A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

FINLEY

A s one of my coworkers sets glasses of water in front of everyone, Dylan drags her drink closer to her chest and asks, “So, Rory. It’s been a while. I haven’t seen you at my brother’s lately. How’s life?”

Ophelia blanches and shakes her head, confirming my theory about our dear, sweet little Squeaks making a move on Jaxon Thorne.

Dylan cocks her head, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. “What?” she asks.

“Anyway,” Ophelia drags out. “Who’s gonna ride the bull later?”

There’s a mechanical bull named Bruce who’s basically famous at this point, yet isn’t half as interesting as Ophelia’s weird response or Rory’s pale complexion.

“Squeaks, you good?” I prod.

“Yup,” she mutters, avoiding everyone’s gaze like her life depends on it.

Interesting.

Especially because Rory’s basically been Jaxon’s sidekick and biggest cheerleader since before she could even walk. Yeah, there’s quite the age gap, but he’s the only one she’s been able to stand being around since Archer’s death, and the fact that she hasn’t been around Jaxon much lately is…really strange.

“Did something…happen?” I question.

“Nothing’s happened,” Lia rushes out. “I’m sure Jax has just been busy, you know?”

“I thought Squeaks was the one who’s been ditching Jax,” Dylan interjects.

Ophelia’s head falls forward in defeat, and Squeaks juts out her bottom lip, her eyes welling with tears.

It’d be surprising if Squeaks wasn’t…Squeaks. The girl’s been a crier since birth. Seriously, I almost feel sorry for her. Not because I think she’s weak but because I know she thinks she’s weak due to her inability to tamp down her emotions like the rest of us. Honestly, I kind of envy it. The way she’s so genuine, wearing her heart on her sleeve come hell or high water. So much so I’m pretty sure the girl could be a mermaid for how often the waterworks hit her.

She sniffs and wipes angrily at her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Hey.” Lia gives me a warning look and reaches over, touching Rory’s hand. “I know Fin can be kind of pushy, but she didn’t know she was touching on such a sore subject.”

I open my mouth to argue that I most definitely did know I was touching on a sore subject, but Ophelia kicks me beneath the table, and my mouth snaps closed.

“It’s okay.” Rory twists the napkin in front of her, letting the tears tumble freely down her cheeks. “I just…I feel so stupid, you know?”

“What happened?” Tatum prods, surprising everyone else at the table. The girl’s barely said two words since biting off Ophelia’s head in the car. Then again, she’s probably grateful the spotlight isn’t on her for once, but what do I know?

“I, uh,” Rory rolls her glassy eyes. “I tried to kiss Jax.”

Dylan’s jaw drops, and Raine elbows her.

“It’s not a big deal,” Lia adds. “And Jax didn’t return it, obviously?—”

Rory squeaks a cry and covers her face with her hands. “Obviously?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Lia says, trying to comfort her.

“Now, who’s the one putting their foot in their mouth,” I mutter under my breath.

Tatum scoffs. “It isn’t Lia’s fault she doesn’t have a heart. She’s never experienced unrequited love, so?—”

“I did love Archer,” Ophelia snaps. Dylan jumps in surprise and scoots closer to me as Lia turns her glare on Tatum. “Okay?” Her expression twists with pain and anger and remorse. She slaps her hands against the table, leaning closer to Tatum. “I loved the shit out of him, and if you would just let me explain everything instead of shutting me out and painting me as the villain when I already feel like shit as it is?—”

“Hey, are you ready to order?” Mindy, the waitress, asks before realizing exactly the kind of shitshow she just stepped in. Clicking the back of her pen, she clears her throat and hooks her thumb over her shoulder. “I can always come back…?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Squeaks chokes out. Her bottom lip wobbles. “I’m not very hungry.”

“Neither am I,” Tatum decides without breaking her staring contest with her older sister.

I suck my lips between my teeth in an attempt to keep from calling everyone out for having their heads up their asses, well aware it isn’t the time or the place to let my acidic tongue run wild, especially when Tatum has plenty to go around.

Nostrils flaring, she tears her gaze from Ophelia and turns to Rory. “Squeaks, do you want to sit at a different table with me while I hire an Uber to take us literally anywhere but here?”

The same familiar sheen of regret fills Ophelia’s eyes. It swallows her frustration from seconds ago as she stares at her little sister helplessly. “Tatum,” she pleads.

