Page 116 of From West, With Regret

My mother’s love wasn’t that deep, but I know Glenna’s was for Heath.

“Glenna.” My chin trembles. “I’m so sorry.”

I’m not just sorry for Heath’s death. I’m sorry he lied to her, keeping his true colors hidden.

Her eyes soften, and for the first time since we met, she’s looking at me with love and kindness, no more bitterness. Only understanding. While I could also be angry at her for all she’s accused me and West of these past few months, I’m not. I only feel sympathy for a woman who has nearly lost everyone she’s ever loved and been betrayed by her first born.

“He was my son.” Her brows pull together, her eyes softening with tears.

“I know.” Opening my arms, I pull her to me. I hold her and allow her to cry into my shoulder for what feels like forever until a police officer is standing above us.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” she says, holding a notepad in her hand. “Are you the wife of the victim?”

I let go of Glenna, pull myself to a stand. “I was.”

The police officer’s brows knit before she tips her head back. “May I speak with you about what happened here?”

I nod once, then turn back to look down at Glenna.

She reaches up and grabs my hand, shifting her attention tothe back of the ambulance before she turns back to me and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Take care of my son.”

My chest warms, despite the cold, darkness of tonight. I squeeze Glenna’s hand back. “Always.”

After she lets me go, I follow the police officer over to her vehicle parked along the curb. We pass the ambulance, where West was taken to moments earlier. The back doors are open, and there are at least two paramedics hooking him up to various machines. They’ve removed his suit jacket and tie, leaving his button-down shirt open, revealing his tattooed chest. One of the paramedics is hunched over, examining his side. Torrential waves of emotion fill me.

My love for West.

The betrayal of Heath faking his own death.

Him on a mission to kill both of us.

My memories coming back to me after all these years.

Everything crashes into me as I follow the policewoman and take in the scene outside of The Veiled Door.

The bus that killed Heath is in the middle of the lane, and the crowd surrounding it has dispersed. Police caution tape now blocks off its perimeter, preventing onlookers from getting too close. A chill slinks down my spine from the memory of Heath’s hand around my neck, promising me I would forever be his.

Then I remember the strength in my voice when I fought back and spoke my truth without any fear.

Taking in a deep breath, I look away from the evolving crime scene and toward the still-open ambulance to find West’s kind, blue eyes staring directly at me. A familiar sense of calm wraps around me, the same as it was the day I walked into The Veiled Door for the very first time. When West was behind the bar. I may not have had my memory then, but I think, looking back on it now, I loved him at first sight.

When the ambulance doors shut, and Iturn to the policewoman, with her pen poised to take my statement, I decide to leave my past behind.

This time, for good.

THIRTY-THREE

WEST

Five Days Later

A fractured skull, four broken ribs, and a splintered tibia.

Apparently, I hit every corner and sharp edge of the stairs on my way down, and my body paid the price for it. The doctors said they wouldn’t normally keep me in the hospital this long, but considering all three injuries together, they thought it would be best to observe me for a few days before discharging me.

The physical injuries are nothing compared to the mental, though.

Watching your brother die before your very eyes is traumatic, even if you had hated each other.