Jumpstart (Crossroads Book 4) Read online

  JUMPSTART

  A Crossroads Novella

  By Riley Hart

  Copyright © 2016 by Riley Hart

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  Published by:

  Riley Hart

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All products/brand names mentioned are registered trademarks of their respective holders/companies.

  Cover Design by X-Potion Designs

  Cover Image by Jean-Baptiste HUONG (www.jeanbaptistehuong.com)

  Edited by Edited and proofread by Flat Earth Editing and Judy’s Proofreading

  Special thanks to my husband for making me fall in love with motocross. I never thought I would enjoy it like I do. It’s even more special since I get to share it with you. And hey, I made you a trainer!

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Special Thanks

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgement

  About the Author

  Other books by Riley Hart

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Supercross Champion Beckett Monroe is Gay!”

  Beck looked at the news article from his phone and groaned. “I’m bi, you dickheads,” he whispered softly.

  “Excuse me?” the older woman in the first class seat beside him asked. She looked up at him sweetly like the grandmother from a fairy tale who was sugar and spice and everything nice, and here he was calling people dickheads.

  “Nothing. Sorry.” He didn’t add anything else. He was no doubt a bear to be around and the woman didn’t deserve his surly attitude, but he couldn’t help it. He was pissed.

  He’d known news would break today—known shit that shouldn’t be headlines would be—but knowing ahead of time didn’t edge his anger. Part of it was his own damn fault. He knew it was. If he’d been honest about himself from the start, there wouldn’t be headlines right now.

  Actually, that was just him lying to himself. There would have been headlines when he’d come out and headlines after. The world was shitty like that. He didn’t believe anyone should have to declare their sexuality if they weren’t straight, but the fact was, they did, he hadn’t and now there was a shitstorm of publicity because god forbid a motocross star liked dick.

  And he did. He liked dick a lot.

  He’d also been ready to let the world know who he was because he was tired, so fucking tired of keeping that part of himself a secret. It’s the reason he’d gone to the gay bar that night when everyone was in town for the race. It’s why he’d given his name when people asked. It’s why he’d let it slip in mixed-company what he was in town for. He hadn’t given a shit anymore.

  Still, it pissed him off that every major motocross magazine treated his sex life like it was important to anyone but himself and whoever he was with. The world had a whole hell of a lot more important things to talk about than who he happened to be fucking at the moment.

  He glanced at the article again before exiting the screen and powering down his phone as he waited for the plane to take off.

  As soon as they began taxiing down the runway he closed his eyes, hoping to take a nap and get his mind off everything. Not just the headline and his family’s reaction but also his career that, despite his wins, hadn’t felt right for a while now.

  His eyes were only closed a moment when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Damn it. He tried not to groan before opening his eyes to look at the woman beside him.

  She gave him that sweet smile again, making it hard to be frustrated with her.

  “I don’t understand it.” She shook her head before nodding at his phone, making his hackles immediately rise. Of course she’d seen what he’d been looking at, and of course she had to tell him her opinion about his life. Why should he believe otherwise? The universe obviously wasn’t very happy with him right now.

  “With all due respect, ma’am, there’s nothing to understand. I’m not expected to understand why you’re straight so why should you have to understand why I’m bisexual?” With a heavy lean toward men.

  Her smile was different this time—full of mischief as her eyes sparkled. “Well, that’s not very progressive of you. If straight shouldn’t be the default, why do you assume I’m straight?”

  Okay…well, she had him there. Who the hell was this lady? She had to be at least seventy-five years old. It showed in the wrinkles on her face and the tremor in her hands, but he had a feeling she could give anyone a run for their money. He had to bite back his smile. “You’re right. I apologize. What don’t you understand, then?”

  “Why it matters. Why we have to have headlines like that. The world is a funny place, isn’t it?”

  “You can say that again.” Beckett blew out a deep, frustrated breath.

  “Margaret Edwards,” she told him.

  “Beckett Monroe, ma’am.”

  “So tell me about yourself, Mr. Beckett Monroe.” As nice as she was, Beckett wasn’t really in the mood to talk right now. He felt like that’s all he’d done recently—talk to his parents on the phone, talk to his sponsors, his team. Right now, he just wanted to be.

  The plane rocked, the familiar feel of turbulence shaking them. Margaret’s trembling hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. She closed her eyes, took a couple deep breaths and when the turbulence stopped, she looked at him again. “Sorry about that. I hate flying. I lost the love of my life in a small plane crash.”

  His heart ached for her, and it made him wonder where the hell the rest of her family was. They shouldn’t leave her to fly alone.

  When the plane bounced again, Margaret clutched him a second time as the pilot spoke on the overhead about keeping seatbelts on and the ride being a bumpy one. Beckett opened his mouth and said, “Well…I’m a professional motocross racer, but I guess you know that already.”

