A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

GRIFFIN

I wake with a groan and cover my eyes with my bicep. “What time is it?”

“Time to wake up, sleepyhead,” Finley says. She sounds farther away than I expect. Forcing my eyelids open, I check the bed, but it’s empty. She’s next to the window, the blackout curtains pulled back, and her long, dark hair damp from what looks like a shower.

“What time did you wake up?” I croak.

Checking the time on her phone, she answers, “About an hour ago,” before slipping her cell back into her pocket. “I’ve showered. I’ve gotten ready. And I’m officially starting my I don’t give a shit, and I need no man era.”

I sit up a little straighter, pressing my back to the headboard. “What?”

“I want to thank you for last night,” she adds. “I really needed…I don’t know. A moment to know I’m not alone or something?” She shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t even know,” she repeats, “but thank you. You seriously gave me exactly what I needed to get through all of this. I even fed Frankie without having a meltdown, and if that isn’t the definition of a strong, independent woman, I don’t know what is.” With a grin, she adds, “I’m going to grab some coffee at the Starbucks down the street. Do you want anything?”

My brows bunch as I study her. “Uh…I’m…good?”

“You sure?” She laughs. “You look tired.”

I’m confused as fuck is what I am.

“Uh,” I scrub my hand over my face. “Are we good?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't we be?”

“Because we kissed last night, and you’re…”

“I’m what?” she asks.

My eyes narrow as I take her in. The perfectly done makeup. The perfectly chosen outfit. The perfectly constructed defenses she’s gathered around herself since I fell asleep with her in my arms. There are pros and cons to knowing someone the way I know Finley. Learning what makes a person tick and what constitutes strange behavior, like the doppelganger in front of me. She might look like Finley and smell like Finley, but she isn’t Fin. Or, at least, not the Fin I consoled last night. No, this is fake-it-til-you-make-it-Fin , and it pisses me off.

“I’ll get you a mocha,” she decides. “Why don’t you shower while I’m gone, then we’ll head out?”

She steps closer to the hotel’s door, but as she scoots around the edge of the bed, I reach out and grab her wrist, keeping her in place.

“Fin,” I say.

She looks down at where I’m touching her. “Yes?”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s. Going. On?” I repeat.

“Are you going to cut me off again, or are you going to let me talk?” she demands, stubborn as ever.

I let her go and lift my knee, resting my forearm against it as I stare up at her as if to say, “The floor’s all yours. ”

With a huff, she flips her hair over her shoulder. “Like I said, nothing is going on.”

I wait a solid ten seconds, but the girl’s mute. “That’s it?”

“Not sure what else you want me to say,” she hedges.

“You broke up with your long-term boyfriend last night.”

“I’m well aware, thank you.”

“And you kissed your brother’s best friend.”

“ And it was good,” she quips. “Like, really good. You have one talented mouth, and I’m not trying to blow smoke up your ass, either. Bravo, Griffin.” She gives me a slow clap. “Anything else?”

“Not gonna ask why I ended the kiss?”

“Nope.”

I hold her stare, waiting for her to cave, even though I know she won’t. “You know, for someone who’s hella chatty, you're good at dodging questions while saying nothing at all.”

“I’m not dodging anything,” she argues. “Everything you said is true, but there’s no use crying about any of it or overanalyzing any of it, so why bother discussing any of it?” Her shoulder lifts. “Hot or iced?”

“What’s going on, Fin?” I push. “We kissed last night, you slept in my arms, and now?—”

“Now, it’s time to get going,” she interrupts.

I hesitate, trying to get my mind to…wake up or something because shit isn’t making any sense, and neither is Finley’s stiff posture. I ask, “So, we’re gonna pretend like nothing happened?”

“Nothing did happen,” she defends. “Look, last night was…exactly what I needed. Thank you,” she adds with a genuine smile. “But I just got out of a long-term relationship, you're my brother’s best friend who’s going to be li ving across the country within the next six months, and I’m going to be a single mom by the end of the summer, so…that’s that, don’t you think?”

“That’s that ?” I repeat. Seriously, did I enter the Twilight Zone ? She was sad. She asked me to hold her. We both crossed a line, and yeah, I slowed things down, but now, she’s gonna act like it was nothing? Even if she’s hesitant to commit to anything or is hurt that I pumped the brakes, which I understand, the blasé attitude messes with my head.

“Yeah. That’s that,” she returns. Her stormy gaze shoots around the room as she flaps her hands through the air. “I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t even want anything from you.”

“You don’t.” It isn’t a question, but fuck if I’d like some actual answers right now.

She. Kissed. Me.

Clenching the sheets around my waist, I try not to lose my shit as I hold her gaze.

“Nope. I don’t want anything from you.” She forces her attention to stay pinned on me, her eye twitching. “Except for you to hop in the shower so we can get on the road as quickly as possible. I think the real question is, why are you still lying in bed, lazy bones?”

The girl’s so transparent she might as well be glass. And yeah, she’s being genuine right now, but something spooked her. Something put her on edge. I just can’t figure out what. I know she probably kissed me because she was sad and wanted to be held, which is why I pulled away. I know she would never expect me to jump into a relationship with her, let alone ask me to. But this? This flippant replay, lack of expectation, and aversion to anything real feel…off.

Sometimes, this woman makes me feel like a yo-yo. Like she can pull me in and push me away but always keep me on a string, ready for her beck and call, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s infuriating.

Did it really mean nothing?

“Fine.” I pull the covers off and walk my ass to the shower. And even though I can feel her stare on me as I leave, I know she won’t do anything about it.

It’s Finley fucking Taylor.

Why did I expect anything different?