Page 13 of From West, With Regret

“Which part are you referring to, Mother?” I ask.

“All of it.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “And you know I hate when you call meMother.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and blow out a heavy breath. Patience. I need to give her more patience. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“That was your brother’s wife, you know.” She purses her lips as I lower my hand. “I never understood your brother’s need to keep her a secret, and I felt sympathy for her. Remember how I told you his wife experienced an accident that caused her to suffer amnesia? Can you imagine forgetting half of your life? From what Heath said, it happened the day of her fourteenth birthday. A tragedy, honestly.” My mother frowns.

I swallow the bile rising in my throat and clamp my mouth shut. I can’t look her in the eye. Dragging the toe of my shoe through the mud, I flex my fingers and nod.

“Well,” she continues, “Ifeltsorry for her, especially when I learned Heath had saved her from another incident when theyfirst met that could have ended up with the same outcome or worse.” She shakes her head in disapproval, then points behind her, toward Heath’s resting place. “But that was unforgivable what she did back there.”

“Give her a break. Her husband just died,” I try to reason, but the admission sours my tongue. I don’t need reminding that London married Heath. Even if I know the truth about their marriage and how he treated her behind closed doors.

“Right,” my mother snaps. “So, would it have been difficult for her to say a few kind words about him? Anything? This family has welcomed her with open arms.”

I frown. “I don’t necessarily agree with that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Glenna Hall has now transitioned into defense mode.

“You never even met London until today. Heath didn’t invite anyone to his wedding. He never announced he was getting married. He kept her a secret from everyone,” I say, despite knowing it won’t be of any use. Glenna Hall will forever have a soft spot for her first born. “Heath didn’t even give you the chance to open your arms to her.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons for the choices he made.”

I roll my eyes, and I can’t help laughing cynically. “Heath didn’t have reasons for shit. He was simply a dick, mother.”

Fuck, I was right. Honesty is easier than falsehoods.

Tears well in my mother’s eyes. My heart pinches with regret at what I’ve said. But she’s delusional if she thinks she and Heath welcomed London into this family with open arms.

We both stand frozen in place, the weight of our conversation settling in the dewy air between us. When I see the pain in my mother’s eyes, I know I’ve wounded her deeply. Guilt rests in my bones. I never intended to hurt her, especially on a day like today. But I guess the old saying still stands. The truth hurts.

Finally moving from her spot, she narrows the gap between us, still fisting her black dress. Disdain consumes her heated gaze, her ire aimed directly at me.

“Honestly, I wasn’t certain you’d show up today, but since you did, you could have at least tried to show up on time,” she practically hisses, as though one of the funeral goers from hundreds of feet away will overhear our conversation. “He is your brother, for God’s sake, West. Whether you like it or not.”

I purse my lips and shake my head, anger overtaking me. I can feel the veins in my neck bulging and stretching. My throat tightens as the oxygen burns its way through my lungs. I stare her directly in the eye. “He isn’t my brother. He never was.”

A tear spills over her lashes, dropping to the ground. She sizes me up, sneering in disgust as she takes me in. Her top lip curls, a look of revulsion washing over her whole expression. She clicks her tongue against the back of her teeth and narrows her gaze. “Well, I hope when the time comes for my funeral, you’ll at least have the decency to show up on time.” She takes a step back and begins to walk away. Keeping her pace, she glances over her shoulder quickly when she adds, “And maybe then you’ll finally have shaved that fucking beard.”

My nails slice into the palms of my clenched fists in my pockets, and I watch her rejoin the funeral.

Goddammit.

I remove one of my hands and run my fingers across my mouth.

Why can’t I just shut my mouth for two fucking minutes?

Even if I hated my brother, a brother I’d only known for only a few short years, I hate talking bad about him to my mother. I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut over the years, but today I seem to be failing miserably.

Glenna Hall doesn’t know the truth that, from the first day she adopted me, Heath despised me. He hated everyfiber of my being. He saw me as a threat. Someone who would one day replace his coveted position and rank in the family.

Over time, our hatred became mutual, driving a wedge between a family who had once seemed perfect without me.

Now, when I think on it, maybe there’s truth to why Heath felt threatened by me. I’m the only son left in the Hall family. Well, legally and on paper, but not in name.

Memories of half a dozen different foster homes, and the last one that nearly broke me, come barreling into my chest at full force, practically knocking me off my feet. I may have kept my birth father’s last name, but it’s the only evidence I have left of my old life.

I don’t have London. I don’t even have her memory.

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