let them out.
17
Nicky
“Now that things are settling down, by the time school starts, people will forget who I am, right?” Nicky gazed over Avery’s shoulder at his computer screen.
“Sure, sure.” Avery snapped his computer shut with a guilty look on his face.
“What? You looking at naughty websites?” Nicky plopped down on the couch beside his brother.
Avery winced. “Well…no. It’s nothing really. Not exactly.”
“What are you babbling about?” Nicky didn’t think he could take any more drama.
Avery opened his computer and turned it to face Nicky.
His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the headlines.
“Country Music Sensation Beckett Anderson isn’t even gay. Was it all a lie?”
“PR Stunt gone awry, #BlackWidowBoy was just a puppet in Beckett Anderson’s scheme.”
“Will the real Beckett Anderson please stand up?”
“Oh no.” Nicky groaned. “Has Becks seen it? Is he going to make it through this?”
“Yeah. The articles broke about an hour ago. Nari and Becks are meeting with the label now. I hope they’ll stand behind him since this was all their idea, but I don’t know if that’s enough to save his career. You two need to talk your shit out together and keep the media out of it.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do all summer?” Nicky gave his brother an incredulous look. Did he really think either of them wanted this kind of attention? Nicky clicked on the article with the most hits.
Country music fans everywhere are devastated over the breakup of Beckett Anderson and Nicky St. Germaine—but was it ever a real relationship? Or was it a PR stunt to launch Beckett’s new album into the stratosphere right before his first big tour? Our source tells us the real story behind that epic kiss.
“This is not good.” Nicky scowled at the screen.
Nari charged through the front door to their apartment. “Fix this, Nicky.” She turned devastated eyes on him. “The label is talking about dropping us. Etta Morelli’s team is hunting for a new opening act as a backup replacement. Our PR team is trying to do damage control, but this is bad, Nicky. Career ending bad.”
“How am I supposed to fix this?” Nicky threw his hands up in despair.
“You two need to have a real conversation about your feelings and you, Nicky St. Germaine, need to trust him. Becks is not Kenny. You guys need to make some kind of statement to soothe the fans and show them it wasn’t all fake.”
“But it was all fake,” Nicky insisted. “And it’s out there now. As much as I’d like to, I can’t undo
it, Nars.”
Nari just gave him a look that said she knew none of it was fake though it may have started out that way. “Just talk to him, Nicky. Even if we can’t fix this, Becks needs to know you two can still be friends. If this is really how it’s all going to end for us, he needs you to help him get through it.”
Nicky thrust his hand in his pocket to keep from running it through his fake hair. He felt ridiculous walking up the steps to Skyler’s house looking like an awkward, skinny version of his older brother. But apparently, Nicky would never be able to go anywhere in this town without a disguise. At least not anytime soon.
“Nicky? Is that you?” Skyler laughed as she opened the door.
“Don’t laugh.” Nicky stepped inside.
She craned her neck out of the door to look for news vans and cameramen lurking in the bushes around her house. “Well, it appears to have worked. No one followed you.” She closed the door behind her.
“How did I get to be the center of the country music gossip scene?” Nicky shook his head. “It baffles me.”
“It may not seem like it now, but it will blow over. He’s hiding in the backyard having a pity party for one. Go see if you can talk some sense into him.”
“He’s a stubborn guy, but I’ll try.” Nicky followed Sky through to the back of the house. Nicky stepped onto the small porch, watching Becks sit solemnly beside the firepot in the yard. A circle of Adirondack chairs surrounded the deep stone firepot. Becks stared into the depths of the flames as if they held the answers to his current predicament.
“You look ridiculous.” He finally spoke, turning his gaze on Nicky.
“I know.” Nicky snatched the dark wig and hat from his head.
“Don’t ever make fun of my man-bun again.”
Nick took the seat beside Becks, rubbing his sweaty palms against the loose-fitting jeans he’d borrowed from Avery.
“You here to try to make me feel better?” Becks took a long sip of his beer. “You should know that’s not possible. Even for you.”
“You really are throwing a pity party.” Nicky sat back against his chair. “Becks, I’m here for whatever you need.”
Becks snorted. “Can you go back in time and stop me from kissing you? ’Cause if you can, that’d be perfect.”
“No. Unfortunately neither of us can take that back, so we just have to deal with the fallout.”
“I’m going to lose everything.” Becks turned toward him. “And it’s all your fault.” His dark eyes were angry and hazy with alcohol.
“No, it’s not, and you know it. Don’t be an asshole drunk. It doesn’t look good on you.” Nicky was through with trying to make everyone happy. This all started because he’d wanted to help Becks save his career. And look where that got them? “It’s your label’s fault. You only did what they insisted, and when it didn’t go their way, they didn’t step up to support you.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Becks sighed, tossing his empty bottle across the yard toward the garbage cans. He missed and reached for the cooler beside his feet for a fresh beer. He didn’t offer one to Nicky, but he knew Nicky didn’t drink.
“You can still fix this,” Nicky said.
“How?” Becks laughed. “Go back to pretending I’m in love with you? That whole plan was a disaster.”
