A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

GRIFFIN

W hat the hell?

I rush after Finley as she darts through the crowded bar. To where? I have no clue, and I’m not sure Finley knows where she’s going, either. Just…away. From me.

When we reach the hallway leading to the bathroom, I manage to catch up and ask, “Hey, you good?”

Finley freezes and looks down at my hand wrapped around her bicep. Fuck, I didn’t even notice I grabbed her. Not roughly, mind you, but still. Forcing my fingers to relax, I lift them one at a time from forefinger to pinky, ignoring how soft her skin is, and let her go as the crowd moves around us.

It isn’t the first time I’ve offered a helping hand to Finley when it comes to the opposite sex. Nah, screw that. It isn’t even the hundredth time. At this point, it might be the thousandth. And even though I’ve never crossed the line with her, Fin’s never been one to shy away from flirting or pretending we’re together if the situation called for it .

So why the hell did she run tonight?

She looked like she wanted nothing to do with me. Like I was a fucking pariah or some shit. Hell, if my friends weren’t here to step in, I would’ve played the doting boyfriend for any of the girls tonight, so what’s Fin’s problem?

“You good?” I repeat.

Eyebrow twitching, Finley whispers, “Yeah, I’m good.”

It’s a lie. We both know it. Or maybe we don’t. Maybe I can read her better than she can even read herself. It’s not surprising, considering the girl in front of me.

“Fin,” I warn, then glance toward the crowded dance floor. “What the fuck was that out there?”

“It was nothing.”

“I was only messing around,” I argue.

“I know.”

“Then why are you lookin’ at me like this?”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” she whispers.

“You’re right. You’re not looking at me at all,” I growl, moving closer until she’s practically pinned between me and the rough brick wall as the bar continues filling with people. “What’s going on? Did Drew do something again?”

She rolls her eyes. “Griff?—”

“What did he do, Fin?” I demand.

“He did nothing, all right?”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she repeats. But her exasperation does me in. It taints her words, giving me way more information than she’s probably comfortable with. It’s always been this way with Fin and me, though. And maybe it’s normal. Inevitable, even. To know someone so wholly after being raised together. To be able to read their thoughts as easily as your own after spending so much time together. And right now, something is off. Yeah, she might not admit it, but something is very wrong. I just don’t know what.

Regret floods through me as I squeeze the back of my neck, hating how uncomfortable she looks. Like she wants to be anywhere but here. With me.

“Did I cross a line?” I ask. My tone is softer but just as weighted.

Her gaze flicks to mine, and the pain in them? The fucking indecision? It shoots straight to my chest.

Fuck. She’s hurting.

Why are you hurting?

I replay what went down a few minutes ago but come up empty. Again.

“What’s goin’ on, Fin?” I push.

“I, uh,”—she stares at the ground—“I don’t want to do this here.”

Ignoring the warning bells going off in my head, I step closer until her back hits the wall. “Do what here?”

“Griff—”

“Say it, Fin.”

Her gaze darts up to mine. “I can’t be friends with you anymore.”

The words hit like a sucker punch, and I jerk back. I expected…something, but I never expected this. Not after everything we’ve been through. “What?”

“I said,”—she takes a deep breath—“I can’t be friends with you anymore.”

“Why the hell not?”

Her tongue darts out between her pretty pink lips as she squares her shoulders. It’d be comical if her words weren’t a knife to the ribcage. “Drew and I, we both think?—”

A bark of laughter escapes me. “Are you serious right now? ”

Mother. Fucker.

I knew he had something to do with this. I fucking knew it. That controlling asshole has been the bane of my existence since the moment Finley gave him her number all those years ago. How does she not see it? How does she not realize how fucking toxic he is for her? The guy has made her cry more times than I can count, yet she still bends over backward at every. Fucking. Whim. Which honestly, considering the backbone on this girl, makes zero sense at all.

Is she really this stubborn?

“Griff.” She touches my arm, but I shift away from her.

“Of course, he has something to do with this.” I scrub my hand over my face. “Of course he does.”

“Look, you have to understand where he’s coming from,” she begs. “If you had a girlfriend who was really close with a guy?—”

“We’ve been friends forever,” I remind her. And I mean it. Literally. Since the day her brother and I were born, we were inseparable. Then Finley, Ophelia, and my little sister came into the picture, and the saga continued. Some families are tight. Ours? Ours is steel. Not just woven together but hammered into one. One family. One unit. Unbreakable. Unwavering.

Her attention falls to her feet, and a glint of hope ignites inside me.

Maybe.

Maybe I can get to her.

Maybe I can help her see how shitty he is for her. Now, he’s asking her to give up relationships for him? It’s bullshit. She has to see this.

Doesn’t she?

Nostrils flaring, I exhale slowly, trying to keep my frustration in check as I repeat, “We’ve been friends forever , Fin.”

“I know,” she whispers. But she doesn’t look at me.

Why won’t you look at me?

“You think we can just…shut it off?” I squeeze my hand into a fist at my side. “We live under the same roof, Fin. We attend the same family functions. My best friend is your older brother, and your best friend is my little sister.” I lean back on my heels, giving her space and taking in her profile as she stares blankly in front of her like I’m not even here, and fuck if it doesn’t sting. “You really think you can avoid me?” I ask. “Write me off like I’m nothing? Like our relationship is nothing?”

“We can…we can keep our distance for a little while, you know? Nothing crazy?—”

My scoff cuts her off. I drop my head back and stare at the ceiling, attempting to get a handle on shit, but the girl’s making it difficult.

“I love him, Griff,” she whispers.

The words scrape against my skin like sandpaper, and my head falls forward. How does she not. Fucking. See it?

“Have a good night, Fin.” I push away from her, then head toward the exit, knowing she won’t even bother to watch me walk away. Why would she? Her boyfriend forbade it.

Bullshit.