A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

FINLEY

“ D on’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak out,” I whisper. The test wobbles against the edge of the porcelain sink as I set it down and push my hair away from my face.

I’m late.

It isn’t entirely out of the ordinary, thanks to my medication, but I can still feel it. Like some weird sixth sense. I feel…different. And maybe it’s some strange mother’s intuition or something, but I feel like I already know…I already know the truth. It makes me want to puke.

“Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak,” I repeat. It’s been my mantra since I realized my period was late, but I haven’t had the ovaries to buy a test until today. After my friendship breakup… thing with Griffin, I bought a ticket and flew out to see Drew. I wanted to reconnect, and I’d say it was great if I wasn’t currently hiding in my bathroom, trying not to have a nervous breakdown.

I can’t be pregnant.

I can’t be.

Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I lift my head toward the ceiling and shake my hands in front of me, trying not to have an absolute meltdown in the middle of my bathroom. Er, my brother’s bathroom. Hell, it’s not even his. Technically, I’m pretty sure this is Reeves’ bathroom since he’s the one who lives across the hall with Dylan, but who needs labels anyway?

My kitchen caught fire a few months ago. It practically burned the entire main area to a crisp, forcing me and my roommates to find a new place to stay until renovations are finished. My roommates are Dylan and Ophelia. Well, kind of. Initially, they were my roommates. Then Ophelia fell in love with Mav, and Dylan fell in love with Reeves, and blah, blah, blah. One thing led to another, and I’m pretty sure they still would’ve moved next door to be with their boyfriends even if our kitchen hadn’t burned to a crisp.

Now here we are, all scrunched on one side of the duplex. Dylan and Ophelia don’t mind, though. Not when they can sleep in their boyfriend’s rooms and practice making babies like a bunch of jackrabbits. It doesn’t make me feel like the fifth wheel at all, especially when my own boyfriend is thousands of miles away.

Yeah. Not gonna lie. Even if things are pretty good on the boyfriend front lately, long-distance relationships suck. Even the term “sucks” doesn’t carry enough weight, but I’m too anxious to think of a better metaphor. I wipe beneath my eyes and let out a slow breath.

Especially now.

Now, my long-distance relationship really sucks.

As I reach for the pregnancy test, a loud knock on the door makes me jump, and the stupid thing clatters into the sink.

“Shit.”

“Ev?” someone calls. Griffin, I think .

“It’s Finley,” I correct him. “I’ll be right out!”

He doesn’t answer, but I hear his fading footsteps as he leaves me alone.

We haven’t talked since that night at the bar, and to say things are strained would be a massive understatement.

He hates me.

I can’t even blame him for hating me.

A small part of me hates me too.

Another knock shakes the wooden door. “Fin?” Dylan calls.

Without looking at the result, I shove the test into my back pocket and cover the stick with my thick gray sweater. “Be right out!”

“Hurry! I want to say goodbye before we leave.”

They’re flying to Cancun. All of them are. Everyone but me. It’s lame and disheartening, but I’ve tried not to dwell on it as I rinse my hands under the faucet, wipe them on the towel, and open the door.

Dylan’s blonde hair is pulled into a high ponytail, her glasses propped on her cute little nose, as she grins back at me. “That was fast.”

“I don’t want you to miss your flight.” Pulling her in for a hug, I squeeze her tight. “Don’t have too much fun without me, okay?”

“On one condition,” she replies. “Promise you won’t kill Frankie.”

My shoulders hunch, and I let her go.

Frankie, AKA my nemesis.

I know what you’re thinking. Finley, you’re so delightful. How can you have a nemesis? Honestly, it’s pretty easy when the said culprit is covered in mucus, has green skin, a long, sticky tongue, and is just unpredictable enough to make any sane person queasy. Emphasis on the sane .

Crossing my arms, I pop out a hip and counter, “I make no guarantees.”

“Finley,” Dylan warns.

My badass facade crumbles, and I press my hands in a prayer gesture. “Please, please, please don’t make me watch Frankie. I’ll do anything, I swear!”

“I’ll bring you the best souvenir, I promise.” She squeezes my hands and lowers them. “But you can’t kill him.”

“What if he gets loose?” I ask. “What if he jumps on me or licks me with his sticky tongue?” A shiver runs down my spine.

“He’s not going to lick you,” she argues then hesitates. “Okay, he actually might, but only if he thinks you’re his food?—”

“Dylan!” I screech.

