A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

GRIFFIN

A fter Finley’s settled in the passenger seat, I close the SUV’s door and round the front, glancing at the building one more time. Drew’s watching from the bedroom window, his expression unreadable. I give him the bird as I climb behind the steering wheel and crank the engine.

Motherfucker.

I can’t believe he’d say shit like that. To anyone, let alone someone he’s supposed to love. They’ve been together for years, and this is how he feels about her? I flex my hands against the steering wheel. I should’ve broken down the door and beat the shit out of him until he couldn’t walk.

“How’s your hand?” I ask.

“Stings.”

The word is so…hollow. So unlike Finley that if I had a gun pressed to my temple, I’d say it didn’t belong to her. But it does. It’s all Finley. Just not…the girl I was raised with. No, this one’s broken. Dejected. Fucked, if I’m being brut ally honest. We all know the statistics. The possibility of slipping one past the goalie. Of winding up pregnant or knocking someone up. I never would’ve thought it would be Finley, though. The girl plans everything out. Every outfit. Every assignment. Every fucking thing to the smallest of details. What’s she going to do now?

Unable to help myself, I steal a glance at her. She’s staring at her lap, her hands pressed against her stomach. Her hair has fallen forward and shields most of her face from view. I don’t miss the quiet sniffle, though. This girl doesn’t cry. Not unless frogs are involved. The organ in my chest squeezes.

“I, uh, I’m sorry he didn’t take the news like we’d hoped.”

“We.” A quiet scoff escapes her, and she wipes at her face.

“Yeah.” I shift closer, reach around her still body, and grab her seatbelt, slowly clicking into place beside her hip. The sound reverberates through the silent cab, and she peeks at me, proving just how close we really are, dragging me back to all those years ago in her family room when she ditched me to hang out with Drew. I should’ve kissed her then. Maybe it would’ve saved her from the path she’s on. Or maybe she’d still be here, but I wouldn’t be. Different shades of gray and smoke and navy swirl in her glassy eyes, making them almost glow as she stares up at me…helpless. I was right. She’s crying.

“ We ,” I emphasize.

“There is no we,” she reminds me. “There is no me and anyone.” Her eyes fall to her lap again, and she sniffs quietly, her focus on the conversation hazy at best. She’s giving in. Drowning in Drew’s words. Letting them take her over .

A knife twists inside of me as I take her in. Beautiful. Broken. I should give her space. I should sit back in my seat instead of crowding her. I should stop letting her red-rimmed gaze tug at my sternum. I should do a lot of things.

She’s Everett’s little sister.

Everett’s. Little. Sister.

And right now, this isn’t about my feelings for her. This is about Finley and her baby. They’re all that matter. All that will ever matter. Nudging her chin with my knuckle, I force her to look at me. “You’re not alone. What about your family? And Dylan? And Ophelia? And Raine?”

Her bottom lip trembles.

“And me?” I push. “What about me, Fin?”

Her eyes fall to my mouth before flicking back to my gaze, and she pulls away from my touch, gutting me in the process.

“We should start driving,” she whispers. “It’s a long way back.”

The clicking of the blinker finally does me in. It’s been four hours. Four fucking hours of silence. By now, it’s burrowed under my skin, leaving me raw and itchy and uncomfortable and frustrated. So fucking frustrated. Part of me wants to turn the car around. To barge into Drew’s place, drag him out by his polo, and beat the ever loving shit out of him. Honestly, imagining it has been the best way to pass the time since drowning in Finley’s silence wasn’t flying. After the shit he said to Fin, he’d deserve every single hit. He’s lucky he’s still breathing. I fist the steering wheel, imagining all the ways I could kill him if we lived in a world without consequences .

“How do you get rid of a body?” I ask.

Her glassy eyes shoot to me. “What?”

“I said, how do you get rid of a body?” My eyes shoot to hers for a quick second then return to the crowded freeway. “You’re the criminal mastermind, not me.”

Her lips twitch. “Are you offering to kill Drew for me?”

I nod. “Happily. Do you think limb by limb is too gruesome, or should I just hit him with my car?”

A pathetic laugh slips out of her, and she wipes beneath her eyes. “I think limb by limb sounds pretty good right about now, actually.”

“I can do that.” I give her a smile. “Although, you’ll have to help me get rid of the evidence.”

“Another pro to ripping him into pieces,” she offers. “You know, since he won’t be so heavy, and I’ll actually be able to contribute physically.”

With a rumble of laughter, I reach across the center console and squeeze her knee. “I like your thinking.”

Staring at my hand on her knee, she whispers, “Can I ask you something?”

I nod. “Anything.”

“Who was your first?”

My brows stitch. “My first?”

“Yeah, your, uh, your first…taco.”

“Taco?” I hesitate until her meaning sinks in, and my eyes widen. “You mean who’s the first girl I had sex with?”

She nods.

