Chapter Thirty
Heath sat sullenly in his dressing room back at the First Niagara Center. He was lying on the floor with his legs against the wall. It was his favorite way to stretch, to relax, to focus on what was coming. It helped him calm his thoughts and get into the mindset he needed to be in to be successful.
The problem was, none of that was happening now. His thoughts were swirling and he felt anything but relaxed or at peace.
He hated the fact that Drew had left. He hated the fact that he'd disappointed her father, and he really hated the fact that to some extent, he agreed with the things that had been said about him. Much like he'd told Carter, he'd had one job, and that was to make sure Drew was taken care of. He'd failed. Regardless of how it had happened…he'd failed.
She'd sent him a text a little later on, telling him that she could have forced her own hand in the matter and refused to accompany her father, but she and Mr. Carnevale had had a long talk in her room as she was packing up, and her father had broken down in tears in front of her. It scared and upset her, she wrote, and allowed her to see just how badly her circumstances affected her father, who had always been the rock in the family and her backbone throughout the ordeal. So, in order to keep the peace and for the sake of her father's sanity, she had quietly left the hotel. She wished him luck, told him she'd be keeping up with what was going on through media outlets and Lana, and hoped to talk to him soon. He hadn't been able to respond yet, simply because he couldn't think of anything to say in reply. Nothing seemed to be good or appropriate enough.
And so, he said nothing.
Luckily, his family seemed to be able to sense his mood and wisely left him alone. John would come in soon to wrap up his hands. Beyond that, Heath wanted to be left alone with his thoughts. They turned angrily to problem with Carter. He hadn't expected it, but wasn't surprised when Carter had given him the ax. It sucked, but he knew financially he was fine with or without the job. He hated the idea of not being able to work with Rex or Jameson anymore, but that didn't mean they couldn't hang out.
The more Heath thought about it, the more he began to view the end of the partnership in a positive light. For some time, he'd been wondering why he was working for someone. There was no reason why he couldn't be successful on his own. Even though he had "co-owned" the gym, Carter had always retained the majority percentage of ownership. The name was "Carter's Gym"—it had never belonged to Heath.
He decided he would open his own gym, and Carter Steele could go suck a dick.
He'd mulled over the idea previously, but it had been much simpler to take the partnership deal with Carter rather than to start from scratch. But the more he thought of it, the more he realized that was precisely what he needed to do. He needed to branch out on his own, be responsible for himself and work for himself. If he ever had a partner, he would look no further than his own brother, but Heath wasn't convinced he couldn't do it himself. The past several months at Carter's, Heath had single-handedly taken care of all aspects of the business. He could do it again, and he could do a better job since it would be his. Really and truly his.
There was a knock on the door, and Heath figured it was probably John. With a sigh, he rolled off the floor and went to the door. He pulled it open and was surprised to see not only John, but Connor, and behind him were Bryan Callen and Drew Sheridan, the commentators. Heath felt the same fury he'd felt the day before stirring in his gut as he glared at them.
Drew didn't miss it and lifted his hands in the air. "Look," he began. "I came to apologize. I was given that information about your girlfriend and we meant no harm."
"That's fuckin' hilarious," Heath said icily.
"Honestly," Bryan chimed in. "Marty Brown was supposed to give us the scoop on your and Connor's relationship these days—he was prepaid by the network for that interview. So when he didn't get that, he got something else."
Heath stared at him levelly, and merely blinked. "And fuck whoever he hurt in the process, right?"
Bryan sighed and shook his head. "No, of course not," he said. "Look, is she around? We'll make an apology to her."
"She's gone now," Heath practically snarled. "So save your bullshit."
"Listen, we were just passing on the information," Drew said in a way that made Heath want to break his neck. "People saw you two together, people saw you come get her from the crowd, people are curious. And everyone knows about the Jackson James case; no one knew she was the victim, though."
"Yeah," Heath said darkly. "This little thing called protecting a victim's identity. Way to fuck that up."