Page 110 of Jackrabbit

“Excellent.” Walters nodded and pulled her tablet back. “Now. We've reserved the track for two weeks from today. We'd like to fly you out on Thursday and back on Sunday. Of course, we'll cover room and travel for both of you.”

The phone rang, loud, insistent, and Walters turned to Beau. “If you need to get that, we can be in touch about travel. Do these dates work for you?”

Beau glanced briefly at the tablet she was showing him, didn't see the dates at all, but nodded anyway. Then he stood and walked past Navarro, who was watching him with a shrewd tilt to her mouth, and Hoyt, who was acting like he was furniture.

By the time he was in the lobby, there were two more rings left before voicemail got the call. Beau stared at the phone as it rang once, twice. Then he walked past the desk, opened the front door, and left. Got in his truck and drove home.

There were dishes in the sink from their rushed morning, and Colt’s clothes were scattered on his bathroom floor. The mug Colt had gotten him months ago was on his counter, banged up by now with how often he'd used it. He'd filled it and left it when Colt had convinced him to stop by a drive-through coffee shop instead on the way to work.

Beau left his boots by the front door and walked to the bedroom, past the sheets that he hadn't bothered to straighten. He picked Colt’s clothes up off the bathroom floor and tossed them in the hamper. Brought that to the laundry room and put a load in. He dropped his forehead against the wall while he listened to the washer fill.

“Fuck,” he hissed.

He slapped his hand against the wall hard enough to sting, and Toast yowled his protest from the other side of the house. Then he went back into the bedroom and dropped into his bed, buried himself in sheets that smelled like Colt, and tried to block the rest of the world out.

Chapter 47

He knew Colt was at his front door before he even knocked because Toast scrambled right out of Beau’s lap and ran at the window. Hollow thumps of fists on wood echoed a second later, and Toast meowed. He drained the last of his whiskey and set his glass down. Was he ready for this conversation? Colt wasn't quiet when he was upset.

Beau stood from his armchair as the doorbell rang, followed by another rapid knock.

Toast yowled and ran to smack Beau in the legs, telling him to hurry up and get to the door. Fuzzy traitor.

“Beauregard Moore, you open this fucking door, or I swear—”

Beau pulled it open, and Colt stopped. He was standing on Beau's porch still wearing Beau's shirt, curls wet and wild, cheeks pink with indignation, and he was so goddamn beautiful. He glared and shoved past Beau to get into the house, Toast twisting between his legs and meowing frantically. How he didn't trip over the needy beast was beyond Beau.

Colt made it to the back of the couch before he whirled on Beau and crossed his arms. “What the fuck, Beau?”

Beau shut the front door and leaned against the counter, facing Colt. “You'll have to be more specific.”

Wrong thing to say, apparently. Colt’s eyes blazed and he let out a sharp, bitter sound. “Are you—fuck. You're serious right now, aren't you?”

“I can see you're in a real temper, and I know you're not happywith—”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Beau raised both eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me!” Throwing up both hands, Coltgrowled. “You cannot seriously be standing there trying to therapy me through this and pretending you don't know what I'm mad about. You're either stupid or playing stupid, and I don't think it's the first one.”

“Then I guess I'm stupid, because I don't understand what's got you so goddamn worked up.” Beau worked his jaw and crossed his arms. “You got what you wanted, Colt. Better than. You think they're gonna tell you no after a sponsor like Overthrow came knockin’? This is your dream, and you achieved it in two months.”

“That!” Colt strode forward and jabbed his finger toward Beau’s chest. “That, right there, is thefuckingproblem!”

“What?” Beau took a step forward, his voice sharp. “Reality? Is reality the problem?”

“No!” Colt shoved Beau’s chest. “You! You’re the problem! You just—you GAVE UP ON ME!”

“Gave up on you?” Beau was shouting now too, and Toast hissed at them before running off into the guest bedroom. “You think that’s what I’m doin’? I’m notgivin’ up. I’mlettin’ you go.Because that’s all I can do! Can’t you—”

“Letting me go! I never asked you to—”

“—why can’t you see that? Companies like Liberty Speedworks don’t hire mechanics from bum-fuck, Arizona as Crew Chiefs. If I’d have argued with you, they might have pulled their offer. Then what? Then it’s my goddamn fault you lost your—”

“—decide that for me, Beau, Jesus fucking—”

“—and I—”