Page 49 of Jackrabbit

“Dude, he’s messed up.” Liam picked at the front of his shirt and fanned it for air flow. “Wouldn’t say a word to me.”

“You go get him, Camila.” Xavier crossed his arms. “You’re like his hetero life partner—he’ll listen to you. Man, this is painful.”

“It won’t do any good.” Camila chewed on her thumb nail and shook her head. “He needs to process. It wouldn’t matter if it were me or Payton James himself. He won’t talk to anyone.”

“Knew that cocky little shit didn’t have it.” Tracker Kendrick walked past, smirking at Colt’s car with a woman in a leopard print body suit and red heels on his arm.

Xavier took a step forward, and Beau lowered his voice. “Don’t. He ain’t worth it.”

Kendrick must have heard him anyway, because he gave Beau a dismissive up and down before swaggering off. The woman in heels followed after as best she could with the spikes on her heels burying themselves in the soaked grass.

“Dick,” James murmured as he took a bite of a hot dog. “Reminds me of my old man.”

Someone answered, but it didn’t reach him.

Colt still hadn’t moved.

Beau gave it one more minute before he shook his head. “Go home.”

Whoever was talking stopped, but Beau didn’t wait to see if they’d listen. If they didn’t, Camila would make them, and his feet were already moving before he’d finished speaking anyway. Jaw tight, he let the crowd part around him instead of dodging, beelining toward that ugly ass car. Colt was sitting in hisseat, white-knuckling the wheel with his helmet still on. Staring straight ahead as if he didn’t look away the race might start again and he could fix it.

Beau crouched down by the door and crossed his arms over the window, his knee protesting. There wasn’t so much as a twitch from Colt, so Beau reached around him to turn off the car.

The engine ticked as it cooled.

“Colt.”

Colt took a breath, his fingers flexing on the wheel.

“C’mon now,” Beau rumbled, unlatching Colt’s helmet. “Take it off.”

With an audible swallow, Colt peeled his fingers off the wheel and pulled the helmet off with unsteady hands. His hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, he was pale despite the heat of the cockpit, and his eyes—haunted.

Oh, hewashaunted. Hell. Connor. This wasn’t just about the race.

Beau slid his hand onto the far side of Colt’s neck, spreading his thumb and forefinger against his slick cheek as he leaned in. “Boy, listen to me. Look here.”

Chest rising and falling once, Colt turned and stared somewhere around Beau’s ear. Better than the statue he’d been a second ago, at least.

“One thing at a time, alright?” Beau squeezed gently. “We’re gonna unstrap you and get you out. Then you’re gonna go sit in the truck and sip water.”

Colt blinked.

“Can you do that for me?” Beau murmured.

Colt nodded, and Beau exhaled.

“I—” Colt stopped himself and nodded. “Yeah.”

Beau let go of Colt’s neck so he could unlatch the harness. He grabbed the water bottle off the roof and stepped back to give Colt room to pull himself out of the car. Even if Colt had placed well tonight, there was every chance he was gonna be wobbly as a foal when his feet hit grass. Adrenaline would do that. Beau kept a hand ready as Colt’s feet landed on the ground, and Colt’s knees buckled. But he steadied himself with one hand against the side of the car and then stood next to Beau.

When Beau handed him the water bottle, Colt took it without comment. They started their walk toward the truck. Huge grasshoppers jumped and skittered away from their feet as they walked, some kids with empty paper cups chasing them and shrieking every time they almost caught one. Other than the bugs and the kids, the crowd had dwindled enough that no one was paying attention to them.

Beau set Colt up in the truck with the music off and the AC blasting and went to load the car himself. By the time he was finished strapping it down, Colt had unzipped his suit and drained half the water. They drove away from the track in silence, and Beau kept his hands firmly on the wheel so he wouldn’t grab Colt’s hand or the back of his neck like he was itching to.

When they reached Beau’s house, Colt turned in the seat and folded one leg beneath himself. “I’m sorry. I know I fucked up. I saw the door, and I know you told me not—”

“Not right now.” Beau squeezed Colt’s shoulder. “Whatever you think I’m feeling about that race, you’re wrong. But you need a shower and food, and you need to rest. We can go over the race in the morning.”