  The distraction seemed to work. Margaret winked at him and said, “A gay motocross racer.”

  “Actually, I’m bisexual, but yes.”

  “And you have a broken heart,” she whispered.

  “Huh?” He shook his head. “I don’t have a broken heart.” He was angry, confused. Tired of talking about his sexuality, tired of explaining himself to his family and friends. Frustrated over the passion he’d felt in the dirt being dimmed the past year or so. Dirt bikes had always been his life. He didn’t understand why the same adrenaline didn’t pump through his veins when he rode or why flying over jumps didn’t feel the same.

  “Sure you do. People with broken hearts always recognize each other.”

  Her words slammed into his chest. Beckett looked at her, opened his mouth then closed it again, not sure what to say. He didn’t have a broken heart—not after all these years. “I don’t…I’m not…”

  The plane bumped around in the air again, this time worse than the other two. Margare
t sucked in a sharp breath and it was Beckett who reached for Margaret’s hand.

  She squeezed his hand, closed her eyes, and he let her hold him. He tightened his grip and before he knew it, he found himself saying, “I don’t have a broken heart.” He didn’t really have the right, considering it was his fault they weren’t together—or at least his fault that they hadn’t tried. “But there was someone…a long time ago. He was never really mine though, and I’m the one who ruined it.” He shook his head, tightening his grip on Margaret’s hand. “We haven’t seen each other in years. It was over a long time ago.”

  He shifted, uncomfortable with the conversation.

  “What does time have to do with anything?” she asked and Beckett didn’t have an answer for her. But the truth was, he still thought about him. He still missed their friendship.

  “What’s his name?” Margaret asked.

  “Christian.”

  “And what happened between you?”

  “I hurt him,” Beckett said truthfully. “I didn’t stand by him the way I should have and then I cut contact with him.”

  He would always regret that. No matter what, they’d been friends and friends didn’t treat people the way Beckett had treated Christian.

  Beckett cleared his throat, sat up straighter. “What about you?”

  Margaret rolled her eyes at him. “I’m boring. You’re the bisexual dirt bike racer, let’s talk about you.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle at that…and he also couldn’t help but talk. He told her about riding, about getting his first used bike at four and falling in love. About everything his family had sacrificed for him to ride, for him to go pro. They hadn’t had the money and his parents had worked hard for Beckett’s dream to come true.

  He even spoke a little about Christian—how they’d been best friends all their lives and all the trouble they used to get into together.

  Before he knew it, the plane was landing in Norfolk, Virginia, where he would get his rental car and drive out of the city to where his friend Landon lived. They’d met in Florida. Landon was a motorcycle mechanic who had done some unofficial work on one of Beckett’s bikes.

  Landon had moved back to where he was raised when his sister got married. He worked in a shop and had gone and fallen in love with a man who ran an adult novelty store. Beckett hadn’t met Landon’s partner, but he knew his friend was happy. He couldn’t wait to spend some time here and to unwind.

  As they waited to deplane, Beckett couldn’t help but watch Margaret. She had only her small purse with her. He wanted to know what she was doing here. If she was coming home or leaving.

  Going off instinct, he grabbed a napkin and asked, “Do you have a pen?”

  Margaret retrieved one from her purse. He took the pen, wrote his phone number on the napkin and handed both to her. “I know this is a little strange, but…I just want you to have this, in case you ever need anything. Please, don’t hesitate to call.”

  Margaret’s eyes became slightly watery. “Thank you.” She took the napkin from him. As the people in front of them began to deplane, she added, “Being alone is no fun, Beckett Monroe. You fix that broken heart of yours, okay?”

  He nodded and then Margaret stepped into the aisle and walked away. He wanted to. He really did. The only thing was, he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know what was wrong with him or how to make himself feel whole again.

  *

  “Supercross Champion Beckett Monroe is Gay!”

  Christian Foster read the same headline three times. He tossed the magazine to the table and whispered, “He’s bi, you dumb shits,” before he immediately leaned forward and picked it up again. He had to check out the full article. There was no way he couldn’t read the whole damn thing. Beck was the reason he had a fucking subscription to Motocross Today in the first place. He’d never been into bikes quite as much as Beck was. Sure, he’d enjoyed riding when they were kids. It was a rush in a lot of ways but in others he’d done it because that’s what Beck was always doing and they’d been best friends their whole childhood. Where Beck was, Christian wanted to be.

  Or at least he used to always want to be where Beck was. That was a long time ago.

  Christian read the article detailing Beckett’s night at a gay bar, that and the blurry pictures of him kissing a man outside made his gut twist uncomfortably. Jesus, it read like a soap opera or something. It wasn’t as though the magazine never ran personal stories about riders, just usually nothing like this.

