Page 40 of Hurt

Willow barked a laugh. “Not a chance.”

9

I’M NOT ENOUGH, BUT I STILL STAY

Willow leaned back on the wall and surveyed her kingdom.

Kingdom might be too strong a word for the shitty bar she called home, but it was hers. Tonight was especially boisterous. There was some Country Western concert in town, and every single one of those cars had to take the long lonely highway to get home. A good many of them decided they wanted to keep the party going.

Most of them had no idea what The Sunspot really was. To them, it was just another dive bar. One that was considerably cleaner and didn’t reek of cigarette smoke—thanks to Molly’s no smoking inside policy. She may have hung up her stethoscope for an account book and a baseball bat, but old habits die hard. If someone so much as lifted a cigarette to their mouth, she would rain holy hellfire down upon them in the most spectacular verbal barrage Willow had ever seen. The woman even had a PowerPoint. She was not shy about whipping out.

Evan was dancing to Elton Michael, and the crowd was rowdy. He wasn’t so much a dancer as a strutter, but it didn’t matter. He captivated and entertained. That was enough for this crowd.

Noah was working through his second shift as a busser. With a ratty, stained apron tied around his waist, he didn’t look anything like a kid who had grown up richer than God. But he hadn’t stopped smiling. His baby face and soft features had instantly endeared him to everyone who worked there. Sid especially had been hovering around him when he ventured into the more populated areas of the bar.

He didn’t need to. The first customer who got a little rowdy had encountered the personification of the Elliotts’ pride and the Becketts’ stubbornness. Noah had a dirty spoon pressed to the guy’s eye before Sid had the chance to even move.

“Remove your hand, or I’m going to show you what enucleation means, fuckstick.”

The man blinked in a drunken haze and only managed to ask ‘what’ before Sid stepped in and escorted the man to the parking lot.

Kurt had raised an eyebrow at the kid. He didn’t say anything, but Willow knew he was proud. Whether he was proud of his hefty vocabulary or the way he threatened the guy, she wasn’t sure.

Noah arrived, and nothing had been the same. Kurt was different. Less transparent. Before, it had seemed like he had one foot in the door and one foot out. He would stare off into the distance a lot and cry out in his sleep. The nightmares would drench him and sweat, and when he woke up with a cry, Willow would pretend it didn’t wake her too. But since Noah’s arrival, he had been sleeping through the night. She couldn’t say that Kurt was whole, not really, but he was more engaged. More present. Last night he had slept through the night, and Willow had not seen him touch a drop of liquor since Noah’s arrival.

Willow wasn’t sure how to process that. She always knew that Kurt loved his nephew. That much was obvious. What she never understood was why he sent him away. Sure, the education was better. The homes were bigger, fancier. But how could that replace the people he had grown up with?

It was the first time Willow had asked him something, and Kurt refused to answer.

All their lives, they had been thick as thieves. Closer than anyone. It didn’t matter that their parents were different. They were siblings. Sending Noah away was the first time Kurt had shut her out.

Maybe bringing him back could be the way Kurt let her back in.

The music changed, and it was Opal’s turn to dance. Willow had already done a few dances this evening. She enjoyed the way Noah recoiled in horror at his aunt’s dancing. For the rest of the night, he kept his eyes on the floor every time he heard Willow’s music start up.

Willow watched Noah heft a shallow bucket full of dirty glasses to the back when the front door opened, and Roland walked in. Cool eyes took in the bar, scanning the crowd before they landed on Willow. The man was crisp and clean. His suit perfect and wrinkle-free. The light colors should have washed out against his fair complexion, but they only offset the darkness of his hair.

Willow smiled at him. Their eyes met, and Roland nodded almost imperceptibly before turning and looking toward the stage. His demeanor was immediately cold, and Willow shuddered at his expression.

His minion scurried around him, sending Willow a polite smile before finding his way to his usual spot at the bar.

Elijah had been nicer to her than the man who had kissed her back. Twice.

That gaping loneliness Willow constantly struggled against opened its maws and threatened to suck her in. Her heart beat against the ice penetrating her chest. The last time they met, Roland had been clutching her to his chest, asking for more kisses. There was no way she imagined that look of longing in those honest eyes.

Was there?

Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she cast her hand out, plucking a drink from someone’s table and throwing it back. Vodka mixed with something god awfully sweet hit her tongue, and she cringed. The burn melted some of the cold she had been feeling and ignited a fire.

Who the fuck was he?

Willow wasn’t going to be ignored, and she certainly wasn’t going to sit around pining after a guy who wouldn’t even give her a second glance. The bastard waswatchingOpal dance. With those same eyes that had looked down at Willow with want, he was watching someone else dance.

Fine. Willow refused to be pathetic. If Roland wanted someone else, then he should go and get them.

The guy whose drink Willow had just stolen was staring up at her.

“Let me make it up to you,” Willow said coyly.