A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

GRIFFIN

M y legs shake as I lower into one more squat.

“Come on, man, you got this,” Everett encourages me.

We’ve been waking up early and hitting the gym for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never felt more tension than today. Sweat beads along my forehead, but I lower into my squat for the set, squeezing the metal bar across my shoulders.

Muscles burning, I push up through my heels and stand. The weights clang as I slide the bar into place and step back, shaking out my tired legs.

Mav’s working beside Reeves at the leg press, and I take note of the weight he’s using. He might not be on the team anymore, thanks to his medical condition, but he’s stronger than he used to be. Not where he could’ve been if fate hadn’t fucked with his body, but still. Stronger.

“How do you think he’s doin’?” Everett murmurs beside me, keeping his voice quiet so only I can hear him.

I lift a shoulder. “He’ll never be one hundred percent, but he’s better. ”

“Yeah.” Everett gives a slow nod. “Pretty sure none of us will ever be one hundred percent after Archer.”

He’s right. We won’t. Losing a best friend is never easy. Losing a best friend the way we lost Archer? It fucked with all our heads in a way I don’t think any of us really grasp. But it doesn’t matter how much time I spend analyzing what went down. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept it. Any of it.

I don’t have a chance to respond as my phone begins vibrating in my basketball shorts, and I pull it out.

“Who is it?” Ev asks.

I shrug again and slide my thumb across the screen. “Hello?”

“Hello, Griffin Thorne?” an unfamiliar voice questions.

“Yeah, that’s me. How can I help you?”

“Hello, Mr. Thorne. This is Teresa with the Kansas City Tornadoes.”

Everett’s expression lights up, and he gives me two thumbs up. I turn to face the opposite wall, ignoring him.

“Hello, Teresa,” I say.

“Hi,” she repeats. “How’s your family?”

My forehead bunches until I remember the lie I told her when I canceled my last meeting with the Tornadoes’ General Manager.

“They’re, uh, they’re good,” I lie.

“Well, that’s good to hear. I’ll be sure to pass along the update to the team and everyone here at the organization.”

“Uh, thanks?” I shake my head. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” I can hear the woman’s polite smile through the speaker. “I’m calling to reschedule your meeting with Mr. Deemwater,” she adds.

I tug at the collar of my T-shirt, then wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. Deemwater is the team’s General Manager, the guy I bailed on so I could drive Finley to see Drew. The reminder leaves me on edge, but I shove the feeling aside, answering, “Uh, yeah. Sure. When’s a good time for Mr. Deemwater?”

“Well, he’ll be in Lockwood Heights next Saturday. Would you be interested in meeting with him before LAU’s game? He could meet after, as well,” she continues. “He plans to attend either way.”

“The game?” I choke.

“Yes?” I can hear her confusion.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I clarify, “He’s coming to LAU’s game?”

“Is there a…problem?”

My head shifts left and right on reflex. Stopping myself, I lift the hem of my shirt and dab at my forehead. “Uh…you tell me, I guess?”

Seriously, is it hot in here?

“He simply wants to watch his rising star in action,” she explains. “You’ve been playing very well this season.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, but the tightness in my chest doesn’t loosen. “Can I ask what the meeting is about?” I cringe. “Sorry, I guess I’m just a little curious why he wants to talk to me before the season is even over. Are there any problems with my contract or anything?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that,” she rushes out. “Quite the opposite, actually. You’re a prime asset to the Tornadoes organization, Mr. Thorne. No off-the-ice drama, especially in the”—she clears her throat—“female department. Your stats are incredible, and I’m sure you heard about Caruthers’ injury before the holidays.”

“Yeah, I did.” I squeeze the back of my neck. “Tough break.”

“Yes, well, Mr. Deemwater and the rest of the board have been considering their options for next season. I’m sure they’ll give you all the specifics at lunch. Does two o’clock work for you?”

I nod. “Uh, sure.”

“Perfect! He’ll meet you at Rowdy’s. Are you familiar with the establishment?”

My head bobs again. “Yeah, that works.”

“Perfect!” she repeats. “Nice chatting with you, Mr. Thorne. Go, Hawks!”

“Go, Hawks,” I reply, ending the call. As if my arm weighs a thousand pounds, it drops to my side, and I turn around, finding my friends staring at me.

“What’d they say?” Everett asks.

“They rescheduled my meeting with Mr. Deemwater since I couldn’t make the last one.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were driving Fin across the country,” Reeves interjects. “How’d that go, anyway?”

With a shrug, I move to the squat bar and get into position again. “It was fine.”

“You beat Drew’s ass?” Everett challenges.

I lower into a squat, my muscles screaming as I push back into a standing position. “Wanted to, but Fin beat me to it.”

I squat again, and Everett grins. “Should’ve known. Glad you had her back, though. Any idea what Mr. Deemwater wants to talk about?”

We’ve had this conversation. Made our own assumptions. But after I bailed on the last meeting, I didn’t expect another one. Not when Caruthers’ backup was on the ice the weekend after I got home with Fin.

Puffing out my cheeks, I bend my knees, keeping my feet wide, then squeeze my ass up again. “They aren’t gonna pull me from LAU.”

“Thank fuck,” Mav interjects.

Everett glances at him .

“What?” Mav replies. “You already lost two of your best teammates at the beginning of the season. LAU would be screwed without their captain for the end of it.”

Reeves tilts his head toward Mav. “He’s not wrong.”

Pausing mid-set, I huff out, “I think—” Breathe . “I think they wanna have me skip the farm team and move straight to the Tornadoes next season.”

Reeves’ eyes widen. “No shit?”

Copping out, I set the bar back into place, my chest heaving. “It’s only a hunch,” I pant, “but Mr. Deemwater’s coming to Saturday’s game to watch, so”—I take another deep breath—“yeah. I think they want me on the Tornadoes’ roster this fall.”

“Well, damn.” Slapping me on the shoulder, Maverick grins. “That’s awesome, man. You’ve earned it.”

“I dunno. We’ll see,” I mutter, wiping the sweat along my hairline.

“What do you mean, we’ll see?” Everett interjects. “This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

Something sharp hits between my ribs, but I don’t rub the pain away. “Yeah, for sure, but looking so far into the future is…a lot.”

“What do you mean?” Everett laughs. “We’ve been dreaming about this since we were kids.”

“I know,” I reply. “And I’m excited. I just have to think about finals and graduation before thinking about next season, you know?”

“Yeah, ‘cause moving straight to the NHL is such a hard pill to swallow,” Reeves chimes in.

“I know,” I repeat, feeling like a parrot or some shit. And I do. I know this is a huge opportunity. I know I’m being seen for my talent on the ice, not my father’s, and they want to reward me for it. I know any of my friends and teammates would give anything to be in my position. To have an opportunity like this. A chance to slingshot the trajectory of my career instead of spending years on the farm teams proving my worth. But even taking all of that into account, I can’t help but think of Finley, too. Here. Alone. I shove the thought aside and glance at my friends. “It’ll be great.”

With a nod, Mav claps his hand on my shoulder. “Fuck yeah, it will. Now, move aside. It’s Ev’s turn.”