“You’ll be fine. And remember, frogs are friends.”

“Frogs are disgusting.”

“Disgustingly adorable,” she corrects me with a grin.

Seriously. I love Dylan. I do. But I still can’t believe she let her boyfriend gift her a frog this Christmas when we both know I’m absolutely terrified of them. Actually, now that I think about it, he likely got her the frog because I’m terrified of them.

Bastard.

Not that I don’t like Reeves. I do, actually. He’s pretty perfect for Dylan, and I’d even venture to say he had my full support in dating my best friend until he purchased the green-skinned devil.

Jerkface.

“Pickles!” Reeves calls from the main floor. It’s his nickname for Dylan. Poor girl. “We gotta get going! Come on!”

“Coming!” Dylan returns. She turns back to me. “I already put Frankie’s terrarium in your room on the nightstand, and his food is in the freezer.”

I blanch. The thought alone is enough to give me the heebie jeebies. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“We’ve been through this a hundred times.”

Throwing my hands into the air, I whine, “Well, you’ll have to forgive my brain for dealing with trauma by blocking it from my memory!”

“Finley,” she whines.

My bottom lip juts out, and I sigh, resigning myself to the inevitable. “Fine. I’ll watch your stupid frog.”

“And?” she prods.

“ And I’ll make sure he survives.”

She heaves a relieved breath and squeezes my bicep. “Thank you.”

“But I make no guarantees about my own safety, and if he kills me in the middle of the night,”—I wiggle my finger an inch from her button nose—“I will haunt you until your dying breath.”

Her grin grows. “Deal. Come on.” We pass the room she shares with Reeves as she tugs me to the stairs and down to the main floor, where the rest of our friends wait. Packed bags are scattered in the family room, and I nearly choke on my loneliness as I take it all in. They’re leaving. They’re all leaving. I thought I wanted the house to myself so I could make a plan and have a full-blown meltdown without any witnesses, but now that it’s here, and I really am going to be all by myself for a week, it feels…hollow almost.

My eyes well with unshed tears, and I race toward Everett. He’s standing next to Raine, his official and very not fake girlfriend. They really are cute together, and I’m not going to lie. I like her. I really do. But right now, I need a hug from my big brother. Throwing my arms around his waist, I squeeze Everett as tight as I can without giving a shit how it may or may not make me look like a wackadoodle. I need him, though. I need his strength if I’m going to get through this.

How am I going to get through this?

Not the week without anyone. I’m not that much of a baby. No, I mean the actual baby. The one I have a hunch is growing inside of me. That baby. How am I going to get through being a mom? I’m too young for this. I’m too young and too busy and too… young . Yes, I know I said it twice, but it’s kind of a big factor here. Everett’s arms hang limply at his sides for a solid two seconds until he wraps them around me, returning my hug.

“Hey, you okay?” he murmurs against the top of my head.

Oh, the things I could say.

“Yes, you big butthead,” I voice aloud. “I’m going to miss you, is all.”

His chuckle is warm and throaty as he squeezes me one more time. “You could’ve come.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know I shouldn’t have used up all my travel points on visiting Drew, okay?” Boy, do I regret it now , I silently add as the pregnancy test burns a hole in my back pocket. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be anything. I only want to curl into a ball and cry.

“The good news is you won’t be alone anymore,” Everett offers, cutting through my spiraling thoughts.

I pull away from my brother, my brows wrinkling. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Griffin’s staying here.”

Frowning, I search the room for my brother’s best friend. The man who has caused so many issues in my relationship with Drew it isn’t even funny, and he has no idea. Okay, maybe he has a teeny tiny idea since I told him we can’t be friends anymore, but I digress. He’s the man who, for all intents and purposes, hates me. The man who’s currently staring at my back pocket like it’s a snake’s head. I tug at the hem of my sweater, covering my jean-clad ass and the pregnancy test still most definitely burning a hole in my back pocket.

“You’re staying?” I ask.

Dragging his attention from my backside, he folds his arms and leans his shoulder against the wall. “Appears so.”

“Why?”

“Lost a bet.”

Reeves chuckles, and my glare cuts to him before I turn back to Griffin. “Are you serious?”

“Is it a problem for you, Fin?” he challenges. His gaze sweeps along my body in a half-bored gesture. “Or maybe it’s a problem for Drew.”

My nostrils flare, and I open my mouth to bite the guy’s head off when Everett butts in.

