Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(132)

Even though my future didn’t include Briggs.





<>Briggs<>


“Jesus Christ!” I placed my hand over my chest when I walked into my house. “Why can’t you just f*cking knock on the door like a normal f*cking person?!” I yelled at my uncle, shutting the door behind me. “You don’t own this house. I do. So f*cking knock on the door,” I ordered, setting my groceries on the kitchen island.

He just sat on the barstool without a care in the world, not paying me any mind at all. Holding his head up high in his I’m-Alejandro-Martinez-and-I-don’t-give-a-f*ck kind of way.

“To what do I owe the honor of your unexpected appearance, Uncle? You must know Esteban is out of town or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, I missed him? What a goddamn shame. By all means, give that motherf*cker my regards.”

I rolled my eyes. It had been a year since Esteban and I moved in together. He hated the Carolinas, and wanted to move back to New York. It was one of our biggest arguments. He was actually there right now, traveling on business.

“Can’t an uncle just want to visit his favorite niece?”

“Your only niece, and an uncle, yes. You, no,” I declared, peeking my head out of the fridge to look at him.

He grinned, amused with my banter. I continued to put away the rest of my groceries.

“I hear your book is the talk of the town. You’re all over the bookstores in New York City.”

“Are you scared the FBI is going to knock on your door, Uncle? Don’t worry I changed your name.”

“I’ve read it, Briggs.”

My eyes widened as I breathed out, “You lie.”

“Antonio, never lies,” he chuckled, using his name from my book. “I was there the day you were born, Daisy. I was one of the first people to hold you. Your mom named you Daisy because—”

“It was her favorite flower,” I interrupted.

He smiled, peering around the room as if he was recalling something from his past. He was a dangerous, mysterious man, but he loved my mom. There was no doubt about that.

“Yes. It was her favorite flower,” he repeated with sad eyes and a solemn expression. “You look like her. That’s the first thing I thought when I saw you in the damn hospital bed when you were six. I couldn’t believe how much you f*cking looked like her. You were a spitting image of her as a child, and are even more now as a woman.”

I took in every word he was saying. Scared that if I interrupted him, he would stop talking about my mother. Stop sharing memories that pained him for some reason. A reason beyond my understanding, and I knew he’d never tell me if I asked.

“Ask,” he ordered, reading my mind.

I looked him in the eyes and asked the one question that had always plagued me.

“Why did you take me in?”

“I promised your mother that if anything ever happened to them, I would take care of you.”

I frowned. “You were there when I was born, but I never remember seeing you around after.”

“I never forgot any of your birthday’s or holiday’s. You received my gifts, I made sure of it.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but quickly shut it.

“She took you away from this life, Daisy. The life you hate so f*cking much. Only for me to bring you back in it.”

He stood and I immediately thought our conversation was over. I was beyond disappointed. I had so many questions that had gone unanswered. He walked over to the screen door, his hands placed firmly in the pockets of his slacks. Peering out the window, like his life was flashing before his eyes.

“I raised you the only way I knew how. Putting a roof over your head, making sure you were alive and fed.”

“What about affection, Uncle? What about love? Did you not think I needed that? Wouldn’t any little girl need to be held? To be told that everything was going to be okay? That they were loved?”

He turned away from the window, narrowing his cold, soulless eyes at me.

“Mistakes are what run this world, Daisy. The past cannot be changed as much as we may want it to. I am no different. I have always been there for you, despite what you think. I still am.”

“Why did you read my book?” I blurted, needing to know.

“I wanted confirmation,” he simply stated, making his way back to the kitchen island.

“On what?”

“I let you both go, didn’t I?” He ignored my question.

I don’t know what came over me. I slammed the cabinet door, and made my way over to stand in front of him. Looking deep into his eyes.

I didn’t falter. “Do love you me, Uncle?”

“I raised you, didn’t I? I was practically a f*cking kid, raising a kid. But I protect you. I’m here for you. No matter what.”

I shook my head no. “That doesn’t answer my question. Do you love me?”

“Daisy, I’d kill for you. I’d take a bullet for you, and I can’t say that about anyone else.”

My eyes widened, realizing that would be the best answer he would ever give me.

“If you could go back, would you still raise me the same way?”

“Yes,” he answered without any hesitation.

I bowed my head, disappointed. He grabbed my chin, making me look at him again.