19. Briggs
brIGGS
I watch Agnes fawn over and tease Layla’s Uncle Ben, trying to soften his mood since I’m currently sitting across a plastic table from him.
We’ve never shared a meal, and Agnes made sure Layla and I were seated next to each other, which only seemed to piss him off more.
However, she knows.
Whether that be Cruz and his big-ass mouth, or she had an inkling, that woman was bound to know sooner or later.
Agnes has always been Team Briggs. I remember when she’d catch me at Maple & Main diner and straight up ask me when I was stealing Layla Jean away from my teammate.
That he was no good for her, but she was good for me.
I haven’t had that kind of adult support growing up, so Agnes looking out for me and seeing something that I hadn’t told anyone was a bit comforting.
However or whatever she saw, it’s still evident to her today.
She’ll steal the smallest of glances my way, as if hinting she has my back, then try to butter Ben up some more.
Regardless of how much she knows or if she still has an inkling about the matter, it’s not my fault this time. Layla ran her mouth, and surprisingly, she hasn’t freaked out about it.
Yet.
She picks at her food, and I do the same to mine. I didn’t want to intervene on their little dinner date, but I was coerced. I’ve actually been thinking of a way out so she doesn’t have to go through him bitching at me about something.
Turning my head a little, I cover my mouth when I say, “I’m going to fake a phone call, then let you both eat.”
“Don’t,” she mutters, looking down at her plate. “He needs to deal with it.”
“Little too late for that.”
“Now you wanna bail and not worry about it. That’s all you’ve been doing for nine years.”
“You still haven’t said you love me, Layla Jean. I need those words—”
“You wanna speak a little louder, son,” her Uncle Ben carps out, earning both Layla’s and my attention. “I can’t hear you.”
I mean…
“Yeah,” I say loud enough for him. “I was going to fake a phone call so Layla Jean will actually eat her food. She’s not because you’re pissed.”
He stops chewing and flicks his attention over to her. “I’m fine.”
“You’ve been grumblin’ over here since we arrived,” Agnes chimes in. “What’s your problem, Benjamin? It’s Briggs Kerrigan. We should all be proud of him for everything he’s accomplished and—”
“I know who he is.”
Agnes’s expression turns murderous, and I place my fork down because I might need to drag Layla out of here if she starts throwing stuff at him.
“Are you going to keep interruptin’ me every time I talk? I didn’t know you were such a grudge holder toward someone who hasn’t done anything personally to you. Yet.”
Ben shifts in his seat. “He did something to all of us. As a town. We all experienced—”
“And what did you experience? Specifically?” she presses. “I’m extremely curious.” Agnes doesn’t wait for him to speak and looks to me. “Why don’t you tell me, honey? Ben can’t seem to remember.”
“Nothing,” Layla chimes in on my behalf. “We all had to walk on eggshells around him.”
Ben scowls. “Eggshells? Why would you need to walk around anything? You didn’t do anything.”
“I fake-dated Cruz Weston so I could be around him.”
Oh…fuck.
Her uncle’s eyes practically bug out of his head, and I don’t know what the hell has gotten over Layla, but she’s just spewing out all her dirty laundry to anyone who’ll listen.
The two people who have been the biggest problem in our relationship.
“You did, what?” He slices his sharp gaze over to me. “What did you do?”
Geezus Christ.
I wish my father had this much faith in me.
“Uncle Ben—” Layla starts but her guardian is not having any of her trying to make this better.
No, he wants my head because he hates me.
“You’ve done enough since you’ve been back,” he fumes, his face turning redder by the second. “You can go.”
“I’m gonna stay,” I retort evenly, fully aware I’m making shit worse for him, but he’s not my concern at the moment. “I don’t think she’s done yet.”
His brows crash together, appearing so beside himself that he doesn’t know who to look or be pissed at, me or her.
I don’t mind taking the brunt of his anger. I’m used to my father spewing out bullshit on a daily basis, and her Uncle Ben isn’t who I’m in a relationship with.
It’s her.
It’s always going to be her.
Whether she loves me right now or not, I’m never permitting her to go or divorce me.
Layla exhales, and it sounds defeated. I know our secret has been weighing on her shoulders, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Her Uncle Ben is stronger than she knows. He’ll be furious, but he’ll get over it.
He’ll get over it because he loves Layla.
And, if he never loves me, I’m good with it because I have her, and that’s all I need.
“This is a family matter,” Ben claims. “If you and Agnes would excuse us—”
“He can stay,” Layla vouches, but this is something she might need to do alone. I don’t want to leave her, but Agnes doesn’t need to sit in the front row with her gossip-lovin’ ass. “You need—”
“Agnes and I will give you both some space,” I cut in, pushing my chair back and prompting Agnes to do the same. But, before I stand, I lean over and kiss her temple lightly, whispering, “You don’t need to tell him tonight. I’ll wait forever for you, Short Stop.”
Straightening my spine, I can feel the heat from the other side of the table. Thank God, her uncle has plastic silverware, or he might stab me with that butter knife.
“Have a good night, Mr. Melrose,” I say before I go. “Be easy on her.”
“I’m always easy on her,” he snaps back, but I don’t bitch at him that he hasn’t because he’s restricted her from full-on happiness with me.
And I think, sometimes, he played a part in overdoing it so she’d feel guilty if she had.
“Agnes,” I call out, meeting her on the other side of the table. “Buy me an ice cream.”
“Buy me an ice cream,” she lightly chides with a small smile. “You’re the one worth millions, boy.”
“I can manage that.”
We walk a ways away before she says, in a low voice, “I don’t know what the two of you have been up to, but don’t let her go, Briggs. She’s good for you.”
I nod, but I can’t help feeling that maybe I’ve been doing this all wrong. “Yeah. But maybe I’m startin’ to realize I’m no good for her.”