A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

GRIFFIN

A s I pull on a fresh T-shirt from my closet, I try to erase the image of Finley’s naked body pressed against me. Her warmth. The way her long black hair hung in ropes down her back. The way her lips parted as she begged for my help. And then, the sight of her in nothing but my T-shirt? Fuck. Kill me now. My cock stirs at the reminder, and I squeeze it angrily through my jeans. That was…a mistake. And the last thing I needed if I want to keep my head on straight. I need to calm the hell down, but being alone in a house with her isn’t exactly a walk in the park. I swear, the woman drives me insane.

A loud thud echoes from the ceiling. My head snaps up toward the second floor, and my body surges with adrenaline. “Fin?”

Silence.

Striding down the hall, I call out, “Fin?”

The same eerie silence greets me. I grab the railing and pull myself up the stairs as fear licks up my spine. “Fin!” I yell.

My heavy footsteps thud against the floor as I dash toward the room at the end of the hall. When I round the corner, my throat clogs and my fingertips turn white against the doorjamb, gripping the surface until my hands ache while my mind short-circuits at the sight.

Finley. On the ground.

Fuck, Finley’s on the ground. She’s?—

Move!

I race closer, falling to my knees. Finley’s convulsing. Her body wracking with uncontrollable and violent shakes. Being friends with Finley means receiving a lecture about what to do if she seizes. I search my memory for Uncle Mack’s instructions, but my mind is a fucking mess.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I rub my hand over my head, feeling so fucking helpless, I could vomit as I watch her helplessly.

Focus, asshole!

Make sure there isn’t anything she can bump into. That’s the first rule. I look around the room, but she isn’t close to any chairs or anything. The dresser is far enough from her, too. Satisfied, I pull my phone out and start timing the seizure. My hand shakes as I push the start button. I set it on the ground and run my hands through my hair again, watching her body flop and jolt on the carpet. Her muscles tighten and spasm, pulling her in awkward directions.

Was it the frog? Is that what triggered her? Maybe it was me. I never should’ve been an ass like I was to her. So what if she wants Drew instead of a friendship with me? As long as she’s safe and healthy, and?—

I check the time on the phone again. It’s been four minutes. I try to calm my breathing while dialing Finley’s dad’s number.

“Hello?” he answers .

“We’re at four minutes,” I rush out. “Fin’s having a seizure.”

“Have you called an ambulance?”

I shake my head until I remember he can’t see me. “N-no.”

“Four minutes?” he questions.

“Y-yeah. Four and a half?—”

“Call an ambulance. We’ll meet you at the hospital.”

I hang up the phone without saying goodbye and dial nine-one-one.

As it rings, I look down at Finley. Her eyes are rolled back, only the whites are visible, and her long dark hair is a web of black across her face. The imagery shakes me to my core, and I blink back the tears in my eyes.

Fuck!

Please let her be okay.

I had to lie to the paramedics about my relationship with Fin so they would let me ride with her in the ambulance. Not that I cared about technicalities. We might not be seeing each other romantically, but I do love her, and seeing her like that? Shit. She seized for over six minutes. Longest damn minutes of my life. She’s asleep now. Resting my elbows on my knees, I lace my fingers together and stare at the white tile, waiting for the doctor to arrive. They already took her blood. Now, they’re letting her rest. Uncle Mack and Aunt Kate should be here any minute. We’ve been texting back and forth since the ambulance.

“Knock, knock,” someone calls, and a man in a white lab coat appears. “Hey, I’m Dr. Nordick.”

“I’m Griffin. Nice to meet you. ”

“You, too.” He glances at the hospital bed. “How’s our patient doing?”

I follow his gaze, taking in the sleeping girl with cords strapped to her chest. “You tell me.”

“Well, the tests all look good. I’d love to do a quick ultrasound to make sure the baby’s okay, though.”

Buzzing hits my ears, and I tear my focus from Finley to the doctor again. “What?”

“I said, the tests look good, and Finley’s hormones look like they’re where they need to be, as well, but I’d love to do a quick ultrasound to make sure the baby’s okay. Congratulations, by the way. You must be excited.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh, I?—”

“She didn’t tell you yet?” Dr. Nordick questions.

