Page 77 of The Score We Never Settled

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 youdo?”

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 doneenoughsince 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’sher.

It’s always going to beher.

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 wouldexcuseus?—”

“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.”

“Buymean 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.”

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