“No, but what if we tried the truth for once?” Nicky suggested. “Give your fans the honesty they deserve. Tell them how you really feel about me and how confusing that is for both of us. And then let the chips fall where they may. Your fans might rally around you and support you or they might not, but either way, you can walk away knowing you did everything you could to save your career—on your own terms and not the label’s.”
“The truth? I don’t think I’m familiar with that version of our story.” Becks seemed determined to wallow in his self pity. “Just leave me alone, Nicky. I’m not yours to fix. I never was.”
“Knock it off, Beckett,” Nicky whispered. “You don’t need me or anyone else to fix things for you. You’re a big boy now and it’s time to clean up your own mess.” Nicky stood to leave. “It’s up to you to decide what really led you to kiss me that day. Stop lying to your fans and yourself. I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through right now, but I have always been your friend, and I always will be. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Nicky left him to his pity party and hoped that something he’d said would get through that thick skull of his.
“Rising country music star, Beckett Anderson pretends to be gay to garner more fans for his new album, but his PR stunt blows up in his face.”
“LGBTQ Community in an uproar over Beckett Anderson’s ploy to be one of them.
“Beckett Anderson should be ashamed of himself for exploiting his supposed gay relationship in the media only to ‘come out’ as straight. His career is over before it really began.”
“Nicky St. Germaine—a victim of catfishing? Or a willing participant in this year’s biggest celebrity scandal?”
“Nicky St. Germaine was an innocent bystander before Beckett Anderson bulldozed his way into his life, leaving him an outcast with a broken heart.”
“This trash has gone too damn far.” Avery tossed his phone onto the café table. “They need to leave you out of it.”
“At least they’re not bashing me anymore,” Nicky said. “I just wish they’d leave Becks alone and let this ‘scandal’ die once and for all.”
“He made his bed when he cooked up this whole scheme,” Avery said. “It’s not like the press is saying anything that isn’t true at this point. They’ve blown this story wide-open and danced on its grave.”
“Don’t blame Becks for this, Avery. The lie was never his idea.”
“That might be true, but he’s dragged you through the mud. I don’t think I can forgive him for that.”
“He was doing what his PR team advised. They’re the bad guys in this scenario, and Becks doesn’t deserve to lose his dream over this—or his best friend. He’s worked too damn hard to get where he is.”
“But he used you, Nicky.” Avery leaned closer across the table. “He hurt you.”
“Avery, don’t listen to everything you read about us. Becks was confused. He has all these feelings he doesn’t know what to do with. I know better than most how that feels. I was just lucky not to have it all aired in the press when I was struggling with who I was. I don’t know how to help Becks, but I’m sure as hell not going to abandon him when he needs us most. And neither are you.”
18
Becks
Was it ever a real relationship?
That was the answer the world wanted to know from Beckett Anderson. He laughed at the thought, realizing how insane that sounded. The world didn’t care what he did. He could disappear, and most people on this planet wouldn’t even know he ever existed.
But Nashville was its own kind of world. One where he had to answer to the country gods—the people who signed his checks, booked his concerts, and got his songs on the radio.
Was it ever a real relationship?
Was any relationship in this city real?
Becks knew he should stay away from the internet when his name was trending. This time, there was no hashtag to laugh at like #SexyBecksy. Instead, people didn’t write about him, only what he did. As if one action, one lie, determined his worth.
Maybe, it did.
Wylder’s name flashed on his phone for the third time in the past hour. Becks set the laptop on the coffee table and scooted across Skylar’s couch to reach his phone. If he didn’t answer eventually, Wylder would do something stupid like get into her car and drive to Nashville.
“Wylder,” he said as a greeting.
Her sigh echoed through the phone. “Do you know who spilled their guts to the press?”
“No.” He leaned back. “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out who even knew. I don’t know if there’s a way to find out. Besides, I’m not sure it really matters.”
�
�Of course, it does.”
He closed his eyes, trying to feel any of the anger his sister held in her words. Instead, he was just tired. Tired of secrets and lies, of doing whatever was necessary for this career he once thought was the most important thing. When he opened them, he wasn’t sure he had any fight left in him. “Wylder, finding out who told the press about the fake relationship won’t change what I did. It won’t change the fact that Etta Morelli will probably decide she wants me off the tour. It won’t change the fact that my phone has remained silent all morning except for calls from you and Asher.”
“The people from the label haven’t called you since the news broke?”
That wasn’t exactly what he meant, but for the first time, he realized they hadn’t. It’d been a few hours since the first articles appeared, and he knew it was past office hours, but he expected calls from his PR team at least.
His brow furrowed as he tried to remember the last time he spoke to them. Days ago, they’d wanted him to distance himself from Nicky. To let the news of the breakup fade away.
Wylder took his silence to mean something else. “He hasn’t called either, has he?”
Becks knew what his sister meant without needed a name. “Have you talked to him?”
“I tried, Becks, but Nicky and I have been missing each other’s calls since he moved. He calls me a lot, and I know he just wants to see how I’m doing after Mom…but I haven’t exactly been in the mood to talk.”
“You called me.”
“You’re my brother. When the shit hits the fan for you, it no longer matters what else is going on. Mom barely knew us, but I’d like to think she’d want us to be there for each other.”
Dating Him: The Series Page 19