A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

GRIFFIN

W here are the damn pain meds?

I shouldn’t have drunk last night. Or the previous night. Or any other night since New Year’s. But I’m on edge. The Tornadoes want to reschedule our meeting. I know what they’re going to ask, and my head’s too fucked to come up with an answer. Finley went out with the girls while I was away, and from what I gathered from my conversation with Dylan, she did not tell them about the baby. We got home last night, and even then, I couldn’t help but drown out my questions in alcohol as soon as I stepped through the door. I don’t drink. Not much, anyway. Yet here I am, acting as if the alcohol is fucking water, and I’m nothing more than a goldfish.

A stupid. Stupid. Goldfish.

“You might want to be more subtle when you’re butthurt,” Finley announces behind me.

I slap the cabinet closed and face her, folding my arms with a glare.

“Like that,” she quips. “How were the games?” Rounding the center island, she searches the cupboards for a glass in nothing but a pair of boxers and a baggy T-shirt. It’d be innocent on anyone else, but Fin? Somehow, she manages to make the ragged clothes look like fuckin’ lingerie. When she stands on her tiptoes, her calves flex, and I can’t help but notice her bubblegum pink toenails.

“They were fine.” I tear my attention from the view, letting my stare linger on her round ass briefly, and clear my throat. “Heard you had a girls’ night while I was gone.”

“So?”

“So, you haven’t told them yet.”

She glances at me, then peeks over her shoulder toward the main hallway to confirm we’re still alone. Satisfied, she finds a glass, answering, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Denial,” I note. “Why am I not surprised?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re awfully good at avoiding shit, Fin.” I step closer to her until her ass hits the counter. Call me a dick, but after the rollercoaster she’s had me on since the hotel, my patience is less than none.

She gulps but keeps her head held high. “Not sure what you’re referring to, but?—”

“You mean, other than the baby?” A humorless laugh escapes me. “I’m referring to you climbing into my bed at the hotel and then rejecting my kiss on New Year’s.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. Probably because I don’t usually talk to her like this, but after the radio silence and her walking around the house like everything’s normal, then being around her brother for the past few days, shit’s messing with my head. I’m tired of playing her game. Of letting her make the rules.

“Where’s my brother?” she demands.

“Tell me why you gave me the cheek. ”

She bites the edge of her mouth, looking cagey as shit. “Griff, I didn’t?—”

“You did.”

Her tongue darts out between her pretty pink lips. “You really want to play this game?”

“I’m not the one playing,” I remind her. “You are.”

“Fine. I didn’t want to send you mixed signals.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” I growl. “You kissed me first.”

“Yeah, and then you rejected me.”

“I didn’t reject you,” I all but snarl. My fingers dig into the countertop behind her, and I take a deep breath. This girl is infuriating. “I…figured we should take things slow,” I grit out. “So you wouldn’t regret anything.”

“What’s there to regret?” she offers. “Nothing happened.”

“You’re right. It didn’t.”

“Exactly,” she quips. But her eyes? Her eyes say it all.

They fall to my chest like she can’t even look at me. Like she’s guilty. Like she’s embarrassed.

Ashamed.

And damn, if it doesn’t get to me.

“You ever hear Reeves say he doesn’t like the miscommunication trope?” I demand.

A divot forms between her brows. “What?”

“The miscommunication trope.”

“I know what it is,” she defends. “Although, I’m surprised you do. You’re not usually one to read.”

“I think I can understand basic English, Fin.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “What’s your point?”

“My point is, I think Reeves might be onto something because this?” I wag my finger between us. “This miscommunication bullshit is driving me insane.”

“Who says there’s a miscommunication? ”

“Stop being a smartass for once, Fin.” I reach up and brush her hair behind her ear, my gaze falling to her lips as regret and confusion swirl through my veins. “Why didn’t you let me kiss you?”

A flicker of…something, flashes in her gray eyes before her tongue darts out and wets her bottom lip. “Because you’re my brother’s best friend.”

“I’ve been your brother’s best friend since you were born,” I remind her. “And we’ve kissed plenty of times during games, not to mention you being very interested in kissing me when we were at the hotel.” I dip closer, caught between rage and lust as I stare down at her. So fucking perfect. So fucking infuriating. “Try again.”

“I’m done having this conversation.” She moves to the left, but I grab her bicep, keeping her in place.

“Like I said,” I growl. “Not a fan of the miscommunication trope.”

“Pretty sure this would be classified as lack of communication, not miscommunication,” she argues.

My hand itches to smack her ass, but I fight the urge, fisting it instead. “Guess I’m not a fan of either of them, then. Regardless, after everything these past two weeks, I think I deserve some clarification, don’t you?”

Sucking her lips between her teeth, she stays quiet but doesn’t try to dodge me again, so I loosen my grasp on her arm, dragging my fingers to her wrist, then letting her go. “Why didn’t you let me kiss you, Fin?”

The same familiar flicker of emotion and indecision hits her gaze before she whispers, “I don’t…I don’t want you to ruin your life.” It’s so quiet I’m surprised I even hear her. Hell, maybe I didn’t, and I only read her lips. Maybe I only read her mind.

“Who says you’re ruining my life?” I murmur.

