Page 106 of Hurt

He turned his back on Noah, intending to return to the couch. Anger exploded in Noah’s chest, and he grabbed Elijah’s arm, kicking his ankle out from under him and tumbling to the ground with him. Their combined body weight made an echoing thudding sound, and no doubt pissed off the downstairs neighbor.

“Don’t treat me like a child!” Noah hissed as he straddled Elijah and pinned his arms above his head.

Elijah’s normally docile eyes blazed with anger. In a quick move, he managed to overpower Noah and reverse them. Shoving Noah’s hands by his sides, he leaned down until their faces were inches from each other.

“You can’t even handle me. What makes you think you could handle someone who really wants to hurt you?”

Noah struggled against Elijah, but his grip was like iron. How could so much power come from such a slender body? There was a sharpness in his face, a righteous anger that Noah had never seen on Elijah before.

And the worst part was that he was right.

Noah was useless. He couldn’t save Kurt. He couldn’t even save himself. For years he had allowed himself to be locked down and maneuvered like a chess piece—told where he could go and who he could talk to. Even what he ate was highly regulated. Nothing in his life was in his control. Any idea of retribution was absurd.

It was no wonder Kurt had sent him away and kept him in the dark. Noah was a spoiled rich kid with nothing.

Ungrateful brat. That’s what they called him. Nothing had changed.

His throat tightened with emotion, and he cursed himself for being such an easy crier. Tears came easy, and he couldn’t even block his face. Turning his head, he tried to hide his watery eyes from Elijah.

“…are you crying?”

“No! Get off me!” Noah spat as he finally jerked a hand free and swiped at his eyes.

Elijah’s grip softened, but Noah didn’t want to see the look on his face.

“Let me go!”

Hesitant fingers brushed at the tears gathering in his eyelashes. Elijah wiped them free and let his fingers linger on Noah’s cheekbones.

“I can’t,” Elijah whispered so softly that Noah almost didn’t catch it.

They stared at each other for a moment before Elijah leaned back so Noah could sit up and face him.

“It’s not that I think you can’t, Noah. I just…” He flexed his hands between them, looking down at his palms as if he could see something Noah couldn’t. “Once you make that decision, step down that path, then there’s no looking back. You will be permanently stained for life. Ruined. Do you understand? I can’t do that to you.”

Noah didn’t see anything on those hands. When he looked at Elijah, all he saw was a friend. Someone who wanted him. Someone who cared enough to see the real Noah, and not just the White Sand Mesa heir. The guy who comforted him when he was drunk and carried him to his apartment, so he didn’t hurt his feet.

“I don’t understand,” Noah said as he grabbed the two hands Elijah had been holding between them. Lifting them up, he interlaced their fingers, just like they did that night sitting outside The Sunspot.

“Youthink these are the hands of a killer? To me, these are the hands that held mine when I needed it most. The hands that carried me on your back when I was stupid and forgot shoes. The hands that belong to the man who thinks it’s still cool to kiss people’s fingers and who gives them the clothes off their back. Elijah, you are not stained. Not to me.”

Elijah’s lips were parted, and he was breathing shallowly. His eyes kept glancing from their joined hands to Noah’s mouth and then his eyes. There was an expectant sort of tension, a pull that felt like Elijah’s gravitational force was yanking Noah off his axis.

The older man swallowed and followed the pull, getting so close that intermingled breaths ghosted across their skin.

“Ew, gross.” Jamie slammed the front door and dropped a large duffle bag on the floor. “Get a room.” He strode off toward the back of the apartment.

Noah watched him. “Was he covered in blood?”

“Blood or ketchup. It’s a fifty-fifty chance with him,” Elijah answered shakily.

Suddenly shy, their hands dropped, and the two men scrambled to their feet. Mumbled excuses spilled from their lips as they went their separate directions.

Noah saw Elijah’s knife under the TV stand. It had been dropped in the scuffle and forgotten. Grabbing it, he held the handle in his palm and felt the residual heat from Elijah’s hand.

19

THE TABLES TURN, NOW IT’S TIME TO SURVIVE