I shake my head. “Uh, no.”

“I apologize,” he rushes out. “I assumed?—”

“No worries. I’m, uh, I’m really excited.” I clear my throat, wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans, and stand up. “Let me just…can you give me a minute so I can wake her up for the ultrasound?”

“Yes, of course. Also, I think her seizure was most likely triggered by her rapidly changing hormones. Once she's awake, I'd like to get her permission to consult with her neurologist regarding any medication adjustments.”

“Whatever Finley thinks.”

He nods. “Perfect. We’ll be back in a few minutes with the ultrasound machine.”

I force a smile, then turn to Finley and scrub my hand over my face.

What. The actual. Fuck?

She’s pregnant? How could she be—why would she—fuck!

My mind races, my thoughts blurring together, one after another, until it’s almost impossible to form a single coherent thought without it getting swept away by the next. Pregnant? How far along is she? Does she know? Is that why she’s staying with the dipshit? Does he know? Does her family? Shit, when Everett finds out, he’s gonna kill Drew. Fuck, I might do it myself.

I glance at Finley’s still body again. The steady rise and fall of her chest. Her stomach. The urge to press my hand against it hits out of nowhere, and I squeeze my hands into fists, caught between awe and disappointment. I just can’t figure out why.

At least she’s okay. At least she’s safe. The reminder spurs me on and quiets my racing thoughts. One hurdle at a time. The chair legs scrape against the linoleum floor as I drag it closer to the bed. Her arms lie limply on the mattress. Her skin looks like silk. Feels like silk, too. I should know. I felt it firsthand this afternoon.

She needs to wake up. She needs to have a fucking ultrasound.

Gently, I drag my fingertip against the outside of her wrist and murmur, “Fin? Hey, Fin, wake up.”

Her eyelids flicker, and her dazed eyes blink slowly before focusing. When they land on me, relief fills them, and she lifts her hand, touching her temple. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I rasp.

“What happened?”

“You had a seizure.”

Her expression pinches, and she nods. “Makes sense.”

I smile at her easy acceptance. “How are you feeling?”

“Headache.” She swallows. “Dry mouth.”

I reach for a styrofoam cup one of the nurses delivered a little while ago and offer it to her. She takes it and steals a sip, her dry lips wrapping around the straw as silence fills the room.

“Thanks,” she whispers .

“The doctor wants to do an ultrasound.”

“A what?” She stares into her water, her brows stitched in confusion, and I can’t tell if it’s because she doesn’t know about the baby or if the aftereffects from the seizure are still messing with her memory. They say it’s normal. To be disoriented. To feel like your brain and your thoughts are as shaken as your body.

“The baby’s fine, but they want to do an ultrasound to make sure.”

Her eyes cut to me, and whatever fog of confusion had been present vanishes. Panic. That’s what replaces it. Sheer. Fucking. Panic.

“Did you know?” I ask.

“Griff…”

“Does he know?” I push.

Her bottom lip wobbles, and she pulls it into her mouth, shaking her head. Honestly, I’m surprised. Not that Drew’s in the dark, but that she’s on the verge of tears.

I get it. Having a baby is a pretty big deal and shit, but Fin? The girl’s an anchor. Well, unless frogs are involved. And I can’t help but want to protect her from the impending tornado headed her way. Especially when I’m given a glimpse of the girl behind the impenetrable walls. The girl who’s scared. The girl who’s lying in a hospital bed, her skin practically matching the white sheets lying across her lap and an IV hooked into the inside of her elbow. The girl who isn’t quite as put together as she’d like the world to believe.

And a fucking kid? Yeah, I’d say it’s a doozy.

“Knock, knock.” The sound grates on me as my attention snaps to the doorway. There’s a woman in dark purple scrubs with light brown hair and a kind smile. “I’m Allie,” she adds. “I’ll be performing the ultrasound.”

“H-hi,” Finley offers .

“Do you have any idea when your last period was?” Allie asks as she steps into the room, dragging an ultrasound machine with her and, apparently, getting right down to business.

