Page 51 of Jackrabbit

Colt glanced at Beau briefly, but went right back to the race. Bags under his slightly glazed eyes, Colt looked dead tired. But he pressed his lips together and kept going anyway.

“Turn it off, Colt,” Beau said.

“I just need to—”

“You need sleep,” Beau interrupted as the lights flickered across Colt’s cheekbones. “This isn't helping you. You're punishing yourself.”

“Well, maybe that’s what I deserve.” Colt’s eyebrows drew together as he took a turn on the sim. “I just need to get it right.”

“You’re not gonna get it right when you’re like this.” When Beau reached for Colt’s shoulder, Colt dipped out of reach. Beau settled his hand on the seatback instead. “I’m tellin’ you as your coach: turn it off. Now.”

Colt still didn’t shut it down, so Beau leaned across him and did it himself. The screens flickered off just as Colt’s car was veering into a wall again, and the garage went dark without the lights from the sim. Moonlight filtered in through the garage windows, and Toast threw himself against the door leading to the inside.

“What the fuck, Beau?” Colt hissed, whipping around in his seat. He hadn’t even done the harness up. “Why would you do that?”

“You’re not helpin’ yourself. Ain’t fixin’ nothin’.” Beau raised both eyebrows at Colt and tightened his hand on the seatback. “All you’re doin’ is relivin’ your pain on repeat, and I won’t sit here and watch you do it.”

“Then go back inside.” Colt turned back to the sim and flipped it back on.

“Colt.”

Colt squared his shoulders and started the next round, the little—

Growling, Beau moved to the other side of the sim and yanked the cord out of the wall socket.

“Goddamnit!” Colt scrambled out of the seat and stormed over to Beau, pointing a finger at his chest. “What’s your problem?”

Beau crossed his arms. “You know what my problem is, boy. Get your ass back in the house before I carry you there myself.”

“You wouldn’t.” Colt was seething, but Beau could see right through it to the pain of it all. He stood his ground as Colt paced away and ran his hands through his hair before storming back. “You don’t get to make that call.”

“I'm the only man who gets to make that call.” Beau kept his voice calm and even. “You don't get to choose this when you're losing it.”

“Move,” Colt snapped.

“No, I don't think I will,” Beau drawled.

Quicker than Beau could have tracked if he weren't expecting it, Colt tried to dart around him and grab the cord. Beau snatched him around the waist with one arm and lifted him off his feet.

Colt kicked his feet and flailed as he tried to get back to the floor. “Let me down,” he snarled as he tried to twist away. “This is bullshit!”

“Mhmm.” Beau hiked Colt over his shoulder like a sack of grain and carried him toward the garage door.

As Colt kicked out and gave a wordless, strangled scream, Beau turned toward the back yard instead. The whole way, Colt fought. He was exhausted, underfed, dehydrated, in the middle of self-flagellation, and absolutely checked out of his body.

Beau carried him to the bean-shaped pool, littered with leaves on top from the storms but otherwise clean. Shifted his grip. “Sorry about this.”

Then he tossed Colt into the water and hopped right in himself.

Chapter 30

Cold.

Fucking cold.

Water slipped over Colt's head and into his ears, and he opened his eyes. Bubbles flared up around his flailing arms and legs.

Beau had—