“Well, let’s see.” She stands a little taller and lifts her chin, locking up the glimpse she’d given me of her vulnerability and leaving me aching for more. “Off the top of my head, what if this doesn’t work out, Griff? Hmm? I’m not stupid, okay? I know there’s been a pull between us for years, and neither of us has ever acted on it. Not really. And then I was sad, and you were there, and I kissed you, and yes, it was amazing, but you’re still my brother’s best friend.”

“So?” I push.

She cocks her head. “You really wanna talk about this?”

“Yeah, I really do,” I snap. I feel like I’m on a fucking carousel and we’re going round and round in circles like we always do. And I’m tired. So fucking tired of this game. But not enough to get off the ride. To let go of her. Not yet. “Talk to me, Finley.”

“Fine,” she seethes.

She pushes away from the counter, but I stand my ground, refusing to give her an inch, let alone the space she thinks she wants.

When our chests touch, she steps back again, leaning against the counter as she glares up at me.

“Not so used to me standing my ground, are you, Fin.” It isn’t a question.

“I think we can both agree that we’ve never crossed the line because whether or not we actually had the conversation, we both knew if things went south, your friendship with Everett would never be the same, and that is the last thing I want. That’s why you were smart to end the kiss at the hotel, and that’s why I gave you the cheek on New Year’s.”

“Because you don’t want to risk my friendship with Ev.”

“Exactly.”

I lift my shoulder. “Maybe I think you’re worth the risk, Fin. ”

Her lips part, and her chest expands on a sharp inhale, causing her breasts to brush against me. She’s surprised. By my candor. My easy admittance. But only for a second. Heaven forbid she let someone in long enough to show them her actual thoughts and feelings for more than a milli-fucking-second.

And just like that, it’s gone.

Shaking it off, she argues, “You say that now, but what if it doesn’t work out? And my brother is only the tip of the iceberg. What if the Tornadoes ask to reschedule your meeting, you move away, and I only see you a few times a year? I just got out of a long-distance relationship. I’m not exactly interested in taking that route again. Oh, and let’s not forget about the baby in my uterus, right? This isn’t only about me and you anymore. There are no guarantees in this, Griff. None. This is a recipe for disaster, and I care about you. I want you to have an amazing, successful life without me dragging you down in the background.”

Maybe it’s my throbbing headache, but I swear I’m hallucinating. This girl wears her confidence like a second skin, and has never been afraid to go after what she wants. Not once. Hearing her put aside those wants for me and my future is not only off-brand, it’s fucking delusional. Especially twice in one conversation. Add in her confession about caring for me, and I’m pretty sure I have a concussion I didn’t know about.

“Did you say you’re afraid of dragging me down?” I ask.

“That’s exactly what I said.”

My mouth twitches. “You wouldn’t drag me down.”

“Yes, I would! I’m not stupid, okay, Griffin? I’m aware my epilepsy makes things more complicated than the average relationship. Add in a baby, and I’m basically a walking thousand-pound bag of luggage no one deserves to lug around. ”

My attention falls to her lips again. I want to ask if she’s serious. If she honestly believes all the bullshit she’s spewing. Like she’s a burden to be around when she’s always been the most confident and fucking gorgeous girl in the room. Does she really not see it? The way I want her? The way I’ve always wanted her?

Gripping the counter on either side of her hips, I offer, “Maybe I want to lug you around.”

She snorts. “No one wants to?—”

I kiss her, swallowing her tiny gasp of surprise as my mouth moves over hers. Perfect. She’s fucking perfect, and if I have to shut her up by kissing her so she stops spiraling over bullshit lies like I wouldn’t be the luckiest bastard in the world to claim her, then I have no problem doing exactly that. My hands find her waist, and I tug her into me, letting her curves meld against my body. It’s dangerous doing this. Here. Now. Sure, it’s early, but anyone could walk in. Anyone could see us. But I can’t make myself stop. Can’t make myself regret anything else when it comes to Fin and me. Haven’t we already wasted enough time?

I kiss her harder, dragging my tongue along her bottom lip until she opens up for me. A tiny whimper slips out of her as she touches her tongue to mine, and she grabs onto my sides, fisting the fabric of my T-shirt like her life depends on it. Depends on me. As she tilts her head up even more, I grunt in response and shift my leg between her thighs. Fuck, she tastes incredible. Just like all the other times I’ve tasted her, but even better because there are no witnesses. No games. No bullshit excuses. Just Fin and me and years of pent-up attraction. I dive in deeper. Sucking her tongue into my mouth, my fingertips dig into her waist as I hold on for dear life. All I want to do is pick her up, put her round ass on the counter, shove her underwear aside, and bury myself inside her like I’ve imagined for years .

Not here.

Damn. I’m surprised my self-preservation kicks in at all, let alone is loud enough to cut through the haze of lust pulsing through my veins and shooting south now that I’m kissing her. Now that she’s kissing me.

Being caught kissing her is one thing. Fucking her is probably frowned upon. At least in public. Or in general, now that I think about it. But I’m too turned on to care.

Letting go of my shirt, her hands press against my chest, and she slowly pushes me away, her long lashes fluttering over her delicate skin as she peeks up at me, making my heart thump faster with every inch of distance.

Don’t you dare push me away again.