  No one else outside the moto world would know—or give a damn. This was a first for the community though, and as much as he didn’t want to, he couldn’t help but wonder how Beck was dealing with it…how his team and sponsors were dealing with it. Then he wanted to burn the fucking magazine because it shouldn’t matter. There shouldn’t be anything to deal with.

  Beck’s family was a different story. They loved him. There was no doubt about that. Christian didn’t think they would do anything foolish…but Christian remembered how awkward things had been when he’d come out—or been dragged out—before he was ready by a stupid letter written in teenage angst about loving another boy. It had been a shock to his parents and Beck’s as well. Since they were so close, the first question had of course been…is this about Beckett?

  They’d assured their families that it wasn’t even though it really fucking was and had been mutual. Beck had continued his career and left for training—Christian had come to California for college; he and Beckett had stopped speaking.

  “Fuck.” Christian dropped back against the couch and groaned. It had been a long time since he’d let Beck in his head like this and he didn’t like it. He could always call his mom to ask if she’d spoken to Beck’s parents.… “No. I’m out of my damn mind.”

  “Talking to yourself is one of the signs.” Quinn walked out of Christian’s room wearing nothing but a pair of underwear. “Are you coming back to bed?” he asked.

  He probably should. He needed the rest, but he shook his head and held up the magazine. “He’s out. I’m not sure how it really happened, but he’s out.” It wasn’t as though most motocross riders were recognized on the streets like other sports stars—that’s why he didn’t understand how this had even happened.

  Quinn sighed, walked over, and fell on the couch beside him. “Your teenage crush-slash-love of your life who likes to play in the dirt?”

  Christian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes.” He sighed and dropped his head on Quinn’s shoulder. He’d been Christian’s first friend when he moved to California. They’d met in college and he helped Christian acclimate to life here. They were close. The only person Christian had ever been closer to was Beckett, but there had never been anything other than friendship between him and Quinn. Most people didn’t believe that, but it was true.

  “You sound sad, boo.”

  Christian rolled his eyes. He was going to fucking kill Quinn. “Don’t call me boo.”

  “Would you prefer bae? I don’t quite get that one but I’d be willing to use it for you.”

  He knew Quinn was just trying to make him laugh, but he couldn’t. He felt ridiculous that after all these years, Beckett’s life still had an effect on him. It wasn’t that he was in love with Beck anymore but…“It’s hard to explain. Until I was eighteen years old, every major event that happened in my life—hell, most of the minor ones too—involved him in some way. Then I realized I was gay and had feelings for him and I was scared out of my damn mind. I did everything I could to hide it from Beckett and everyone else.”

  “And then things changed between you and he was part of you accepting who you were and then he broke your heart. It makes sense that Beckett finally being public about who he is would make you think some thoughts.”

  Again, Christian chuckled. “Think some thoughts, huh?”

  “You know what I mean. I’m tired. You and your damn insomnia.”

  Quinn was right. He just needed to go back to bed and quit thinking about B
eckett Monroe. He’d done fine without him for ten years. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  But Quinn didn’t get up. He set a hand on Christian’s thigh and squeezed it. “You know you can always call him. Or hell, go see him. It’s not as if you can’t take the time off. You deserve a vacation, as hard as you’ve been working, and it is understandable that he might be struggling a bit. If he wasn’t ready to come out, then that article can’t be a good thing. There’s nothing wrong with being there for an old friend.”

  Again, Christian didn’t understand it. How something like that could have happened. Still, what was he supposed to do? Track Beckett’s phone number down through their parents? Beckett hadn’t needed Christian in a long time and he sure as hell didn’t need him now.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Beckett had gotten into town late last night. He’d rented a car so he wouldn’t have to depend on Landon to help him get around. He would no doubt be busy with his partner, Rod, and working at the motorcycle shop—which was where Beckett was headed now. They’d decided to meet there and then grab lunch together. He was excited to see his friend. It had been too long since they’d hung out.

  Landon had always loved bikes the way Beckett did, and nestled deep inside him was the hope that spending time with him would remind Beckett why he’d always lived and breathed being on two wheels. It was different than talking shop with his trainer or his crew. Landon was a personal friend. They were both bisexual men. He knew Landon on a different level than the guys he rode with—even though he did love the hell out of them. It was just a different kind of love.

  The GPS on his phone told him where to go as he made his way to the shop Landon worked at. It was about forty-five minutes from him.

  When he pulled up in front of the white building with the stalls open and filled with bikes, he saw Landon standing outside. As he put the car into park and got out, Landon pushed off the wall. They met in front of the vehicle and he immediately pulled Landon into a hug. “It’s good to see you, man,” he said.