Uncle Drew: Chapter 3 Novels & Stories

He glared at me, his eyes held so much hate that I couldn't even spot the warmth he had for me years ago. “They asked you a question, don't keep them waiting,” he sneered. Caleb and Lulu worked in his favor as they curiously looked at me, waiting for an answer. I didn't know what to say, they had lived calling Jun their father. I didn't want to confuse them. “Uncle Clinton,” little Chris, walked in and ran to Clinton's side. He hugged his legs.

I typed back quickly. *This is torture* His response came fast. *Tomorrow. I'll find a way.* I put the phone down and rolled onto my side. Tomorrow felt like forever. --- Morning came too fast. I woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains and Eudora already awake scrolling on her phone. "Morning," she said. "Mom's making breakfast." I got dressed and followed her downstairs. The kitchen was warm and busy. Celeste stood at the stove flipping pancakes. Trenton sat at the table with coffee and his phone. He looked up when I walked in and our eyes met for half a second before he looked away.

Broad shoulders, narrow waist, folded legs are slender, the smooth lines of the half-exposed forearm muscles when the sleeves are rolled up, he holds a teacup and takes a sip. His thin lips pursed, with a tea stain on the corner, giving them a particularly moist appearance. Joselyn said, "It was very similar." "Can you draw a picture of my uncle?" "I'll give it a try," Joselyn began sketching on her sketchbook. Layne went from confusion to sudden clarity and then to shock, "Wow, Aunt Joselyn is amazing!" He ran up to Brodie with a sketchbook in his hand and said, "Uncle, look quickly! Auntie drew you, isn't it super, super alike?"

"Do you like this picture?" William nodded with both thumbs up. "It's very good," he replied. "Alan drew it, I colored it," said Alana. "If you want it, take it!" Alan handed him a drawing of a happy family. He drew a grown woman who was none other than his mother with two small children and a man he called his good Uncle. The happy family they were referring to was Amanda, William, and their two children. William accepted the paper and said thank you. "Then Uncle go home first."

I hadn’t even remembered writing it but there it was and I didn’t take the pen back. ~ He was waiting on my bed when I got back to my quarters. He was barefoot, crayon on his cheek, clutching a folded piece of paper with both hands like it was treasure. “Made you something,” he said, beaming. I kicked off my boots and sat beside him, pretending my hands weren’t still inked from old council reports. He unfolded the drawing carefully, like he didn’t want it to tear. There were stick figures, three of them. “That’s Daddy,” he said, pointing to the one with wild yellow hair and mismatched circles where the eyes should be. “And that’s Uncle Dominic. He has the red pen because he talks the most.”

I pleaded, my voice filled with desperation. My uncle's face twisted with anger, but I was too consumed by my emotions to notice the change in him. In a fit of rage, he forcefully shoved me aside, narrowly avoiding a collision with the television nearby. I toppled over, stunned by the sudden impact. Before I could gather myself and rush to the door, my uncle had already left, taking Petra with him. Hours passed, and my uncle returned without Petra. His eyes gleamed with a sinister light as he looked at me. His words pierced through me like a knife. "You see, I did what was necessary. Now you'll learn your place," he sneered.

I was surprised when Drew's mom suddenly hugged me. "And stop calling us Ma'am and Sir you can just call us auntie Gwen and uncle Rome." Drew's mom said with a smile. "O-okay auntie and uncle," I said still feeling nervous. I heard them chuckled. “Alli stops being nervous, we don’t bite.” Uncle Rome said in a teasing tone. I laughed there and that was the start to gradually lose my nervousness and enjoy their company.

the asshole murmured while wrapping down more of the cover off his fucking chocolate. What the fucking hell ?! I kicked the bastard in the shin and he balked, “WHAT IN THE FUCK’S NAME IS WRONG WITH YOU, LADY ?” “There they go again,” I heard Uncle Draven sigh behind us. With a braying laugh, I replied to the man who was going Komodo Dragon on me, “Did it hurt, Grandpa,” I innocently asked while batting my lashes at freaking Dre. “One more word out of either of you and I shall cut off your supply of chocolate bars,” Uncle Draven threatened and Dre pouted like a stubborn, pampered shit of a kid he was.

It had been a long day. The three of them chatted as her dad flicked through the channels, trying to find something better to watch. All of a sudden, Uncle Trevor called out that he loved the movie that her dad had just flicked past and he went back to it. Ellie didn't recognise it and she thought the acting was terrible, but she watched it nevertheless. She enjoyed hanging out with her dad and Uncle Trevor and tomorrow she was going to cook them all a wonderful Christmas lunch.

I was willing to deal with him for bringing up such a past, but just then, Caleb, his so-called foolish son, ran up towards him. “That's enough, Uncle Caspian.” He placed his hand on my chest as he pushed me away from his father. “You killed your own father, and here you are fighting mine? You wish to kill him too?” As he pointed his hand at me, speaking to me—his uncle—with disrespect, I didn't hesitate to teach him a tiny lesson. I swiftly got a strong but casual grip of his hand pointed at me. “I'm your uncle, Caleb… show some respect!” I bent it over, the pain excruciating as he wailed in pain.