A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

GRIFFIN

T he bags fall with a heavy thud as deja vu washes over me. There are two beds this time, and my tired body sags with relief. Finley’s eyes are bloodshot. The skin surrounding them is puffy and red from crying.

Despite her meltdown when Frankie escaped into her room, I’ve only seen the girl cry a handful of times. One time, when Dylan accidentally lit Finley’s favorite Barbie on fire, and once when she woke up from a bad seizure. Oh, and let’s not forget about the time Aunt Mia convinced us to watch Marley and Me on a projector screen in their backyard. Yeah, that movie was a bitch, and Fin wasn’t the only one misty-eyed on the grass. Then there was the night we found out about Archer’s accident, and I watched helplessly as Everett held her in his arms while she sobbed until her voice was gone. The memory is enough to make my throat tighten, but I push it aside.

As I look over at her, my hands itch to hold her now. To promise everything’s going to be okay, even though I have no idea whether or not it’s true .

After our conversation in the car, she went back to being a mime. I get it, though. She has a lot to think about. A lot to process. A lot to consider.

She doesn’t climb into bed like I expect. Instead, she silently digs through her bag for her toothbrush and medicine, then closes the bathroom door behind her. Situating Frankie on the credenza, I pull the covers back, put on a pair of basketball shorts, and change places with Finley. Once my teeth are brushed, I open the bathroom door, finding a lump on the nearest mattress.

“Did you take your medicine?” I ask.

“Yes.”

Not a “Yes, Dad” or “Did you take your medicine?” or any other snarky response. Just…yes.

Flicking off the lights, I climb into the opposite bed, ignoring the worry settling in my stomach as I reach for the covers and pull the itchy cotton fabric on top of me. I need to sleep. I need to stop thinking about what Finley said in the car. I need to get out of my own head and make a game plan for the future. Finley’s future.

Her quiet voice cuts through the silence and my ears perk. “Hey, Griff?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you… Man, I sound so pathetic,” she mutters under her breath, but it’s laced with a sad amusement, too. Melancholy almost.

“Tell me,” I push.

“Can you…hold me?”

My chest squeezes, and I shift toward her, but she’s already out of her bed, slipping beneath the white comforter on my own without waiting for my response. I’ve always liked that about her. The way she takes what she wants without remorse. Even when we were kids, and she didn’t feel like watching Ophelia play hockey with the rest of the guys, she would hide everyone’s gear and wouldn’t tell us where it was until we’d give in and do what she wanted for an hour. It used to drive me nuts. Now, I envy it. Admire it, even.

The irony isn’t lost on me. I’m miles away from where I’m supposed to be, all because I gave in to a pretty girl’s request. I should be preparing for a very important meeting with the General Manager of the Tornadoes. Instead, I’m here. Sharing a bed with my best friend’s little sister, and I can’t scrounge up the remorse to regret it.

When Finley’s bare toes brush against my calves, my muscles bunch, but I don’t pull away, letting her steal my warmth as she tucks her icy toes against my flesh. If only she knew how much more I’d be willing to give her if she asked for it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

The scent of lavender clings to her dark hair and tickles my nostrils as I try to keep myself in check. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Yes, I do.” She twists in my arms and faces me, bringing us nose to nose. Reaching up, she drags her fingertips against my temple. “There’s always been a we, hasn’t there?”

My heart ratchets, and I wet my bottom lip but stay quiet.

“I’m sorry for taking it for granted,” she murmurs. “For taking you for granted.”

Fuck. If she’d stabbed me in the chest, I would’ve felt less. Because it shouldn’t hurt. The reminder of how she chose Drew over our friendship, but it does. If she never became pregnant, would she be here? In my bed? Looking at me like this? Telling me these things?

“You do know you’re kind of perfect, right?” she adds.

Her fingers skate across my scruff, branding me in a way I doubt she’ll ever even know. It takes everything inside of me to not close my eyes. Not to lose myself in this moment. In her touch. In her vulnerability.

