Page 33 of Hurt

“I’m heaven on Earth, bab—ow! Oh god, he does bite!”

Kurt turned away from them. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the entire bar to help him deal with this situation.

Molly chose that moment to exit her office. Dressed in her usual flair, she strutted across the bar like it was her own personal runway.

“What’s going on?”

“I seem to have picked up a parasite,” Kurt mumbled.

Molly glanced from Kurt to Noah and then back. Something devious shifted across her face, glossed lips curving in an unnerving way.

“Hey, kid,” she called across the bar. “You know how to bus a table?”

“No.”

“Well, learn. No one bums it for free around here, and our last busboy just quit. Something about the people who come into the bar being too much for him. Don’t know what he was talking about.”

Noah grinned. “You got it, boss!”

Kurt stared at his employer. “Molly. What the fuck?”

She tossed her nowhere near naturally blonde hair over a shoulder. “What? I’m giving him a job.” She patted Kurt on the chest. “And I’m giving you a lifeline. Thank me later.”

And like she usually did, she sashayed away into the ether. Molly had a nasty habit of walking in at a bad time and making things worse. She claims that she sees a bigger picture, but Kurt was pretty sure she was just fucking with him.

Noah scooped up his bag. “I’m going to unpack and say hi to Willow.” He flipped Jamie the bird before disappearing out the front door. Kurt stared after him.

He watched the kid swagger out, swinging the door closed behind him, and felt the panic start to choke him. Noah was too close. Kurt could pretend he was safe as long as he was tucked in under White Sand Mesa gold, but now he was walking around in open territory. A duck sitting on a lake with no idea the hunters were creeping closer. Kurt couldn’t protect him. He couldn’t be everywhere.

Images flashed in front of his eyes. Ezra’s hands on Noah’s face, hands gripping his hair, and bruises stark against pale skin. Hazel’s eyes looking out at him from behind discolored skin. All the times he looked at his own reflection and saw the mangled result of Ezra’s hands superimposed onto his nephew, and it made him stagger back, hands grabbing for anything to steady him as his back hit the bar. Breathing was difficult, like someone had filled his lungs with shards of glass. His hands had to move. They gripped at his T-shirt, twisting the material between them until it stretched and threatened to tear. His lips tingled, screaming for oxygen he couldn’t give no matter how hard he tried.

“Hey.” Suddenly Jamie’s face appeared in front of his. “Why did the sperm cross the road?”

Kurt was so shocked by the abrupt appearance that he took a deep breath. His vision focused. “What?”

“Because I put on the wrong sock.”

Jamie’s grin was ridiculous. He laughed at his own joke and slapped Kurt on the shoulder. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes as he took a deep breath.

“See, that’s the problem with a panic attack. Once it starts, it just keeps building. You forget to breathe, and your body starts to panic even more. Like a bike with no brakes rolling downhill.” He took a deep breath and mimed for Kurt to do the same thing. Kurt found himself doing it.

“Know how to stop a bike rolling downhill?” Jamie didn’t wait for his answer. “You poke a stick through the spokes. It’ll send you ass over tea kettle, but at least you’re not careening downhill anymore. You got anything diet? Feeling a little puffy lately.”

Kurt watched Jamie go off in search of soda.

He was breathing again.

Three hours later, Jamie was swindling some bikers out of their money at darts. Kurt watched him with narrowed eyes. At least he wasn’t telling everyone their hypothetical second genders in the ‘Omegaverse’ anymore.

Grant stepped inside. Brushing the hair out of his eyes, he slid the sunglasses off his face and scanned the bar until he caught sight of Kurt. His smile carried all the way up to his eyes, bright and pleasant. For some reason, Kurt felt like he couldn’t look away. Even as Grant approached the bar, resting agaInst it in a way that was elegant and relaxed.

He was handsome. His Asian features blending almost seamlessly with his American. He looked more Asian than his brother—allegedly, their mother was Chinese, but it was one of those rumors no one really knew the truth about.

“Afternoon,” he said breezily.

Kurt scowled at him. “You left your crackhead unsupervised in my bar all day, and the first thing you say to me is ‘afternoon?’”

Grant blinked in surprise. He looked startled—that had not been the reaction he was expecting, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. A moment later, the surprise faded to genuine pleasure.