59. Chapter 59
Fucking Phoenix.
Colt hated Phoenix. Hated how much hotter it was, hated the people, the dumbass drivers who didn't believe in turn signals, the endless interstates.
And the goddamn airport, apparently. As he yanked his sneakers back on next to a pile of stuff he'd had to pull out of his bag, he cursed Mateo for the extra two shots of Tito's before they'd all left.
He wasn't dying, but he had a low-grade headache behind his eyes, and he kind of wanted to murder the yappy dog being dragged through the airport by a gleeful little girl.
He stuffed all his crap back in his bag and hauled it over his shoulder.
They'd given him a townhouse near the Liberty facilities. Two bedroom, for whatever the fuck reason, and this bag was all he’d brought to put in it.
The rest of his clothes and some keepsakes were being shipped via movers.
He’d left his ratty couch and lumpy mattress to Xavier when he’d taken over Colt’s lease.
“Hey, nice shirt.” A guy with wild 80s curls gave Colt the finger guns. “Alice Cooper lives here, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
About two miles down from Colt’s parents, actually.
“Right on.” The guy smiled at him and walked off.
Stupid to be wearing Beau's stupid shirt still. It didn't even smell like him anymore.
He joined the hustle toward the gates, following the crowd toward one of the farthest terminals because the world was out to get him today.
There was nowhere to sit in the waiting area, so Colt propped his bag next to a pillar and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows.
His plane wasn't here yet, but it should be arriving in the next ten minutes.
A sound like an animal dying echoed down the hall, and Colt winced. Jesus. Was that a kid? Or a dog that needed to be put out of its misery?
Whatever it was, it was on his flight, apparently, drawing closer, people turning to look. Whoever that poor sucker was that was trying to bring his animal on this flight was going to have a long fucking day.
When it sounded like the animal was right next to Colt’s ear, he finally turned.
And forgot how to breathe.
Toast.
The screaming animal was Toast.
Because Beau was standing in front of Colt with a fucking cat backpack, Toast's face smashed against the front plastic bubble while he wailed his displeasure.
Beau had that army green bag with the Rolling Stones patch on one shoulder, and the traffic-cone-orange one Colt had left at his house on the other.
Colt's eyes drifted down to the Grateful Dead patch slapped on the front, covering up a skull's eye.
“Toast wouldn't give it back.” Beau's voice was a low, honey-dark rumble, and when Colt looked into his eyes again he saw so much uncertainty there. “He put a hole in it with his teeth when I tried to take it. Clung on until he dropped.”
Tears burned Colt’s eyes, and he swiped his nose with his arm, chuckling a broken kind of chuckle at the image. “He's a menace.”
“Yeah.”
Toast screamed, and Beau stepped closer, and Colt desperately told his tears to get the fuck back in his eyes. He would not cry like an idiot in Sky freaking Harbor.
“You came.” It dropped out as a whisper, but Beau heard him anyway.
He nodded and held out his hand. “Yeah, boy. I came. You were right.”
Taking a shaking breath, Colt stepped closer and took Beau’s hand, and one of his stupid tears escaped.
Toast slapped the plastic bubble with his paw and yowled.
Beau tugged Colt forward, and Colt dropped against him with a sound that was definitely not a sob.
They hugged until Toast tried to slam his way out the top of the bag and airport security was starting to look interested.
Colt pulled back and scrubbed his eyes. “Is he wearing the harness?”
“Course he is.” Beau set the backpack on the ground and pulled Toast's leash out of his pocket to hand to Colt. “TSA website said he needed a carrier through security though.”
“Poor baby,” Colt cooed while he unzipped the bag and darted his hand in to grab the harness before Toast could escape. He clicked the leash into place and hefted the beast out with a grunt. “I've got you.”
Toast meowed at him, a frantic set of sounds like he was telling Colt a story while he shoved his face repeatedly into Colt's chin. Colt wrapped his arms around the cat so he could stand up again, the leash twisted in his fingers.
“You'll spoil him,” Beau murmured.
“Too late.” Toast climbed until his front legs were on Colt's shoulder, tail flicking as he purred so loud Colt felt it in his chest.
He turned and stood with his shoulder against Beau’s side, and Beau settled his hand on the back of Colt's neck while they watched their plane taxi toward the gate.