Finley shakes her head again. “I’m, uh, I’m not super consistent on the period front thanks to my medication, so…”

“Got it.” The ultrasound tech gives her a reassuring smile. “No worries at all. We might need to do the ultrasound vaginally, depending on how early you are. Is that okay with you?”

“Uh…I mean, who wouldn’t want a vaginal ultrasound?” She forces an awkward smile. “Sounds like quite the experience to me.”

Allie laughs. “You’re gonna be a fun patient. I can tell.” Fiddling with the machine, she adds, “We’ll start with the external ultrasound and see what we get. Sound good?”

“Sure, why not?”

“If you’ll lift your gown for me but keep your lower half under the sheets, we’ll get started.”

“Perfect.” Finley shifts the fabric around her waist, grabbing the edge of the gown and situating the white sheet to cover her lower half while exposing her stomach to the ultrasound technician.

Tearing my attention from the sliver of skin, I clear my throat.

I shouldn’t be here. Drew should. The reminder fucks with my head. Or maybe it’s the truth bomb in general. Fin’s pregnant? Finley’s fucking pregnant. And here I am, nothing but an observer. An observer who has no right to be here. So, why am I here?

“I’ll, uh, I’ll wait outside.” I stand and head to the door so Fin can have some privacy and I can have a minute to wrap my head around shit. I always knew it would never work between us. I even said as much to Raine when she asked about my feelings for Finley a while ago. And I wasn’t lying, either. Not really. But I guess I thought…or at least a small piece of me thought…maybe…someday, if the stars aligned, and we were in the same place, and Drew was out of the picture, and Everett didn’t have a stick up his ass…maybe…fuck, I don’t know.

Finley’s pregnant.

“Griff?” she calls.

I pause by the door and face her. “Yeah?”

“Are my parents on their way?”

I nod.

“Don’t…don’t tell them, okay? Please?”

The request guts me, twisting like a knife in my stomach, but I nod anyway. “Our little secret, right?”

Relief shines in her gray eyes, and she dips her chin. “Add it to the list. And thank you.”

“I’ll be outside.”

When I start to step over the threshold, she stops me once more. “Hey, Griff?”

“Yeah, Fin?” I face her again, my body caught between fight or flight. Part of me wants to shake her for not telling me. For not telling anyone . The other wants to pull her into a hug and promise everything’s going to be okay and remind her she doesn’t need to put on a brave face. Not for me. But I won’t do either because neither is my place. Especially when she pushed me away and chose Drew over me.

Then again, now that the cat’s out of the bag, I get it. Of course, she would. She should. Shouldn’t she? Not that there was anything to choose in the first place. All I’ll ever be to Finley Taylor is her brother’s best friend. And Fin? All she’ll ever be is the one who got away .

“Can you…” Finley lifts one of her shoulders in a half-assed shrug. “Can you be a peach and stay with me?”

My chest constricts, but I step back into the room and take a seat where I was as the ultrasound tech sets up her machine.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t fucking be here. Pulling out my phone, I send a quick text to Finley’s parents, telling them to wait in the waiting room. They respond almost instantly and promise to do exactly that without bothering to ask any follow-up questions.

I know Uncle Mack and Aunt Kate well enough to know there will be an onslaught of questions once we’re face to face, though. I make a mental note to come up with a solid reason why they can’t come into the room for later. We’ll need it.

As I start to tuck my phone back into my pocket, Finley reaches for me and grabs my wrist, surprising the shit out of me. Because this girl doesn’t have a weak bone in her body. Fuck, I saw her convulsing on the floor an hour ago, and when she came to, she didn’t even bat an eye, taking the situation on the chin like a seasoned pro. Yet, here she is, holding my hand, clinging to me, showing the tiniest hint of unease about what’s unfolding in front of us.

A thousand questions sit on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t ask any of them. Not yet. Not until we’re alone.

Acid coats my throat as I stare at our entwined hands. The way she’s holding onto me. The way her hand looks wrapped in mine. In a different world, I could’ve been excited for this moment.

Now? Now, I feel like I might vomit.