A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

GRIFFIN

“ Y o, Thorne,” Cameron calls.

I tear my attention from Finley at the glass. A generic LAU jersey is tied beneath her breasts, leaving her stomach on display beneath a black leather jacket and dark jeans. Her lips are painted red, and a smudge of matching crimson, black, and glitter covers her right cheekbone, though she’s too far away for me to make out what it says. LAU maybe? It could be Hawks. I pass the puck to Cameron and glance at Fin again.

My jaw locks.

What the fuck is Dreggs doing talking to her?

She rolls her gray eyes and tosses some popcorn into her mouth before those red-painted lips form a response.

Dreggs clutches at his chest like a wounded animal, shifting his hockey stick from one glove to the other and lifting his chin.

“Gather up, team!” Coach calls from the bench.

I don’t move from the blue line, though. With a playful wave, Finley and the girls head to their seats, and Everett skates away from the glass with Dreggs in tow .

“Hey, you comin’?” Ev asks as he reaches me.

I throttle my stick and nod, moving beside him and Dreggs.

He’s always been kind of an ass and has had a thing for Finley and every other girl in the friend group since the beginning of the school year. The reminder doesn’t exactly make me feel better.

I barely hear a word Coach says as he gives us a pep talk. There are too many things on my mind. Finley. Dreggs. Deemwater.

I met with the Tornadoes’ General Manager for lunch earlier today. I was right, too. They want me to take Caruthers’ position. And even though my agent pushed me to take it, I declined.

Fuck, I can’t believe I declined.

My attention shoots to Deemwater in the crowd. Part of me wondered if he’d even bother coming to the game after our lunch, but he’s here. Front and center. Guess it means I haven’t entirely fucked up my future. Not yet, anyway.

What the hell am I doing?

“Thorne, anything you want to say?” Coach asks.

Shit. How long has he been talking to me?

Clearing my throat, I force myself to focus on someone other than the girl in the stands and my precarious hockey career.

“Uh…don’t fuck up,” I tell them.

The team laughs, and I force a smile, squeezing my stick in my hands.

“Excellent captain’s speech,” Sanderson mutters dryly. “Now, come on. Let’s show our fans what we’ve got.”

Then, we take the ice.

I scan the crowd, finding Deemwater staring at me from behind the glass, when my eyes fall on Finley. She’s sucking down an Icee, and I don’t need to see inside the cup to know it’s cherry-flavored. I tear my attention from her, forcing myself to focus on the game and how important this game is now that the man who literally holds my future in the palm of his hand is in the stands.

We’re playing the Hammers. They’re a decent team, but nothing to write home about. Lining up on the left-hand side, I watch Everett skate to the center, preparing to go head-to-head with the HMU Hammers’ center.

The ref stops short in front of them, balancing his whistle against the edge of his bottom lip, and drops the puck. Everett misses it, and the Hammers’ center slaps the puck toward his waiting left wing. Bardot snatches the puck, not allowing it to make it to the intended player, and chips the puck off the boards. Racing toward it, I spin around the defenseman in my path and dribble it down the side, smacking the puck across the center of the ice toward Reeves. As soon as it hits the edge of his stick, Reeves passes it to Everett like a well-oiled machine. Hurrying into position, I wait for Everett to notice me as one of the defensemen blocks his path. Everett taps the puck through his legs, and I catch it on the opposite side, slapping the puck into the left pocket. Sirens wail around us, the red light glowing as the score updates to one to zero.

Pumping my fist into the air, I glance at the stands, searching for the coach but finding Finley on her feet instead. Her hands are cupped around her mouth while she and the rest of the girls cheer us on. When my gaze connects with hers, the girl’s smile grows, and my heart pounds faster as I return it with one of my own.

We got this.

The rest of the first period goes by in a blur. After Everett slips the puck into the pocket within ten seconds of the buzzer, leaving the score two to zero, we file into the locker room for our first break. With my helmet tucked under my arm, I steal one of the water bottles, drinking half its contents.

“Come on, man,” Dreggs says. “It’s one date.”

“Not gonna happen,” Everett growls.

My ears perk, and I turn toward my best friend.

Dreggs is straddling the bench, gripping the sides with his bare hands, his gloves haphazardly tossed in front of his crotch as he stares up at Everett.

“One date. It’s not a big deal.”

Everett rolls his shoulders and catches me eavesdropping. “Will you tell this asshat to leave my little sister alone?”

“Leave his little sister alone,” I say around the edge of the water bottle and finish what’s left of it.

Dreggs scoffs. “What? Afraid it’ll mess with my playing or some shit? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason my captain would be allowed to have any say in who I do or don’t date.”

Jealousy hits my sternum, and my fingers squeeze into the water bottle as I force my expression to remain indifferent. Part of me wants to kick his ass for insubordination. For thinking he has a chance with Finley in the first place. For recognizing that he has every right to ask her out because he has no idea she’s already taken. Already mine.

Wiping my hand with the back of my mouth, I dig deep for indifference and point out, “Everett has a stick up his ass when it comes to his baby sister. You know this.”

“It’s one date,” Dreggs argues.

“Yeah,” Everett grunts, spreading his legs wide. “One date too many.”

Dreggs scoffs. “She dated her boyfriend for how long?”

“Too long,” I offer .

“She deserves to have some freedom,” Everett explains. “Especially after being tied down to a dick like Drew.”

“Then let me take her out…show her a good time…give her a glimpse of what it’s like to date a real man.” Lifting his arms, Dreggs flexes his biceps as if to give us a physical representation of what a real man looks like, and my forehead furrows in disgust.

“She isn’t interested,” Everett tells him.

“She looked interested,” Dreggs argues.

My best friend scoffs. “No, she didn’t.”

“Did you hear her say no when I asked?” he counters.

My stomach bottoms out, and I set the empty water bottle with the rest so they can be washed and refilled for the next period.

She didn’t say no?

What the fuck, Fin?

Trying not to lose my shit, I take a deep breath.

“Enough begging, Dreggs,” Everett warns. “Your captain said no.”

“Is that right?” Dreggs counters. His focus shifts to me. “You’re really pulling the captain card, man?”

“Looks like it,” I mutter.

With a grin, Everett stands and slaps his hand against my shoulder pads. “Glad to see someone has my back.”

“Glad I can be of service,” I grumble.

But even then, I can’t erase Dreggs’s words from haunting me.

Did you hear her say no when I asked?

Fuck. She really didn’t turn him down?

I scrub my hand over my face.

We agreed to keep our relationship quiet, not to act like it doesn’t exist in the first place. Is she really interested in seeing other people?

“One minute,” Coach calls from his office. Lifting his pointer finger into the air, he makes a tiny circle, adding, “Wrap it up.”

We head back to the ice and win the game, three to one. I wind up in the penalty box. Twice. Once for roughing a player and another time for high sticking. It was a dick move, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m too amped up. Too frustrated. Too caught up in my own head and what Dreggs meant versus what Finley wants and where the hell I fit into it.

But the worst part? Is knowing the Tornadoes’ GM saw me play like shit for the last two periods of the game after I had already declined his offer to move me up to their team for the remainder of the season. But I can’t make myself care. Not when I’m so wrapped up in my best friend’s little sister.