Page 27 of Jackrabbit

Her voice was thick like she’d been crying. Beau had seen her drop a hammer on her foot once, and she’d gone to the hospital for a cast without shedding a single tear. Whatever this was, it had to be bad.

“What’s wrong?” He picked his cat up with one hand and set him on the ground as he pulled himself to his feet. Camila sniffled, and Beau paced into his house. “You tell me what’s wrong right now before I have a heart attack. You hear me, girl?”

By the time she started talking, Beau was already stepping into his boots.

“It’s Colt.”

Beau froze. “What about him?”

“Today’s…” She sniffled again. “His brother died when he was sixteen, did you know that?”

“Mhmm,” Beau said, trying not to sound impatient.

“Connor drove down Morrow Peak with his headlights off and went off the side,” Camila told him. “And Colt, he…”

“Spit it out, girl,” Beau finally snapped as he grabbed his truck keys and yanked his front door open.

“He takes the drive every year on the anniversary of his brother’s death,” Camila finally said, and she hiccuped around more tears. Beau forgot how to fucking breathe. “It’s so fucking stupid and he never listens, but he’s the best driver I’ve ever met. It…he makes it, every time. But, Merc, a few days ago I said some stuff that really fucked him up. About…about you. And he’s in a bad way today. Worse than ever.”

“Christ,” he hissed as he stepped out his door with untied boots and sprinted to his truck. “Where’s he start?”

“There’s a dirt lot at the peak, just before you hit the ski town,” Camila told him, her voice wobbling. “On the left. He starts an hour after sunset, just like Connor.”

“I’ll get him,” Beau promised, hoping to God and anyone who would listen that he wasn’t lying through his teeth. “Thanks.”

He hung up the phone without waiting for an answer and tossed it onto his seat, peeling out of the driveway in a spray of gravel.

It was the longest drive of his entire life, every second like a ticking bomb as the sun set in his rearview. He made it to the peak forty-eight minutes after sunset, and damn near missed the turn, buried behind overgrown pines and brush. Heart in his throat, he eased into the opening and scanned the little clearing.

Hard to miss the other car, a black 1995 Toyota Supra. His headlights illuminated the gold racing stripes along the hood, and the shimmering golden illustration of an angry yellowjacket all along the driver’s side.

Colt didn’t look up even as the headlights washed over his head of curly blonde hair. His arms were over the steering wheel, and his forehead was pressed into one of his thumbs.

But he was still here.

He hadn’t left.

Beau pulled around behind him and shut off his truck. Flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, peeled them off one by one while he steeled himself. Then hestepped out, boots crunching on a blanket of brown pine needles. It was colder at the peak, especially at night, and gooseflesh pricked along his bare arms as he approached the other car.

Beau opened the passenger door.

Chapter 16

He knew it was Beau without needing to look up, pathetically aware of how he smelled, the way he breathed, the quiet way he pulled his bulk into a seat and gently shut the door. The car shifted, and Colt squeezed his eyes tighter.

“This isn’t about you,” he mumbled into the steering wheel because he knew he was fucked up for what he was about to do, but he didn’t want Beau to think he wasthatfucked up. That he was so much of a fucking mess he’d do this just because the two of them had fought.

“I know.”

Colt looked at the clock. Ten minutes. “You need to get out.”

“I won’t.”

Scowling, Colt turned to see Beau watching out the windshield, hands relaxed on his thighs. “You here to talk me out of it? Because you can't.”

“No,” Beau said simply.

“Then what are you doing here, Mr. Moore?” Colt asked, and he knew he sounded caustic, but he couldn't stop. The wheel creaked under his grip as he twisted his hands around it.