Jumpstart

By: Riley Hart
Special Thanks




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!





Acknowledgements




First and foremost I want to thank my readers. Thank you for the support, for the love you have shown the Crossroads men, as well as all my other guys. I am thankful for you every day.



Thanks to Jessica and Hope from Flat Earth Editing. Also, to Judy’s Proofreading. My books wouldn’t be what they are without you.



I’d like to thank Christina Lee, Heather and Wendy for reading early versions of Beckett and Christian’s story.



I’d like to thank everyone from 1001 Dark Nights for including Jumpstart in one of your bundles. I’m honored to be part of such an incredible, supportive program.



Last but not least, thank you to Riley’s Rebels and The M/M Daily Grind. You guys make my days brighter.





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.