“Thanks, babe.” He took them and headed over to put them on the grill, checking the chicken after. He shot a look at Beck. “Everything cool?”
Beck sighed. “No, but it will be. In the meantime, we’re not having temper tantrums.”
“Good deal.” He’d worked with bull riders his whole life. He knew from tantrums. It sucked, but it was the name of the game. He’d had more than one himself.
“Chicken smells good.” Beck picked up the bottle of beer he’d left sitting next to the grill before he went inside. “Parker told me you qualified to ride at finals.”
“Sure. I won the event that took me out. I’ve qualified every year I rode.” And he was damn proud of that. Not a lot of men could say that.
“Congrats.” Beck kissed his cheek. “So, I took that fine, and it could have stopped there, but then Parker went on to say that since you’re a two-time champ, you have to go. I told him if you had plans to go, you’d have told me, but he was pretty insistent.”
“It’s another three months. I thought I’d see how your work was going. If you got time and want to, we can go.” Right now, Beck was busy getting used to full-time again. Why stress it?
Beck looked at Parker. “You heard that ‘if,’ right? You need to let it go, kid. Sky would have talked to me if he was making plans.”
“Well, sure.” He’d never lied to Beck. Beck knew he was gone every weekend back then. It was the job.
“So what? You just quit?” Parker stared at him. “You’re one of the best! You’re not allowed to quit!”
“Park, dude. I’m broke. Still. I have new parts.” And he’d been wanting off the merry-go-round. He was tired, sore, and it wasn’t making him happy anymore.
“He didn’t quit.” Look at Beck, defending his honor. “He didn’t quit, he can’t ride. Not bulls.”
“I was fixin’ to retire this season, Park. No matter what. I wanted to retire and try to get my guy back.” He hadn’t told anyone—not even Beck. “It’s not good anymore. I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m tired.”
“And what are you going to do? You going to be an announcer or something?” Parker asked, and he still didn’t know.
“I think the point is not to travel. Oh, you need a clean plate for that chicken. I’ll be right back.” Beck patted his butt and disappeared back into the house.
“Did he like, hypnotize you or something, man?”
Parker didn’t mean it, and he knew it. The kid was scared. There was right at six years between them, and that was way closer now than it was when Park was eighteen. It was fucking scary to admit it was over.
But it was.
It was over.
“He’s my husband.” He was caught through the balls a long time ago.
“Y’all were broke up!”
“I know. It sucked.”
Parker scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I was counting on you teaching me something. Something I haven’t figured out yet, you know?”
“There are hundreds of bull riders a year. One champ. That’s it. Enjoy it, gather your sponsors, make a plan for the end.” What was he supposed to teach? He’d won his first championship with youth, the second with luck and skill. He didn’t know shit.
“Make a plan? Dude, you were going to Mexico to drink. Is that a plan? Because that’s all I got. I don’t have a fancy lawyer to get back together with.”
“You got good friends, buddy.” He took Park’s hand. “You got real good friends.”
And of course, that was when Beck walked out.
Goddamnit.
Beck stopped halfway through closing the door and looked at them. “Seriously?” Beck sighed, finished closing the door and put the plate down next to the grill. “If you two lovebirds need some alone time, I can take the Jeep for a ride.”
Sky stared at Beck, that old ache throbbing in him. At least he was used to it. “Don’t worry about it. Let me pull the chicken off, and we can eat.”