Page 148 of Shrapnel

“Me,” Noah muttered, gesturing to himself. “I literally sucked so bad only death could fix it.”

Kurt’s eyes darkened. “That’s not true.”

“Oh? How else would you describe it?” Maybe it was the pain meds, or maybe he was just tired. But Noah’s words came unchecked. “Wait, sorry. I forgot. Everything isfine.”

His uncle sucked on his teeth and leaned forward, elbows on his knees and eyes downcast. He looked like Noah had just kicked him. Maybe he had.

“You’re right,” Kurt finally said. “I fucked up with you.”

“That’s not what I said—”

“That’s what I heard,” Kurt snapped. “And you’re right. I-I made so many mistakes. I never should have sent you away.”

It was the first time Kurt said he regretted sending Noah away. Noah always just assumed he didn’t. At the time it had seemed like the best choice for them. Noah knew that. But it didn’t change the fact that it hurt.

“I never meant to alienate you. Or make you feel like you weren’t part of our family. Hell,” he shook his head. “You’re Hazel’s son, and sometimes I look at you and I see her and it’s like…a punch to the gut. Because she was the one who kept us all together. She was the one who picked up all the pieces, turned a house into a home. Without her I lost…I lost a part of myself.”

Noah didn’t think his uncle had ever said his mother’s name. Not like this. Not without a tinge of bitterness. Just now he said it with the softest of smiles, his lips rolling over the syllables like they were cotton candy—sweet and effusive.

“The truth is, I don’t know how to live. Letting people in is difficult when there’s nowhere to go. I’m shallow. Most days I don’t know how to love myself. But I have never, not for a second, stopped loving you.”

Kurt looked at him. The small scars streaking across his face made him look tougher than he was.

“If there’s a whole part of my soul, it’s entirely made up of you. I think I…I thought by keeping you at a distance I was somehow saving you. Or saving face. I never wanted you to see me broken. It’s not easy admitting to the kid who used to ask you to watch baking shows with him that he’s stronger than you.”

Noah broke. “I’m not…”

“You are,” Kurt reached forward and took Noah’s hand for the first time. His calloused fingers tickled his palm. “You made choices I never could. You stayed strong in the face of all this shit, and you didn’t let it destroy you. Your mother would be so, so proud of you.”

Kurt smiled wetly. “I’m proud of you.”

He didn’t know what to say. Noah stared down at their joined hands and struggled to comprehend what Kurt said. He knew his uncle had lived through hell. Noah didn’t even know the extent of his suffering, and to hear him say that…Noah didn’t know how badly he needed to hear it. How desperate he was for his uncle to see him. To love him.

“I’m proud of you, too,” Noah gasped. “Mom would be proud of us both.”

Noah started crying and Kurt wiped his tears away. He stroked Noah’s hair in the way he used to do when he came home from the fights, and he heard Noah having a nightmare. Even though Kurt had just come home from a waking nightmare, he would stay until Noah quieted.

“Let’s start over,” Kurt suggested. “I think we’ve earned it.”

Noah sniffed. “I don’t know how. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Well.” Kurt swiped at his own eyes gruffly. “I’ve got this Craftsman I’ve been working on. Could use another pair of hands if you’re up for it.”

He could have sworn that he knew his uncle better than anyone in the world. That Kurt was as unchanging as a statue and as stubborn as the sea. But he was here, exposing his vulnerable side to the world, something Noah thought he was incapable of. He was doing it for Noah. For their future.

Noah touched the thickened scar on Kurt’s wrists. “Yeah, I could do that.”

27

Honey, You Don’t Know What’s Coming for You

Owen scrapedhis nail across the engraving. It was faded. Years of sweaty palms and rubbing up against leather holsters had obscured the word. He smiled bitterly as he pictured a young Jamie working on it. He’d never seen a picture of him, but he imagined him with his tongue between teeth and short hair sticking up in every direction as he lovingly scraped the words into the barrel of the gun.

Chicken Nugget.

It was so absurd. But it made Owen’s heart trip behind his ribs, made his eyes heat up, and he had to shake the emotion off like a dog. He promised himself he would keep it together. There was nothing to cry for. As far as he was concerned, Jamie was on a mission. He would be home soon, with more scars and a story or two. Owen would make him sit on the couch and talk to him all about it.

And he’d start taking more photos. Jamie didn’t have a single photo of himself from his younger years. It wasn’t until around sixteen that he had started appearing in some photos with Elijah. But even those were rare.