Chapter Six
Christian was playing this all off like it was a lot easier than it really was. On the one hand, it was almost as though he and Beck fell flawlessly back into their friendship like nothing had happened. And maybe it should be that way because they’d been kids when Beckett had walked away from him. He’d been protecting himself, doing what he saw as protecting his family and Christian got that. Plus, who didn’t fuck up when they were young? Christian still fucked up almost daily as a twenty-eight-year-old man, but he also had to admit that Beckett had hurt him. Regardless of the why of it or how old they’d been, he still felt like Beck left him on his own back then. He’d covered for himself, and let Christian deal with the rest.
He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about those thoughts, so he tried to ignore them. He could handle that for a few days.
They’d both gotten ready quickly, before looking up a sports store and heading there for supplies. Afterward, they went grocery shopping and filled a Styrofoam cooler with food, drinks and ice before they made their way to the lake. He wasn’t sure why they didn’t go to the river behind the cabin but he just let Beck lead and he followed. The day was more than halfway over by the time they settled in at a quiet spot on the lake in cheap plastic chairs.
“It’s hot. Why did we decide to do this again?” Christian teased, though he knew the answer. He’d always had a hard time saying no to Beckett Monroe.
“Because we haven’t seen each other in ten years and the last time we tried to go fishing together, I left a fishhook on the floor that ended up in your toe. I’m making up for my mistake.”
There was a sort of melancholy tone to Beck’s voice. It made Christian wonder how hard the past ten years had been on him. No one would know it, not when they saw him tearing it up on the track. Not when they saw him hit the podium week after week as he racked up the wins. Even this last season. He knew third in points would feel like a disappointment to Beck, but it was still an amazing accomplishment. Christian wanted to know what was going on beyond the surface. If Beckett was somehow trying to make up for the past.
“How did your family take it?” He asked as he watched his bobber float in the water. There wasn’t a part of him that thought either of them would catch a fish today, but he also didn’t believe they were really out here for that.
Beck sighed. “They’re doing okay. It’s harder on Dad than Mom. She feels guilty…like she should have known. Especially after you. Every time I talk to her, I have to assure her it wasn’t her fault I didn’t say anything. That it was all me, all up here.” He tapped his temple.
“You thought you were protecting them, in a way, Beck. You did it because you worried their hard work would be for nothing if it caused problems in your career.” Regardless of why he’d done it, that hadn’t meant he’d had to sever ties with Christian though. No matter what happened between them, he never should have done that.
“That was my excuse at sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, but what about later? Make no mistake, part of it was my own weakness and fear. There’s no denying that.”
“It’s not always an easy thing to do—especially in the sports world.”
Beckett glanced his way and gave him a sad smile. “You always used to do this.”
“What?” he asked, really not knowing what Beckett meant.
“Make excuses for me. Cover for me. Do whatever you could to make me feel better. I’m a big boy now, Chris. I need to take responsibility for my own shit.”
It was almost as though the whole world stopped around them as they looked at each other. Beckett was right. It was still a reflex for Christian to want to take care of him.
He nodded and turned back toward the lake, surrounded by greenery he didn’t often see in Los Angeles. “And your dad?”
“I’d be lying if I didn’t admit he’s a little uncomfortable. I hear it in the stilted way he speaks to me over the phone. It’s going to take some getting used to, which is sad, but what can you do? Mostly he doesn’t understand, I guess. He thinks the way I did when I was a kid…if I’m bi, I can just choose to settle down with a woman. I can choose to pretend I don’t want men. It’s hard to make him realize it doesn’t work that way. Sure, if I fell in love with a woman, that would be different—I’d be committed to her. But I can’t force myself to only seek out women—to pretend that side of me doesn’t exist.”
Christian didn’t envy him, that was for sure.
They were quiet for a moment, as they pretended to care if they caught fish or not, when Beckett said, “I’m sorry.”
There was no doubt in Christian’s mind exactly what Beckett was apologizing for. Maybe he shouldn’t, but after all these years of hurt, he’d needed to hear it. “It was a long time ago.”
“So? That doesn’t change the fact that I did it.”
