I saw it clear as day on his face.

His shock.

His pain.

His… regret.

Heath broke my heart in that moment.

Heath

I fucked up.

Twelve

Heath

I got out of there faster than a bullet.

No words were needed to be said. The fuck could I say anyway? “Sorry for fucking you”? Somehow I didn’t think that would cut it.

Guilt was a fuck of a thing, wasn’t it? It was the perfect way to get into someone’s head and fuck up their matter. What I did… Oh, fuck.

This was going to cost me my brother.

And her.

I was going to lose two of the most important people in my life because of my moment of weakness. None of this would have happened had I just fucked the bar girl and stayed away the whole night.

I couldn’t do it, though. Living with Allie was a disaster right from the making. She made me realize I wanted things I didn’t even know I wanted. Being around her, craving her, hungering for the taste of her, it changed everything. I wanted some goddamn meaning in my life. I wanted to settle down. Wanted to have a girl as incredible as her by my side. Someone soft and real. A kind girl who looked at the ugly world and still clung to the belief there was beauty there somehow.

How the hell was I going to fix this?

I’d taken my keys and clothes and stormed out of the building, aiming to go as far away as possible. I acted like a complete fucking douchebag; those kinds of guys that took what they wanted and ran off into the sunset. Probably left her behind feeling like shit, and I’d have turned back just to make her feel better had I not been such a goddamn pussy.

I drove aimlessly, lost in thought, trying to figure out a way to numb the pain because it was tormenting the shit out of me. I didn’t want to fucking think about this.

Eventually, I returned to the bar and drank my sorrows away. I smashed shot after shot. I waited for the buzz. For my brain to start clouding. But nothing came. I felt rotten.

“You look like shit,” a familiar voice said in my ear.

I didn’t look at Tru as she slid in the stool beside me. I could smell the flower-scented shit I used to love on her. Now it just made me sick.

“Need to talk about it?” she proceeded to ask.

“No,” I answered.

“It’s that girl, isn’t it? Ever since she showed up, you’ve changed. I see it in you. You’ve gone all soft, Heath –”

“Look, I don’t give a fuck, alright?” I cut in, glaring at her. “Leave me alone.”

She ignored what I said and continued. “What is it about her? Because I don’t see it. I mean, I see the way you act toward her. I see it in the way you look at her. But I can’t find it. She’s plain. She’s timid. She’s not sexy or outgoing –”

“She’s everything you’re not,” I interrupted, giving her another cold stare.

“And that’s a good thing?”

I thought about her question for a moment. It didn’t really need thinking. I nodded and motioned to the bartender for another shot as I gritted out, “It’s the best fucking thing I could ever ask for.”

She froze. She looked pained for a moment before that wicked edge of hers took over. She leaned into me, pushing her tits against my arm as she snarled, “There’s no way you guys fuck the way we did. Hmm? I let you do whatever you wanted to me. Gave you everything you asked for –”

“Tru,” I said, letting out a hard laugh, “you were no different to the other girls I’ve taken before. There was nothing between us. I didn’t look at you when we were together. You can suck a person’s cock like a vacuum, but that don’t mean shit. You never made my pulse race. Never made my heart tighten. Never made me feel anything. So stop, okay? You’re digging and it’s all for nothing.”

Her eyes watered, and maybe the alcohol had made me cruel because I seriously didn’t care for it. She pushed away from me and took off. Finally. I tossed back a few more shots and watched the time pass by.

Could things return to normal? More importantly, would I let it?

Guilt.

Guilt.

Guilt.

“You’ve been served,” said another voice.

Fuck! Did I look like I was sociable tonight? I slammed my hand down on the bar and growled out, “I’m not in the fucking mood tonight for talking. Fuck off.”

“Yeah, well neither am I,” retorted the voice.

I looked up and to find Ricardo. Fucker looked the same as last time.

“What do you want?” I asked, not masking my anger. “You going to grace me with some info about my brother? Or are you going to stand around and be ominous as fuck again?”

He smirked at me, not at all fussed by my attitude. “You’ve been served,” he repeated before setting a piece of paper beside my shot glass. “Your brother’s debt is on you. Fifty big ones.”

“I’m hoping you mean fifty fucking dollars.”

“I’m talking in the thousands, man.”

“I don’t have that kind of money on me.”

He chuckled, deliberately pushing my buttons as he replied, “You’re a fighter. Make some money. Just because I like you and it really isn’t your fault for any of this shit, your first payment is fifteen. Take it to this address next Sunday.”

I glanced at the address and clenched my jaw. “You’re asking me to give you money I don’t have. It’s not going to happen.”

He looked unbothered by my words. Maybe he was used to hearing them come out of the mouths of all the others whose pockets he bled dry. His cockiness told me he always got what he wanted.

He glanced around the bar, looking calm and casual as he continued to speak to me. “Lawson, don’t be a fucking idiot like your brother. You love that little shit. I’m sure you don’t want something to happen to little bro in jail. Heard he got himself a girl too. Heard you’re especially close to that pregnant thing.” He chuckled at the way I straightened my spine and stared darkly at him. “Don’t get angry at me. I’m just the collector. My boss gives me a job, and I do that job.”

“You’re asking me to make fifteen thousand dollars in seven days.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“How the fuck is that going to happen?”

He didn’t look bothered. “I don’t give a shit. Rob a bank, jump a few people – fuck, I don’t care. It’s none of my business how you get it.”