“Hardly perfect, Fin,” I mutter.

“Look at that. He's humble, too.” She tacks on a fake-as-shit smile. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always.”

Her fingers tremble against my jaw. “I’m terrified out of my mind, Griff.”

My chest caves with the weight of her words. “It’s going to be all right.”

“You don’t know that. No one knows that,” she clarifies. And I hate how, even without any light, I can still feel her fear. Her insecurities. Her doubts. They cling to her silky skin. Tainting her words. This moment. Everything.

I want to take it all away. I want to bring back the confident, sassy, sarcastic-as-shit Finley. The one I know is hiding, thanks to Drew’s comments from earlier.

“Our families have dealt with surprise pregnancies before, Fin,” I remind her.

“You mean when my parents got pregnant with Ev?” She chuckles, but there isn’t any humor in it. “Not sure the situation’s the same. Especially not anymore. My mom had my dad’s support, and?—”

“And you have your family’s. And your friends’. And mine.”

“You.” She touches the side of my face again, dragging her fingertips from my forehead, along my temple, down my jaw, then brushes them against the edge of my lip. It’s like a feather. Light. Almost non-existent. But I can feel it everywhere. Every. Fucking. Inch of me is like a livewire. And I’m living, eating, breathing for her to do it again. To touch me again. To keep looking at me like this. Like she’s curious. Like she could want me the same way I’ve always wanted her.

“Am I…am I wrong for wanting to keep the baby?” she whispers. “Even though Drew wants nothing to do with it?”

Drew.

I fight the urge to curse his name, forcing my body to relax.

“Drew’s a jackass,” I remind her.

“Drew’s looking at the big picture.”

“Fuck the big picture,” I argue. “Do you want to have this baby?”

Her bottom lip quivers, but her head bobs against the pillow, confirming what I’ve known all along. “Yes. Yes, I want to have this baby.”

“Then you’re gonna have this baby,” I promise. “And they’re gonna be spoiled by everyone around them. Everyone.” My mouth lifts. “Trust me. You might think you’re alone in this, but you aren’t, Fin. You’re not alone.” My gaze falls to her lips. “I’m here.”

“You are.” She wets her lips. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” I repeat. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, she lifts her chin and presses her mouth to mine, surprising the shit out of me. Salt clings to her lips. It muddies the moment I’ve dreamed about for years while only making me crave her more. I could’ve anticipated a thousand scenarios for how tonight would play out, and none of them would’ve included me in bed with Fin. Not like this. It isn’t a soft kiss. It’s doused with need. And desperation. And— fuck . What the hell is going on? I never thought I’d kiss Fin. Not like this. Not without the excuse of a bet or a dare or a game. But this? My muscles flood with restraint as she keeps her mouth pressed to mine, taking what she wants without promising anything in return, and fuck me if I don’t want to let her take it all.

But not yet. Not now. Not when I don’t know if her demons are chasing her or if she’s thinking of Drew. So, even though it kills me, I slow the kiss, pumping the brakes and cupping her cheek as I force myself to pull away.

Confusion swirls in her red-rimmed eyes as she stares at me, her cheeks glistening from fallen tears. “Griff?—”

“Get some sleep,” I rasp. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Griff…”

“Get some sleep,” I repeat. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I force her closer to me, praying she doesn’t misconstrue my actions for rejection. Because that isn’t it. Not in the slightest. But she has to understand where I’m coming from and what this would mean, doesn’t she? She’s sad and heartbroken and overwhelmed, and I can’t take advantage of her. Not tonight. Not after the shit day she’s had.

It doesn’t take long until she gives in, proving I was right to end the kiss because the Finley I know? She would’ve never stopped there if she really wanted more. Her eyelids flutter, and she snuggles into my side, her warm breath seeping into my T-shirt until slowly, finally, she falls asleep.