The Heart Never Forgets

Chapter-20

The next day, Billy had been stuck in a long, pointless conversation with Lola in the tavern—too long. The kind of conversation that wasn’t really about anything, but still managed to leave a sour taste in the air. Lola finally left. Work pulled her away, and the tavern kept breathing without her.

Billy didn’t move right away. He stayed seated, staring into his drink like the liquid could explain what he was feeling. His jaw was tight. His eyes kept flicking toward the door, like he expected someone—anyone—to come in at the worst possible moment.

Then Ethan pushed his way inside.

The tavern was loud—plates clattered, silverware rang, people talked too close to each other. But when Ethan stepped in, the noise seemed to drop a layer, as if even the room could sense trouble.

Billy saw him take one breath, then another—like he was trying to control himself.

Ethan didn’t scan the room. He looked straight toward Billy.

They sat across from each other at a small corner table. Two men refusing to be polite. Ethan’s hands stayed clenched, resting just out of reach of each other, as if the table were the only thing holding them back. For a moment, neither spoke. The tension stretched so thin it almost snapped—resentment, betrayal, the kind of anger that had been boiling for days and finally ran out of patience.

Finally, Ethan leaned forward, voice low and sharp enough to cut.

“Why did you do it, Billy?”

Billy didn’t look surprised. He looked offended. Like Ethan’s question was too late.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you take those pictures of Della and me?”

Billy’s mouth twitched—guilt fighting with pride, fear disguised as defiance.

“You really want to pretend you don’t know?” Billy muttered. He swallowed, then spoke louder, trying to put weight behind his words. “You think I don’t know what you two did?”

Ethan’s face hardened.

“That’s not an answer,” Ethan said.

Billy raised his drink halfway, like he might toast himself. “You know what’s funny? You act like Della chose you freely. Like it wasn’t all… convenient.”

Ethan pushed back from the table so hard the chair scraped. Heads turned. People pretended not to watch, but everyone watched.

“You knew Della loved me,” Ethan said, voice rising. “You knew. And you still did it. You still took those—”

His voice broke into a dangerous hiss. “—and you used it to poison the one good thing in my life. Selfish!!”

Billy stood up fast, his chair tipping back. “Selfish?” he snapped. “Selfish?!”

He stepped closer, eyes bright with anger that didn’t shake.

“You’re the one who gets everything,” Billy said. “The charm. The looks. The charisma. The girl. The money. People like you just… get handed life.”

Ethan didn’t blink. “That’s your excuse?”

“It was my last straw,” Billy said. “I’ve been living in your shadow for years. And you know what? I was sick of being the guy people forget.”

Ethan’s fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening.

“So you decided to destroy me,” Ethan said, calm in the worst way. “You decided to tear up my life because you couldn’t stand not being first.”

Billy’s laugh was bitter. “First? Ethan, please. You don’t even see what you are. You walk around like you’re untouchable. Like nobody can ever expose you.”

Ethan’s throat tightened. “Expose me?”

Billy leaned in until the air between them felt like a match about to strike.

“You had secret meetings,” he said. “You had your little places where nobody could see. And Lukas—”

He paused, almost savoring the words.

“—Lukas knew exactly what to do.”

Ethan’s expression turned colder. “You’re saying his name like you helped him.”

Billy’s smile vanished. “I did more than you think.”

Ethan moved.

It wasn’t a sudden burst like a movie fight. It was a controlled threat finally snapping into motion. Ethan grabbed the front of Billy’s shirt and slammed him back against the table.

The drinks jumped. Cups rattled. Someone gasped.

Billy swung—wild. Ethan caught it halfway, twisted his wrist, and drove Billy backward into the bench.

They collided, shoulders and rage and hate. No strategy. Just the need to hurt the other first, deeper, harder.

Chairs toppled.

A dish shattered somewhere to the side. The room became a storm—shouts, footsteps, people trying to pull back without getting caught in the mess. Ethan’s hands were on Billy again, hauling him up, then dropping him like Billy weighed nothing.

Billy coughed, then came back swinging with a mean desperation.

Ethan got a hit in—clean—and Billy staggered, eyes wild. Then Billy tried to grab Ethan’s arm—like he could yank the truth out of him by force. Ethan shoved him away, and Billy hit the floor hard. They were still moving—still fighting—when Ethan finally managed to pin Billy down. Ethan straddled him, chest rising fast, jaw tight as if it might split. One hand grabbed Billy’s throat and squeezed just enough to make breathing feel like a choice.

Billy’s eyes bulged. His hands scrabbled at Ethan’s wrist, useless.

Ethan leaned close, voice dangerously quiet.

“You thought you could break her,” he said. “And you thought I’d just… live with it?”

Billy wheezed. “You—don’t—understand—”

“I understand plenty,” Ethan growled.

Billy’s grin didn’t just sharpen—it settled, like he’d finally found the exact c***k in Ethan he’d been hunting.

“You know what the worst part is?” Billy said, voice low enough that it sounded private, even in the chaos around them.

“You still think Della chose you.”

Ethan’s hands curled at his sides. His eyes stayed locked on Billy, but something in his face started to go distant—like his thoughts were slipping past the words.

Billy leaned forward, slowly. Cruelly patient.

“Look at you,” he murmured.

“You didn’t see it because you didn’t want to. You think she was hurting. You think she was waiting.”

Billy’s gaze flicked once toward Ethan’s chest, toward the place where hope liked to live.

“She was passing time,” Billy said. “That’s what you were—company. Something warm and easy when she got bored. Someone to lean on while she decided what came next.”

Ethan swallowed. The sound was sharp in his throat.

Billy kept going, like he was turning a key.

“And when you finally got it in your head that it meant something… she rejected you.” Billy’s smile thinned. “Not because she didn’t feel anything. Because it wasn’t the role she planned for you.”

Ethan’s jaw worked, but no words came out.

Billy’s voice dropped further, almost tender in how vicious it was.

“Then Lukas—” he said the name carefully, like he was setting it down on a table “—was steady. He wasn’t some obsession she could toss aside when she got tired. He was what she actually wanted.”

Ethan stared, blinking once like he’d been hit.

Billy didn’t stop.

“Now you see her walking toward him,” Billy said. “Now you hear it—wedding plans, smiles, promises. And it’s all clean for you, isn’t it?”

He spread his hands slightly. “Because in your mind, it’s fate. Love. A future.”

Billy leaned in until their breathing almost matched.

“But I’ll tell you what it is,” he whispered. “It’s her cutting loose the things that entertained her—and keeping the one choice she could commit to.”

Ethan’s face went tight, then slack, like the truth was trying to rearrange itself inside him.

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Billy’s eyes gleamed. “So go on. Tell yourself she ran from you because you were too good to lose.”

A pause—long enough for the doubt to take root.

“Or tell yourself,” Billy added softly, “she married Lukas because she was done with passing time.”

Ethan’s stare turned hollow again. Not calm. Not angry.

Just… shaken.

And Billy watched that exact expression bloom; he’d finally set something off that Ethan couldn’t undo.