“Finley, relax. He didn’t lose a bet, all right? Something came up, and he doesn’t want to jinx shit. Sometimes, things just work out.”

My molars grind, and I face my brother again. “Did you pay Griffin to stay home and babysit?”

Everett scoffs. “You really think I’d pay someone to babysit you?”

I cock my head.

“Okay, you’re right,” he concedes. “I would definitely do that, but no. I had nothing to do with Griffin’s change of plans.”

He lifts his hands in defense, but I bat them back down. “Then why’d he change them?”

“Like I said, something came up.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“If you want specifics, you’ll have to ask him, but I gotta go so I don’t miss the flight. I’ll text when we land.” Shifting around me, he heads toward the door with the rest of our friends following, each of them stealing one final hug as they head outside.

With a quiet click, the front door closes behind Maverick, leaving me alone with the one person I want nothing to do with.

Marching toward him, I demand, “Why’d your plans change?”

His brows lift. “I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”

“Why did your plans change?” I repeat, not bothering to hide my aggression. So, sue me.

“What’s in your back pocket?”

My body freezes, and I reach for the stupid test, pressing my hand to it as if it’ll make the damn thing disappear. “Nothing.”

“I saw it, Fin,” Griffin counters. Pushing himself away from the wall, his eyes narrow in suspicion. “What is it?”

“A thermometer,” I blurt out. “I haven’t been feeling one hundred percent, and I figured if Everett knew, he’d call my parents, and they’d freak out, or better yet, he’d insist on staying home and making sure I’m okay, and I didn’t want him to worry, which is also why I was suspicious of you deciding to stay home out of the blue.”

Damn, I’m a good liar.

Sometimes, I even impress myself.

“Speaking of which,” I fold my arms, “why’d you decide to stay if it wasn’t to nurse me back to health? Everyone’s been gushing about this trip of a lifetime for weeks, that, by some miracle, you were able to squeeze in between games.”

Ignoring my question, he asks one of his own. “How are you feeling? Dizzy or anything? ”

“I’m not going to have a seizure, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking,” he counters. “And are you sure?”

Sometimes, I hate my diagnosis. Epilepsy isn’t for the faint of heart, and even though my mom has the same neurological disease and held my hand through all the ups and downs, it doesn’t make it easier. The looks of pity. Concern. The kid gloves people use with me. Like right now. With the look in Griffin’s eyes, you’d think I told him I might puke all over the floor.

“You know, if you get to dodge my questions, I don’t see why I can’t dodge yours,” I argue. “Why’d you decide to skip the trip?”

“Not sure I owe you anything after your boyfriend’s little ultimatum,” he counters.

My lips press into a thin line as I stare up at him. Yeah, I’m short. Like can-I-put-her-in-my-pocket short. But even if I wasn’t, Griffin would still tower over me. All the guys do. Then again, I’m pretty sure being built like a brick wall is a prerequisite for being a hockey player, so it’s not like he’s anything special, but what do I know?

That’s right. Way too much, thanks to growing up with uncles who played in the NHL professionally and passed along their obsession with the sport to all their kids. Well, except for Tatum and me. Tatum is Ophelia’s little sister and one of my younger cousins. But I digress.

“You still letting Drew call all the shots, Fin?” Griffin demands.

“You really think I let anyone call the shots?”

“The old Finley wouldn’t have. This one, though?” His stone-cold gaze flicks over my body. “You tell me.”

This is the most we’ve spoken since SeaBird. And considering his chilly yet white-hot expression, I’m gonna say, even though I’ve missed him, I think I prefer the silence over this. I want to call him out. I want to tell him he’s wrong, and I’m still the strong, independent woman who doesn’t let anyone push her around, but lately? Lately, I’m not so sure. And that’s…that’s a problem for another day. I dig my teeth into the inside of my cheek and squeeze the pregnancy test in my grasp. It’s still hidden in my back pocket. Still nauseatingly light considering how heavy its result might be. You’d think the weight of my future would be heavier, but nope. The thing is flimsy and plastic.

Reading my silence as stubbornness, Griffin rocks back on his heels. “That’s what I thought. Don’t have a seizure,” he warns. “And if you start to feel shittier, I’ll be in my room.”

His gait is familiar as he walks away. Like this is simply another day in the life of Griffin Thorne. And maybe it is. Maybe he’s used to putting up with me and my stubbornness. Especially lately. But watching him leave? It’ll never get easier, even if it’s something I should be used to by now.

I hate it.