Standing, Tatum sets her napkin on the table as Rory joins her on her feet, and they stroll away, slipping into one of the booths furthest away from ours. And it’s kind of funny. Seeing them together. How opposite yet similar they really are to each other. Tatum’s once long, blonde hair is now black and hangs just beneath her jaw. Her nails are black and chipped as if she’s been chewing them. And the books I’m used to her carrying around like a security blanket since she was a kid are long gone, along with her ability to cry. Okay, the last part is only a hunch, but she’s more stabby than woe-is-me, while little Rory Buchanan looks two seconds away from literally crying me a river as she sports her pink scrunchie, white polo, and tennis skirt, despite the cold weather.

“Well, damn,” I mutter. “So much for time healing wounds and mending bridges and shit.”

“It’s been five months, Fin,” Ophelia reminds me as if I’ve forgotten. Joke’s on her. Archer wasn’t only close to Ophelia and Tatum. He was close to all of us. And yeah, I know I lean a little more on the morbid, dark humor side of things when it comes to coping, but I’m not heartless. And I do miss him. More than most people know .

“I’m pretty sure it could be five years, and Tatum still wouldn’t let me mend bridges and shit,” Ophelia continues. “It doesn’t matter how much I apologize, if I try to put on a brave face, or…anything. I’ll always be the bad guy in her story, and that?” She sniffs and wipes beneath her nose. “That’s a burden I’m pretty sure I’ll have to carry for the rest of my life. But, it would be easier if Tatum would at least let me…talk to her.”

“You made a mistake, Lia,” I reply. “You’re allowed to make mistakes. And whenever Tatum’s ready to let you in again, you’ll be here. I think it’s all that matters.”

“Fin’s right,” Dylan adds. “And for now, Tatum can lean on Rory. Pretty sure they could both use a friend.”

We all watch Tatum and Rory from across the restaurant, surprised and enthralled by the two of them side-by-side. It’s like they’re magnets, and it’s literally a toss-up as to whether or not they’ll be brought together or pushed apart depending on the day. And thanks to their broken hearts, they’re clinging to each other.

“At least they aren’t pushing each other away,” I add, studying them.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ophelia tucks her hair behind her ear and sits back down. “Look at you, focusing on the positive.”

“Someone has to,” I joke.

Raine and Dylan give me pity laughs and open their menus.

“Don’t get me wrong. I get it, you know?” Ophelia sniffs and plays with a straw wrapper, staring at it like it holds the answers to all her problems. “I get that our history is messy, but…I’m just so…exhausted.” The paper wrapper skids across the top of the table as she flicks it away from her. “Knowing my little sister will never forgive me, let alon e move on and be happy, even if it feels impossible. And trust me. I know how impossible it feels.”

“I know you do,” I offer carefully.

Pressing her fingers to her lips, Ophelia nods. “After Archer’s death, Mav and I started going to therapy, and it’s been hard, you know? Hard dealing with survivor’s guilt and all the things we wish could be different while knowing that it’s out of our hands. But then I see Tatum, and she just…isn’t trying.” Her hand falls to the table. “And I know I shouldn’t say that, but she bottles everything up, shoves it down, and refuses to make any room for real emotions. I feel like it’s all my fault, but there isn’t any way to fix it. To fix any of this.”

She’s right. There isn’t. Only time will heal the wounds from Archer’s passing, but only if we let it. Tatum? It’s like she’s picking at the wound, refusing to let the scabs mend her broken heart. Instead, she’ll be left with scars. Irreparable damage. And I’m not the only one who knows it.

“Okay, we should change the subject,” Lia begs. “Please? Anyone? Give me something else to think about.”

“So, uh, did Rory really try to kiss Jax?” Dylan asks. “There’s like a ten-year age gap, not to mention a very illegal aspect to the whole thing. What else did she expect?”

I laugh and cover my face. “I mean, Jax is hot. I can see it.”

“Hey, you’re talking about my brother,” Dylan argues before a Cheshire grin takes up half her face. “Although, speaking of my brothers…”

Clasping my hands in front of me, I clear my throat. “So, are we really going to let Rory and Tatum leave with an Uber?”

“Subtle subject change,” Raine notes .

With a gasp, I clutch at my chest. “Excuse me, but those two girls are under our care, thank you very much.”

Dylan snorts. “Yeah, I’m with Raine on this one. Subtle subject change, Fin.”

