Page 53 of Hurt

Kurt adjusted his stance and saw Roland look up. His eyes seemed to widen fractionally as Willow came down the stairs.

His sister had decided on a simple wide-necked T-shirt and skinny jeans. Emphasis on the skinny.

“Why is she showing so much ankle?” Kurt muttered as he watched his sister acting coy.

Roland opened the passenger side door and held it for Willow to get in. At least he was a gentleman.

“You think she’s going to be labeled a harlot for showing too much ankle? Scandalous,” Noah said from behind Kurt.

“No! I just think it looks like she borrowed a pair of your jeans. Shorty.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Noah deadpanned. “Going after someone’s height is the lowest form of comedy.”

Kurt grinned as he turned away from the window. “Get it? Lowest?”

Noah stared at him with a rag in his hand. “Did you just make a joke?”

Snatching the rag, he walked around the bar and began wiping down some glasses that didn’t need to be wiped down.

Noah didn’t press it, but he kept smiling at his uncle. Elijah had retreated from the bar to take a seat with Sid at one of the tables. Besides their quiet chatter, the bar was relatively empty.

“Hey, I’m going to run to the store,” Noah said as he pocketed a long list Molly had given him. “She’s letting me take her new car.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Kurt nodded. “Be careful.”

“Do you want to come with me?” Noah asked hopefully, resting his elbows on the bar. “I’ll let you buy us ice cream.”

“Tempting,” Kurt said. “But no.”

“You need to get out more often,” Noah bemoaned. “It’s not healthy to be this introverted. Go out and meet some people. Go on a date or something.”

Noah dodged the wet rag his uncle flung at him. Instead of waiting for an answer, he walked over to Sid and Elijah. They chatted for a few moments before Noah and Elijah departed.

Kurt felt strangely comforted to see the assassin going with his nephew. Elijah would make sure he stayed in Weaver territory. Just the sight of the diminutive Weaver underling would keep any ambitious thugs away. His reputation was solid. Everyone knew about the Weaver orphans. It should probably worry Kurt that he felt better that his nephew was in the presence of an assassin, but that was at the bottom of the list of things he was worried about.

He stared at the bar and tried not to think about what Noah had said.

Go on a date.

The idea would be hilarious if it wasn’t so sad. Kurt on a date? Right. Between talking about his parents dying and how he made money in underground fight clubs, he would regale them with how he had never been kissed. Or held hands. Those were the kind of things that normal people did.

Kurt didn’t even know if he knew how to love.

He had never been intimate with anyone. Did his heart even know how to? He didn’t think so. I had been broken beyond repair. Any love it might feel leaked out the cracks. No one had ever touched him lovingly—he didn’t even know if his body would respond to it. How could someone who had only known pain understand what it felt like to be loved?

No, Kurt had all notions of dates and love beat out of him shortly after his parents died. He figured out he could take a beating in the fights. Fists pounded down on him, and pain exploded through his body, but somehow, he could still fight on. Even with sweat in his eyes and blood in his mouth, he could still throw a punch. While others were passing out, Kurt was shaking unconsciousness off and entering another fight. He didn’t remember most of them. He didn’t want to.

The club owner would drag his battered and bloody body into the alley, toss a wad of cash at him, and eventually, he would be able to find his way home. Somewhere along the way, he would stop and clean himself up. He didn’t want to scare Noah or alarm Willow. Not when she was still finishing school and prepping for college.

It was all fine. Until Ezra found him. The Vegas often came to bet on the fights. Kurt didn’t really pay attention to the crowd, but he wished he would have. He might have noticed the leer on the man’s face. The way he got excited when he saw Kurt take the pain and come back for more.

Kurt wasn’t stupid enough to think that Ezra wanted him for his face or body. The only attraction a sadist like Ezra had was in Kurt’s ability to handle pain. For someone who got off causing pain, Kurt was the golden egg.

He also knew Kurt couldn’t say no.

Ezra had found him after the fight. He took one look at Kurt’s battered face—lip split and eye swollen shut—and dragged him into his car.

He could still remember the way the door handle felt digging into his sore face as Ezra bent him over. Or the way Ezra laughed when he cried and told him he was a virgin.