I laugh a little louder and let her knee go. We’ve talked about sexual stuff in the past. I mean, what else would you expect after a few beers and games like Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever. But like this? Without our friends around and no one to buffer the situation? It’s new, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I’m caught between my own curiosity and the line we’ve drawn in the sand when it comes to all things sexual long before this road trip. “You really want to know?”

She shrugs but stays quiet.

“Seriously?”

“You’re right. It’s a stupid question.”

“Not a stupid question,” I argue. “Just a…surprising one.” I give her the side-eye and find her stormy gaze focused solely on me. Like she’s hanging on to my every word. The silence drives me crazy. Part of me wants to pry. To ask the why behind her off-the-wall question. The other part? I guess I’m just grateful she’s not still consumed by her conversation with Drew.

With a smirk, I answer, “My first was Jenna…Ortega.”

She smacks my shoulder. “I’m being serious!”

“Hey, you’re the one who said she had kissable lips. No need to be jealous.”

Rolling her still-watery eyes, she mutters, “Whatever. Forget I asked.”

“All right, all right,” I concede, determined to keep her talking instead of silently losing her shit in my passenger seat. “My first really was named Jenna, though.”

Her lips purse like she doesn’t believe me. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” I say with a laugh. “Her name was Jenna Galinski. Junior year. You?”

“Drew.” She shifts in her seat. “Junior year.”

I nod, unsure what to say. I guess I always assumed Drew was her first and only, but hearing it out loud? The reminder that he owns a piece of her she’ll never get back, especially after the shit he put her through today? It’s sobering and makes me want to turn the SUV around all over again .

Staring out the windshield, Fin whispers, “Did you love her?”

“Jenna?” I pause, then shake my head. “Not sure I’ve ever been in love, Fin.”

“Did you think you were in love with her?” she prods.

Lifting my shoulder, I admit, “Honestly? Not really. I know it makes me sound like a dick, but…there it is.”

She gives me a slow nod and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Hmm.”

“Hmm?” I repeat, casting her another quick glance.

“I guess it makes sense,” she murmurs. “Considering the fact that you’ve never really had a girlfriend.”

She’s right. I haven’t. My parents have even asked once or twice over the years. Why I haven’t seriously dated anyone. Why I haven’t given anyone a chance. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve spent plenty of time hooking up with girls and shit, but actual dating? I don’t know. I always told myself—and anyone who bothered to ask—that I was focusing on my career in the NHL, and I’d take dating seriously down the road, but the truth is, hockey’s always been the priority. The focus. I’d resent it if I didn’t love it so much. The game. The adrenaline. The high.

Besides, finding a girl who’s okay with all the traveling and the possibility of uprooting their life at the drop of a hat to move from one city to the next because of a trade is slim to none. I should know. I was raised in this life, thanks to my dad. Saw how much it affected my mom, and me, and my siblings. And we were the lucky ones. The ones who got to stay in Lockwood Heights. But even then, I remember the away games. The missed parent-teacher conferences. The empty seats at my own hockey games, all because my dad was traveling. It isn’t easy. Expecting someone to sign up for that kind of life. Add to the fact that I’m aware of where my priorities lie, and…I guess I’ve never seen the point of it all.

“Why settle down when you know they aren’t the one?” I finally offer.

She nods again. “How many…since Jenna Galinski?”

I pull back, surprised. “Are you asking for my body count?”

“You’re right. It’s weird.” She shakes her head. “Forget I asked.”

Forget she asked? Not a fucking chance.

“Why so curious?” I prod.

“It’s just…” She tucks her feet under her ass and sits cross-legged in the passenger seat, facing me. “I’ve only ever been with Drew, and now that I’m going to be a single mom, my body’s going to change, and I’m going to be super busy, and…”

Giving her the side-eye, I ask, “Are you afraid you’ll never get laid again, Finley Taylor?”

A light blush hits her cheeks as she fiddles with her earring. “That’s not what I meant…”

“You sure?” My dick twitches in my jeans, and I shift in my seat, squeezing the steering wheel until my knuckles are white. I never thought I’d have a conversation with Finley about shit like this. Up until I heard her masturbate a few days ago, I was convinced we’d never broach this subject.

The funny thing about Finley is she’s never been shy. Never been humble, even. The girl’s confident in everything she does. Seeing her vulnerable like this? Seeing the cogs in her Pandora’s box of a brain is…refreshing, almost. And fuck, if I don’t want to open it and see what’s inside.

“I just don’t know what to expect, that’s all,” she finally argues. “I’ve only ever been with Drew, and then when you add in everything else my future holds, you can’t blame me for feeling like I can kiss any kind of physical relationship goodbye for the foreseeable future. So, sue me.”

“Trust me, Fin,” I rasp. “Any guy would be lucky to make your coffee, let alone hold your hand and…all the other stuff.” My mouth lifts. “You’re gonna be okay.”

She gulps and looks down at her stomach again. “Sure, we will.”