37. Layla
LAYLA
“What is a full house again?”
Dodger disgruntledly lowers his two cards and sends a blank stare over to Adeline, clearly not having the additional questions on a game she invited herself to. “Ya know damn well what a—”
“Language,” William Drake drawls, chewing on a toothpick. “We’ve got ladies in the room now.”
Really, because Uncle Ben hasn’t taken notice.
He’s sitting next to Adeline, not bothering to look up at his cards once, and she’s already played three hands.
“Ain’t no ladies in here,” Dodger claims. “Adeline had a damn gamblin’ ring in high school.”
All eyes land on her, but she doesn’t crack under the pressure. Instead, she looks as innocent as a little fawn in front of a bunch of poachers.
“I dunno what you mean,” she coos. “That’s inaccurate.”
Dodger scoffs and goes back to studying his next play. “Then how was it that you took all my allowance money and made me drive naked that one time—”
“Aw, hell,” Thomas Redding drawls, tossing his cards to the table. “I fold. I’d rather lose my twenty bucks than listen to you drivin’ anywhere without any pants on.”
“Dodger,” Uncle Ben addresses. “Please don’t tell me you were friends with my niece. I don’t wanna think that she started’ seein’ that boy because of your—”
“Let’s go talk in private,” I coax because I’ve stood here for long enough, and I’m not doing it anymore. “Unless you wanna do it here?”
He immediately pushes his chair back because the last thing he wants to do is cause drama with his name attached to it.
“Ain’t nuthin’ compared to what my daddy said you used to do, Ben,” Dodger makes sure to slide in before we can get on with it. “I heard you had quite a long triangle goin’.”
William and Thomas chuckle in confirmation that Uncle Ben has a history of his own, and judging mine is starting to slip right through his fingers.
I love this town.
We head into the tiny hallway, tucked in between the back room and the front of the hardware store, when my uncle huffs his annoyance.
“What is it, Layla Jean? I was startin’ to win back there.”
“Not with Adeline at the table, apparently. She’s been folding on purpose, and Dodger is getting irritated about it.”
“Foldin’? Why would she—”
“To get the pot bigger. You still have a lot of chips on the table.”
He looks back at the room. “Oh, for the love of God. Those Kerrigans—”
“We need to talk about Briggs, Uncle Ben. I know you’re mad, but—”
“I ain’t mad.”
My expression collapses. “Huh? You haven’t come up to the bakery—”
“You’re mad at me,” he quips. “I’ve just been givin’ you time, is all.”
“You stormed out on fish fry night,” I protest evenly. “And you haven’t spoken to me at all. You’ve never liked him. And I went behind your back—”
“I spoke to your husband. He has a year.”
“A…year? For what?”
“For me to like him.”
My brain just malfunctions and freezes as I openly gape at him like one of us—maybe both of us—has lost their damn minds around here.
“I don’t understand,” I hedge. “You’re not mad?”
“I was. But I don’t want ya to get a divorce. Unless he’s given you probable cause for a divorce.” His expression hardens. “Has he?”
“No.”
He almost doesn’t look pleased by that because he scowls, but then he sighs as if getting that off his face and chest. “Well…it is what it is, I suppose. As long as he treats you right, and I don’t have to brand him.”
“Uncle Ben…”
“Well, he ain’t gonna just get away with it, now,” he argues. “I still gotta protect ya.”
“You do,” I confirm easily. “I just didn’t want to…disappoint you.”
He frowns, then steps forward and pulls me into his arms for a giant hug. “Layla Jean, you’ve never let me down. You’ve always made me proud, and I couldn’t ask for a better niece. You may have bad taste in men, but—”
“Uncle Ben,” I drone as I start to pull away, but he only tightens his hold.
“There, there now,” he coos, patting my back mockingly. “We all can’t be a good judge of character—”
“Says the man in his love triangle,” I shoot back, causing him to pull away from me suddenly, but he holds on to both my biceps.
“Now,” he grinds out, but there’s no real animosity or anger in his tone. “You don’t listen to none of them men in there. They don’t know what they’re talkin’ about—”
“Was Aunt Denise involved in that?”
He scowls. “Now, listen here—”
“I’m listening.”
He exhales with a huff, not appearing amused or wanting to tell the story, but, I mean, if we’re going to judge men around here and their wiles, may as well start close to home.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he claims. “I was datin’ Priscilla Martin, and then your Aunt Denise came to town.”
“So you dated both?”
“Noooo…” he drags out. “I dated Priscilla because her daddy was a foreman on an oil field, and I wanted the job. A lot of money—”
“You dated her for a job,” I interject, because oh my God. “Uncle Ben, that’s awful—”
“Well, she was usin’ me, too. For my body—”
“Stop—” I hold up a hand because that’s truly enough of this story. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stomach anymore “—I’m good with not knowin’ this story.”
“Ya sure? Because it’s a decent story—”
“Positive. Thank you.”
He bows his head. “Alright then. It’s there if you ever wanna hear it.”
Yep, never gonna happen.
I pat his chest and step out of his hold because I need to tell him what’s going on for the next several weeks.
“I’m heading out to Houston to see Briggs. He’s in a big series right now, and tonight, if they win, they clench a playoff spot.”
“He will,” Uncle Ben says confidently. “That boy never stopped when someone told him not to do something.”
“I hope so. He deserves it.”
“Maybe. But, if he does, I’ll fly out to see him play. Maybe bring his dad out.”
“I…don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Trust me,” he replies. “I know what I’m doin’. Ya gotta break through the tension and let him get all his anger out. Then ya can repair it. I didn’t have the best relationship with my old man, either. But, after some time, we got somewhat there. Might not be perfect, but…might be.”
“Okay.”
He pulls me in for another hug and squeezes me tight. “Call me when you land.”
“Will do.”
“And I’ll keep an eye on Blake for ya. Maybe bug him a little ’cause I’m bored.”
I smile. “Sounds good.”
He gives me a small grin. “I’m proud of you, Layla Jean. And I’m gonna love ya no matter what, alright?”
I try to return the smile but tears well up in my eyes. “Yeah…alright.”
“Don’t be cryin’, now. I’m no good at that.”
“Okay.”
He shoos me. “Now, go get your sister-in-law so I can actually win today.”