Crossing my arms, I lean back in the booth. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong, though.”

“You’re all right,” Ophelia interjects. “Fin, you’re being dumb for avoiding a very simple and juicy question. One we’ll most definitely be pressing you on later, and you’re also being logical by pointing out our current predicament with the two teenagers across the room who hate me.”

“To be fair, I’m pretty sure only Tatum hates you,” I quip.

“Hey, be nice.” Dylan reaches for the straw wrapper and tosses it at me, but it falls flat, spiraling toward the table like a dying bird, and I hold back the urge to make fun of her for it.

Instead, I turn back to Ophelia. “And, if we’re really trying to assess that girl’s emotions, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say your little sister hates everyone, so don’t take it too hard.”

“She’s right,” Raine adds. “Tatum’s mad at the world. Not just you.”

“Thanks,” Lia mutters, though she doesn’t look like she believes us. “But even if it’s true, it’s not like Tatum is going to let me in the car with her again.” She pauses. “Actually, I have an idea. Dylan, will you take the girls home, and I’ll have Mav swing by and pick me up?”

“You sure?” Dylan asks.

Nodding, Ophelia pulls out her phone, and, I assume, sends a quick text to her boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it’s probably the best idea for everyone. Maybe Rory will even come with us?”

“Let them bond,” I say, tilting my head toward their booth. “Tatum might be a little older, but they could use each other right now.”

I’m right. I know I am.

Ophelia looks up from her phone and frowns. “So, what? It’s only me and Mav?”

“And me,” I quip. “I could use some space from drama for now, too.”

“Why?” Raine prods. “So you can avoid Dylan’s questions about you and Griff?”

“There is no me and Griff,” I remind her.

“Sure there isn’t.” Raine shares a look with Dylan, making me want to smack them both.

“Stop making those faces,” I grumble around my straw.

“Why? Because you know we’re right?” Raine challenges.

Dylan adds, “He’s been pissy since you rejected him last night.”

“I didn’t?—”

“You did,” Ophelia chirps. “We all saw.”

“You saw nothing,” I argue.

“I saw Griffin hungover as shit this morning,” Raine offers.

“Because he had to take all my shots and his,” I point out. “Maybe if you picked a different game, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Yeah, sure. Blame the game,” Ophelia says.

“Griffin doesn’t drink. Not really,” Dylan notes. “Yet, there was a bottle of Jack in his room.”

“Why were you in Griffin’s room?”

“I’m his sister,” she defends. “And you’re missing the point.”

“The point is, you all need to get out of here.” I push Dylan’s shoulder, urging her to stand up. “Go. Take the girls home. ”

When she’s on her feet, she faces me again, her gaze narrowing from behind her glasses. “Don’t hurt my brother, okay?”

“You act as if I’m capable.”

“Oh, I think we all know you’re plenty capable,” Ophelia argues.

“She means that in the nicest way possible,” Raine adds.

“Sure, she does.” I snort. “You do know you’re saying this to the girl who was cheated on, right?”

“Yeah, and look who bounced right back,” Dylan says, refusing to budge.

Part of me wants to smack the girl. The other part? I guess I get it. I’m a good liar. So good, it seems I’ve fooled my own best friend. Honestly, I should give myself a pat on the back or some shit, even if her perception of me is a bit warped. Then again, maybe it’s a good thing. Appearing impenetrable. Better to not have a heart than to risk having it broken, right? And yeah, I might not be feeling the ache of Drew’s absence, but the possibility of losing Griff? It’s enough to make me twitchy, which is the last thing I need.

Rocking back on my heels, I wiggle my fingers at my friends. “And on that note, toodle-oo, ladies.”

“Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch, I’m just saying?—”

“I know what you’re saying.”

“No, you don’t,” she rushes out. “My brother might seem like he’s laid back and good at going with the flow, but he’s more than a rebound kind of guy when it comes to you, Fin.”

My lips press into a thin line as the girls each give me their own looks of disapproval.

“She knows,” Ophelia finally answers for me.

And that’s the problem. I do know. And I already crossed that line .

My toes curl in my boots at the memory of our kiss before my face is lit on fire by the recollection of last night. When I gave him the freaking cheek. Seriously? Who does that? Me, that’s who.

“Come on, Dyl. You’ve made your point.” Raine bumps Dylan’s shoulder with hers and hooks her purse over her forearm. “Let’s go.”