Page 115 of The Score We Never Settled

Not tomorrow.

Layla is going to be pissed at me; 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 wantto 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 fuckingeight,” 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. Youblamedme 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 tolive 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?—”