He closed his eyes, remembered what it felt like that day. It was when Beckett had come back for a visit from Florida. They’d had a party at Beck’s house and then they’d gone to Christian’s to sleep outside. He’d told Beck about getting accepted to USC and they’d decided to keep seeing each other. All teenage Christian had known was that he loved Beck and he would take him any way he could get him. That wasn’t him anymore.
They’d gone riding the next day. He watched Beck fly as he went over jumps and corners perfectly. He had always been incredible in the dirt.
When they went back to Christian’s house, Beck’s parents had been there. They were sitting in the living room waiting to pounce. Christian’s parents had found a letter Christian had written about being in love with a boy. A letter that was about Beckett but one he’d never been able to read.
“Is it you? Christ, Beckett, are you sneaking around with Christian? Do you know what this could do to your career? We put so much work into it! So much fucking work.” Beck’s dad paced the room and Christian thought he would throw up.
“Earl, calm down,” Beck’s mom told him.
Christian’s mom cried. His dad wouldn’t look at him.
“Is it you?” Earl yelled again and Beckett didn’t respond. Their arms touched they stood so close to each other and Christian could feel him tremble.
“It’s not him. He doesn’t know…I never told him, I’m gay…” Christian looked toward the ground, waited for Beck to reply, waited for Beck to stick up for him, but the words never came.
And that was when Beckett Monroe cut contact with him. He’d sat quiet while Christian had to defend himself, and then he’d avoided Chris when he called, until he made a call of his own to Christian, just yesterday.
“I hated myself for a long time after that. I just fucking rode—trained harder than I’d ever trained. I think I believed if I did well, if I succeeded at motocross, it would have made the sacrifice worth it, it would have meant I did it for a reason.” He paused, shook his head, and then continued.
“It didn’t change anything though, Chris. Not a day has gone by in my life that I don’t regret leaving you to handle that on your own that day. Not a day has gone by that I don’t miss your friendship, or regret walking away from it. You were always my best friend—from the time I learned to speak until this moment right now—even if I didn’t show it.”
Christian let those words swim around his chest. Let them sink in because a part of him really needed to hear it.
When he didn’t reply, Beck asked, “Can I admit something else to you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve been getting to the point lately that I’ve lost the joy in it. I think that’s why this last Supercross season went like it did. There’s a part of me that knows it’s in there—that passion I’ve always felt as I grip the handles and the dirt bike roars under me. That love is still in there, but it’s been hard to find the past year or so and it keeps getting worse.”
Beckett leaned forward, and let his elbows rest on his knees. “It’s like the weight, the denial, all that shit just kept getting heavier and heavier to carry. The more I struggled with it, the harder it was just to feel pure fucking joy in anything anymore. I’m so damn scared of losing that joy, Chris. Who is Beckett Monroe if he’s not the guy who loves motocross more than anything else in the world?”
There was the truth Christian had been looking for last night—why Beck hadn’t been able to say he loved what he did even though Christian knew he did.
“I don’t know, man. That’s what you have to figure out.” But Christian did know—he was the man who loved riding, who wanted to take care of his family, who had a work ethic like no one Christian had ever known. He was Christian’s best friend, the guy who made him laugh and shared so much of his past. He was a terrible fisher, and a bad liar. He hated TV unless it was MX related and never understood Christian’s love of games. It was up to Beckett to discover himself, though.
“I’m trying to. That’s why I did what I did. That’s why I’m here. I think it’s why I called you. I always knew who I was with you.”
Christian closed his eyes. Tried not to curse. He didn’t know if he was ready to hear things like that from Beckett again or if he ever would be. The thought of caring for Beck again scared the hell out of him, but on the other hand, it almost felt inevitable.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Beck. You never did. I have no doubt you’ll figure it out, and would have without me.”
“Thank you,” Beckett said softly…and then they were quiet again. A frog croaked in the background and Beck began to reel his line in.
Finally, Christian told him, “It was a long time ago. I forgive you.”
He likely had the second he heard Beckett Monroe’s voice on the phone, but to say it out loud released something inside of him that he’d held onto for too long.