31. Briggs
brIGGS
Eight days isn’t long enough.
And those days getting sliced down to less aren’t ideal, and it’s something I was hoping wouldn’t come to fruition, but it has. Now, I have to leave my girl in Magnolia Ridge and go back on the road to win in the upcoming playoffs and then the World Series.
I’m not concerned about any of those things.
What I am concerned about is Layla Jean falling back into old habits, realizing that she can live her life without me and start with that divorce bullshit again.
I obviously won’t be here to fuck the ideas out of her head.
So, I started looking at my schedule to see what kind of free time I’m allotted, even if it’s for a few hours.
The plane ride is about an hour, no joke, and I’d stay here fifteen minutes just to fuck Layla Jean, just to hop back on a plane if that’s what it took.
I’m that severely dedicated to the cause.
I dropped her off at Buttercup it’s not going to do me any favors, but I can’t say goodbye to her.
I just can’t.
Not when she teared up today. Not when I saw the look in her eyes, which made her upset.
It’s not ideal, but she won’t let me leave the MLB. I’d give it up for her in a heartbeat just to have her in my bed, our house, and everywhere in between.
But not with my father in front of me.
“Yeah, no,” I deadpan, moving to get around him when he steps right into my path to stop me purposely.
“Everly said you were leaving tomorrow. I know you’re not comin’ by to say goodbye to me, so I thought I’d come to you.”
“Didn’t need to.”
“Never know when I’m going to see you again. So I wasn’t going to chance it.”
“What do you need?”
He lifts a brow. “Need? I don’t need anything—”
“Then I’m failing to understand why I can’t get around you right now.”
“Briggs, shut the hell up and lemme talk, eh? Ya always had a mouth and needed the last word, so let me get out what I want to say, and then you can go throw a temper tantrum somewhere, alright?”
Temper tantrum?
This man has a lot of balls to come at me sideways when he’s not entitled to speak to me at all. However, I’d rather not cause a scene in front of Layla’s bakery, even though it may get her more customers if I do.
Exhaling, I nod for him to get on with it, and he seems relieved that he doesn’t have to argue anymore.
“I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I’m proud of you, boy.
I know I wasn’t the best father; I was the worst. I blamed you for your mother’s death when you did nothing wrong, and it was inconceivable to do.
Cruel, even. I couldn’t fathom or understand why a woman with no health issues would suddenly die of a heart attack out of nowhere.
It made no sense. You being at the tail end of it, it was easier for me to blame someone—”
“I was fucking eight,” I clip out. “Are you serious—”
“I know, and I’m sorry—”
“It’s a little too late for sorries and forgiveness there, Dad.
And, honestly, I don’t need it. There’s no piecing together anything because there’s nothing left.
You blamed me for Mom’s death and demanded I not grieve.
I was a kid, one who didn’t know how to handle such things, and all I had were my sisters and then Layla Jean—”
“I’m not lookin’ for you to accept it, Briggs,” my father concedes evenly.
“It’s weighed heavily on my mind, and I needed to get it out.
And, you’re right, I don’t see a world where you would ever forgive me, but it wasn’t your fault.
And I’m a horrible father for the things I did and didn’t do.
You needed me, and I wasn’t there. But, when I needed help, you were. ”
I shake my head. “That wasn’t for you. That was for Adeline and Everly, so they still had their home. A home Mom used to live in. So you wouldn’t pick that bottle up again and put them through what I endured.”
“I know,” he mutters. “But I appreciate it all the same, son. And I’m happy for you and Layla. She’s a good woman. I hope you two are very happy together.”
“Thanks.”
He stares at me, and I take notice of the wrinkles that indicate how many years have gone by since we’ve stood in front of each other with nothing really to say.
I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to get past what this man did to me. The loneliness and abandonment I felt when not even my own father wanted anything to do with me.
It’s why I’ve struggled so much with Layla in the past. Why I also thought she was eventually going to leave me for someone who had a normal life and no emotional damage.
She deserves better, she always will, but I’m never going to freely give her up.
“I’d like to pay you back,” my father issues. “For paying off the mortgages and—”
“Don’t need to,” I return. “I’m not hurting for it.”
He hesitates before he bobs his head. “Okay. I’m wishing you the best when you get back, son. Take care of yourself and your beautiful wife. I’ll be rooting for you.”
Then he rounds my body and takes off, leaving me in a bit of a turmoiled state that this is all too little, too late, but my brain still locks onto the fact that it’s wished for it for so long that it acknowledges it.
But how do we grow past it?
“About that wife, boy,” a male voice pushes out from behind me, enticing me to crane my head and meet another so-called pain in the ass.
However, that pain in the ass was me, and he was the one who got the short end of the stick.
Layla’s Uncle Ben.
He glowers a bit at me, and I hold it because what’s done is done and by no means is going to scare me off with whatever threats he has saved up in his head.
I’ve said it once, a million times, and I’ll say it again.
Layla Jean is mine, and no one is going to fuck that up for me.
“Mr. Melrose,” I address with zero excitement or fake fucks that I’m happy to see him. “I’d love to have this chat, but I have to go meet Micah Wolfe—”
“This will only take a second,” he insists, taking a step closer and never taking his authoritative stance off me. “You married my niece, didn’t ask for my permission, and hid it from me like some secret you both were gonna die with.”
“I wanted her to tell you,” I reply. “But she wasn’t ready—”
“That was up to you to approach me about the matter, boy. She’s my responsibility—”
“You’d never say yes in a thousand years,” I argue, because he wouldn’t, and I’m not going to stand here and get bitched at for something he never would’ve given in the first place.
“And half of it’s your fault because Layla never felt comfortable going to you about it.
It’s a big reason why it stayed a secret so long, and we almost got divorced.
So, spare me the should’ve asked part because it’s bullshit, and you never wanted me with her in the first place. ”
“Still don’t.”
Well, at least he’s honest.
“Sorry to hear that, sir. But I love your niece. And she means everything to me.”
His jaw ticks, and I’m never going to be seen as good in his eyes, so I leave it alone. My father just emotionally drained me, and I have to go see a bunch of kids with too much energy and not enough Ritalin.
“You’d better take care of her,” he commands through a sneer. “I’m not playin’ with you, boy. She deserves the world. And you may have millions of dollars, but that’s not going to buy her happiness. She needs support and—”
“I understand that, sir. I’ve been trying to retire for years, and she won’t let me.”
His face lifts, seeming surprised, and that takes some of the tension out of his body. “She won’t?”
“No.”
Pushing his lips out, he looks over at Buttercup & Brioche and bobs his head. “Interesting.”
“How so?”
“She loves you, that much is obvious. But she wants you both to have what you’ve worked so hard for.
And that, in turn, means sacrifices. It’s what her Aunt Denise and I had to do for years.
She was a lawyer, still in school when…we made it work.
Obviously, she saw that.” He looks back at me.
“You’ve got a year to make me like you. If not, it’s going to be hell for you. ”
Okay…
I’m not entirely sure what that would look like or what that would consist of, but I don’t push it. He’s from Magnolia Ridge, where expectations are wildly high, and things are extreme. He’s asking for a miracle, and I can’t say I’ve ever pulled one of those off.
However, for Layla’s sake, I’ll do my best.
“Thank you, Mr. Melrose,” I deadpan because kissing his ass is going to get me nowhere, and filling his head with lies is going to do the same.
He nods his head in acknowledgement, then continues down the street, leaving me to stew on what a world like that would look like.
Layla not stressed out about her Uncle Ben’s dislike for me and everything in between.
That’d be a miracle, honestly.
And it looks like I have some more work to do.