Page 113 of From West, With Regret

“I needed it,” Heath spews, spit spraying from his lips. “I needed it to survive, and my connections at the bank assured me they wouldn’t reveal it was me.”

When my mother doesn’t respond to Heath’s confession, his bloodshot eyes search the room before landing on me. I shudder when Heath tips his head back as another sinister, bitter laugh escapes him. Swaying some more, he presses his hand to his chest and tips his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, his mouth wide open. Then he lurches forward, moving around the last table separating us.

From the corners of my eyes, I see Alden and a security guard growing closer. Even if they were to jump in and intervene, though, Heath would still get to me first.

With his shoulders slumped, my brother looks up at me with hooded eyes. “Do you know what I find ironic about this whole situation,brother?” His mouth curls, his tongue laced with poison.

“What is that, Heath?” I ask, sniffing. Whiskey and blood. It’s all I can smell and taste.

“That even as I’m finally revealing the truth to an entire room of people about how you’ve always tried to steal what’s mine, like the dirty little thief you are, you still come out looking like the hero.”

“I’m not a hero, Heath.” A cold drop of blood slides down the length of my jaw to my neck. “You’re just the fucking coward who felt the need to beat his wife to make himself look like an even bigger asshole. I didn’t have to do a fucking thing.”

“Fuck you.” Heath growls, lunging for me.

I’ve barely taken a painstaking breath when his arms wrap around me again. He slams me onto the table. Shrieks and cries from the crowd vibrate across the bar as the force he’s used on me snaps the fragile table in half. Splinters and shards of wood dig into my back. The lightheaded feeling expands. Flickers of black dots pepper the edges of my vision. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to inhale a breath, starving for oxygen.

When I manage to crack my eyes open, I see Heath on top of me, rearing his fist back. He tries to hit me but fails, his fist missing and slipping past my shoulder. I take the opportunity to fist his shirt and pull myself up, then I slam my head to his, forcing him back.

I grit my teeth through the pain, the echoing agony expanding in my brain. It feels like it’s going to explode. More blood spills down the side of my head, and I can feel my hair sticking to my skin.

But I don’t stop. Once I pull myself to a half stand, I grab Heath by the shirt and hit him again. Anger overtakes me, and I think of all the times he treated me like shit growing up. I think about what London told me that first day, the truth about her marriage to Heath. How he’d abuse her in every way he could.

I hit Heath again, forcing him to his knees in front of me.His eyes roll back before his head falls forward, his neck going limp, unable to hold it up anymore. Blood drips from his face, spilling into his lap. With what little strength I have left, I wrap my hand around his arm and lift him up, thrusting him toward the front door. The crowd clears out around him.

He stumbles back as Alden and the security guard quickly grab hold of him.

“Get out!” I shout. The bitter, metallic taste of blood is impossibly stronger. One of my eyes is already swelling shut, but my vision of my brother is still clear. “Get the fuck out.”

He resists the security guard and Alden’s hold, but they don’t let up.

“Fuck you! You can’t order me to do shit.” Heath shouts, still trying to jerk away from Alden.

I have half a mind to call the police and turn him in for faking his own death. But when I see Glenna standing on the edges of the crowd, tears streaming down her face, something inside me cracks. Her shoulders are wracking with sobs. All Glenna ever wanted was two boys. Two boys to love, and while Heath doesn’t deserve her, he’s still her son. He’s her flesh and blood. I’m thankful for the gift of a stable life she was able to give me, and while I’ve always thought of her as my own mother, that’s one fact I’ve never been able to understand. A fact I’ve always been envious of.

Glenna looks at Heath the way I’d always wished my own mother would have been able to look at me.

Her obvious heartbreak causes me to make a split-second decision—one I’m not certain Heath deserves—because all I want to do is move on. To live my life with London, hoping my brother will take his second chance and slip back into the shadows. We can each live our own lives without interfering with the other.

“It’s over Heath,” I tell him, sticking out my chin. I clutchonto my side, another sharp pain like a dagger to the ribs. “Leave before I come to my senses and turn you in.”

“Fuck you.” He huffs, still defiant. I know part of his stubbornness is from how drunk he is, but not all of it. It’s in Heath’s nature not to let go and admit defeat. “Always so disgustingly soft. Something that will always be your downfall.”

I nod my head toward Alden, silently telling him to take Heath outside. He nods in acknowledgement.

Walking backward, they lead Heath through the front door and don’t let go until they’ve reached the sidewalk, which is still crowded, filled with the line of guests waiting to gain entry. All of them have now turned their attention to the scene that’s continuing to play on outside.

“I’ll be back for her,” Heath says, staring blankly at me before shifting his attention to London beside me. He narrows his eyes, wiping the back of his hand under his bleeding nose. “I’ll be back for you, my sweet little cunt.”

She slips her hand in mine, and only then do Heath’s bloodshot eyes fall.

The corner of his mouth tilts as he continues walking backward. The streets of New York City are alive. Bright neon lights flash, and traffic whizzes by, everyone out there oblivious to what’s happening.

Heath continues stepping back, his foot wobbling on the edge of the curb. He slips between two parked cars, stumbling onto the street.

London’s hand falls away from mine as my blood grows cold.

“Heath.” Her voice is unsteady. “Heath, stop.”

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