Page 119 of Hurt

Noah was everything.

Everything Elijah couldn’t have.

With monumental effort, he turned his head away. There was a painful silence, and he could feel Noah’s eyes on the back of his head. An accusing stare that was full of confusion and hurt rather than anger.

There was a sharp intake of air—pain being turned into indignation rather than oxygen into carbon dioxide.

“Hey, Swizzlestick.” Jamie’s voice shattered the tension between them as he kicked open the door to the roof. “I’ve got Cosmic Brownies and beer. Who’s in?”

Elijah cleared his throat. “Jamie, we’re underage.”

“Gasp,” Jamie scoffed while rolling his eyes. “Is it…illegal? Gosh. I wouldn’t want to break any laws, Elijah ‘I’ve stabbed more people than a frat boy at a Viagra convention,’ Weaver.”

“I’ll take one,” Noah said from behind Elijah.

“Why are you still here?” Jamie asked with hands on his hips.

“I’m hiding from my uncle.”

“Which one? You have so many.”

Noah walked over to Jamie and stuck his hand in the plastic bag he had hanging from his wrist. Pulling a beer out, he popped the top. “The murdery one.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. They all fit that description.”

“Yeah.” Noah looked over his shoulder at Elijah. “It’s in our blood.”

21

I WANNA BE THAT GUY, I WANNA KISS YOUR EYES

Roland’s kitchen was a chef’s dream. Fully loaded with all the bells and whistles, the modern kitchen was all sleek lines and stainless steel. Minimalistic in style with a light and dark color scheme, the kitchen screamed cooking prowess.

Beyond the blender and fridge, the kitchen was largely unused. The fancy cookery was wasted on a bachelor like Roland. He had no interest in cooking or in eating. Food was a life-sustaining force for him—it didn’t matter what it tasted like as long as it got the job done. His diet mostly consisted of a premade smoothie mix and a protein bar.

Which was why Willow was so determined to cook him a meal. Boiling water spilled out of the pot and hissed as it hit the electric burner. Steam filled the kitchen while Willow glared at the recipe she had printed out. Sweat prickled her skin, and she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

Cooking really shouldn’t be this hard, she reasoned. She put everything in the pot like the recipe said, so why wasn’t it turning out right? She debated calling Kurt, but he was more likely to mock her than actually help.

They had seen each other regularly over the past few days. Their current favorite activity was taking a walk through the Weaver Syndicates estate. Kurt was largely healed, but his injuries flared up after long periods of activity, so they would find good places to stop and chat. They rarely talked about anything serious. The siblings had their fill of intensity over the last few years. It was nice to relax and talk about the most ridiculous things.

Their last topic of conversation was who would win in a direct duel, a snake or a lizard?

“Snakes eat lizards,” Willow had pointed out.

“Yeah, but lizards have hands.”

“But they don’t have opposable thumbs!”

“Komodo dragons have claws!”

Which then delved into a conversation as to whether Komodo Dragons were actually lizards and where the line was. It was nostalgic, bringing Willow back to the days when they were sprawled out in the back of a school bus doing everything they could to avoid thinking about going home. Back then, nothing mattered except keeping out of arms reach of Mrs. Beckett and taking any opportunity they could to play music together.

Kurt was different back then. Still more likely to shove his foot up your ass than show any form of affection, but he was freer. Lighter and less haunted. His crooked smile was more of a smirk, and sometimes, when he laughed, the points of his canines showed. Willow knew that his smile was genuine when one dimple appeared on her brother’s left cheek.

These days, if she squinted, she could see the shapings of that Kurt coming back. Not here yet, and definitely nowhere close, but every now and then, he showed himself. Like a blur out of the corner of her eye, if she turned to look, it was gone, but she knew it was there.

Willow stirred the pasta and inhaled the steam. It filled her lungs, and she liked the heavy heat in her chest.