I heard tyres screeching on the street in front of me, and for a second I thought I might have pushed myself in front of a car to end it all.

I looked up and saw a Nissan Skyline. A spoiler on the back, just like mine had. Black paint just like mine had. The wheels just like mine had. The world was mocking me.

I closed my eyes again, waiting for the telltale sound of it's exhaust to leave before I dared open them again.

I was on the sidewalk, not in front of the car. I let out a deep breath and looked at the building behind me. There was nothing special about it, just a business name above the door. One that didn't matter anymore, because I had just been rejected from my interview.

The third one for the day.

The tenth this week.

It had been a month since the crash. I was still in a wheelchair. My back was killing me every hour of every day. Three vertebrae had shattered in the crash, but they had pieced them back together. I had the faintest feeling back in my legs, but nothing like what I had before. They told me that was because of the nerve damage. I might never have full feeling back, but if I put in the work, I had a real chance of walking again.

The rehab for walking again would start next week, and from there, it would probably take another eight weeks to be back to something resembling normal.

The consequences of my racing had been a fine I paid for immediately, for two and a half thousand pounds, and eleven demerit points. It meant I kept my license, but with only one point left on it for three years. I would have to keep in line.

I had to move away from Birmingham, away from the racing, but I couldn't afford to. And if I did, I would lose the only support I had left because Jake couldn't leave. His whole life is here.

I pushed the wheels on my chair, taking myself back to the café that I knew Jake was waiting in. The step out the front prevented me from getting in. I hadn't realised how few places there were that could accommodate for wheelchairs until they placed me in one. Thankfully, he saw me and walked out, handing me a takeaway cup.

"Thanks." I said, letting him push me over to a table. I was defeated. Now I had a criminal record, it was hard to get a job, but I needed one to afford the care I needed.

"Did the interview go well?" He asked, taking a sip of his coffee as he waited for me to answer.

"No." I stared at my hands that were around the takeaway cup.

"You don't have to get a job yet, I can pay for your-"

"I got myself into this mess, Jake. I'll get myself out." My eyes met his after I cut him off. "I don't want your money-"

"You might not want it, but you need it. I don't know where all your savings are, but if you won't use it, then you need my help. And that's okay. It's okay to ask for help, Max." He could spare me the lecture. One he had already given me three times this past month.

"I don't want to get into my savings for this. It's for emergencies-"

"This is an emergency, Max. It might not seem like it to you, but it is. You can't get an income, you are severely injured, had a traumatic crash four weeks ago, you need to rest and recover. You shouldn't be trying to get a job."

I shook my head.

"This isn't an emergency. This is the consequences of my idiotic actions. I knew that race would end badly, and I still went into it. I had to prove I was better than them." I took another shaky breath.

"It's not your fault, it's theirs." David and Naveen. They had rammed into my car, forcing me into that crash, and ran. "And you won't need to worry about them anymore. Ever again." My eyes landed on his. A cold indifference had crept into them. He didn't direct it at me, it was at them.

"What did you do?" I asked, remembering his words from that night.

If they do anything stupid, they won't wake up tomorrow.

I am going to kill them with my bare hands, Max. I promise.

"I did nothing. Can't say the same about the person I hired. I realised doing it myself might bite me in the ass." I felt something heavy land in my stomach at his words. If their deaths were tied to him and he went to jail because of me, I would never forgive myself.

"Jake..." I couldn't say anything else.

"It will be fine, I promise." He said with a smile. A genuine smile.

"Well, if you promise, then I guess it will be." I said, taking a sip of my coffee.

"You have one interview left today. Are you up for it?" I nodded my head. I had to be. I needed to get a job, and soon.

"Yeah, I'm so ready for another rejection." I said, observing his reaction.

"If it is another rejection, maybe you should listen to what the universe is telling you."

"What might that be?"

"That you don't need to punish yourself for this." He said. I took his words into account for a moment. Maybe he was right, but that didn't change the fact I needed money to get through this. "If this isn't an emergency to you, what is?"

"My house burning down, losing a limb-"

"Max, you can't use your legs at the moment." He cut me off. I had to keep myself from snapping at him, from saying that they were still attached to me, because he had made a point. "Come on, let's go." He stood up. "Do you want me to push you?" He asked, looking around at the people on the street. I hated looking weak, like I couldn't do this myself, but he was right. It was okay to ask for help.

Besides, if he pushed me, then we would take up less space on the street.

"Yeah, that would be nice." I said, waiting for him to take hold of the handles. "How am I ever going to make all of this up to you?"

"You don't need to, but I guess if you really want, you can start by carrying my coffee for me." I held up my hand to hold his coffee in.

"Great, reduced to a glorified cup holder. Just what I wanted to achieve in my life." I joked as he pushed me along the crowded street.

"No, you're a pretty cup holder. Do you realise how rare that makes you?"