Page 33 of Jackrabbit

His shoulders loosened. “Uh-huh. Shoot.”

“You've got sponsors, and that's great,” Beau started. His feet hit the belt in slow, even strides. “That'll help with gear and all. But they're not big names, and neither are you yet.”

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special.” Colt turned to grin at him and Beau rolled his eyes.

He moved on like Colt hadn't said anything at all, upping his speed. “I'm sayin’ there isn't enough money for a car. Need twelve thousand at minimum, and I'd like to put you in something better.”

“Beau…”

“Now, look.” Beau glanced at him before training his gaze forward again. “I know you don't want charity. I get it, alright? But I've got more money sitting around than I know what to do with, and I want to buy your car. We can sell it after, and I'll get my money right back. You'll only need it for a few months. Hell, it might even be worth more by the time you're done with it.”

“No,” Colt said as he upped his own speed. “I'll figure it out.”

Beau was quiet for a long minute, and when Colt flicked his gaze over he saw the other man briefly chew his bottom lip. Then he pressed stop on his treadmill and turned to Colt. “Colt. Come on now. You've been doing so good. Real good. I'm—”

Cutting himself off with a curse, Beau ran a hand through his hair. He put his hands on his hips. “You need a car. I can get you a car, and it won't cost me a damn thing.”

Colt upped his speed again. “No.”

“Colt—”

“No.”

Beau's hand came down on the stop button for Colt’s treadmill, and Colt grabbed the sides and briefly hung his head. Then he looked at Beau, who he really didn't want to deny literally anything, and wiped at his mouth.

“It's not about what it'll costyou, Beau. It's about what it'll costme.”

Beau searched his face, taking his time like he did with everything. Then he sighed and nodded. “Alright.”

Simple answer, but Colt felt in that moment like they were on more equal footing than they had been this entire time. He smiled and turned back to his run. Beau followed suit, and they finished the rest of the workout in silence.

But Beau's point wouldn't leave him alone. The issue of the car sat in the back of his mind as he showered after Beau dropped him off. It lingered as he got dressed in clean sweats and an old band tee with the sides cut out. As he sat on his couch and didn't even pretend to not be staring at his poster of The Reeve. As he idly thought about Beau's hands, about the crow’s feet he had now on the rare occasion he smiled, the salt and pepper streaking parts of his hair that he didn't have in this poster.

And then Colt was grabbing his keys and heading out the door. Not even a decision, really. Just his feet needing to move and knowing exactly where to go.

The door to the storage unit groaned as he pulled it open, rusted red at the hinges, but he supposed at a whopping fifteen dollars a month he couldn't be picky about those things.

Since he'd had it off so recently, the tarp only had a minimal layer of dust on it when he pulled it and let it fall to the floor. Wasp gleamed under the dim fluorescents, the yellowjacket on the side shining golden.

He ran his hand along the hood, followed the smooth line of the body all the way to the spoiler Connor and Colt had added themselves when Colt was ten. He remembered telling Connor that it looked silly. Like a bench, he'd said, andConnor had laughed and threatened to make him sit on it like one the next time he raced.

Connor had loved this car. Their parents had tried to make him sell it, told him it wasn't sensible for someone on the path to Harvard to drive around. But he'd kept it and told Colt that maybe it wasn’t right for Harvard, but he wanted to go to MIT anyway. He'd used this car to win almost every single race he'd won. Connor was a beast behind the wheel, and he put every penny toward Colt’s karting.

Opening the driver door, Colt slid inside and leaned back in the seat with one hand on the steering wheel.

“You're so fast, Con,” Colt had said the first time he'd sat in this seat. Nine, missing a tooth on one side. He stuck his tongue through the hole and put his tiptoes on the pedals. “You really love racing, huh?”

Connor had pushed Colt’s shoulder and taken the keys out of his hand. “Nah. You're the racer in the family. I just like watching you do it.”

Closing his eyes, Colt leaned his head back against the seat and tightened his fingers on the wheel. The leather creaked, and he twisted his hands.

Then he took them off the wheel and pulled out his phone. Dialed a number he hadn't used in weeks.

Rosario picked up on the third ring. “Ay, Colt. My man! Haven’t heard from you since your freedom day. You got your car back yet? Coz I’m setting up this—”

“Do you remember Connor’s car?” Colt asked.

He reached out and plucked off the little golden wasp figure hanging in the rearview. Smaller than the tip of his finger, it still shone like new.