A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

GRIFFIN

T ugging at the tie around my throat, I stare at the tall black door in front of me. I’ve debated this since Finley’s doctor’s appointment, and if I’m being honest, long before then. But I never thought I’d go through with it. Never thought I’d have the guts or the justification. And maybe I still don’t have them, but now that it’s here. Now that I’ve called and set up the meeting, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a knife, and one wrong move could ruin everything. Everything I’ve worked for. Everything I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember.

Maybe I already have ruined it.

My knees bounce as I rest my elbows on them, staring at the marble tile beneath my Oxfords.

I still remember when I got the call. It was years ago, but right now, it feels like it was yesterday. The Tornadoes wanted to sign me. Ev already knew he was going to play for the Rockets. He’d looked over contracts a few weeks prior. Same with Mav and the Lions. But me? My agent was ironing out the details, determined to get me the best contract possible because he thought I was worth it and was convinced the Tornadoes thought so, too. Little did they know, I would’ve signed anything as long as it guaranteed I could be on the ice and follow in my dad’s footsteps without looking like I was riding his coattails.

Don’t fuck this up.

I’ve thought long and hard about this. With all the shit going on with our families, the idea of leaving. Of moving away. It feels wrong. Even before I slept with Finley, it felt wrong, and I couldn’t figure out why. I kept telling myself it was because of everything that happened with Archer and Mav. Then, everything went down with Dylan and Reeves’ dad, and Raine’s ex beat the shit out of Ev, and now I’m with Fin, and she’s pregnant, and I can’t…I can’t leave. I also don’t have a choice. Not if I don’t want to lose everything I’ve worked for. But there’s no way I can walk away and move across the country. Not anymore. Can I? She needs me. She doesn’t want to admit it, but she does. So, here I am, doing the only thing I can think of, no matter how stupid it is.

Don’t fuck this up.

“You can go in now,” the receptionist offers. Erica’s been a family friend since I was born and has worked for my Uncle Henry at Buchanan Enterprises for decades. But even the familiar smile does shit at calming my nerves.

The media can be a bitch in this line of work. If I had a dollar for every time someone said shit about my talent on the ice, blaming my familial connections for my success instead of the blood, sweat, and fucking tears I’ve shed for this sport and my future, I’d be as rich as my Uncle Henry. Now, here I am, calling in a favor and giving each and every accusation merit.

They’re gonna have a field day with this.

I shove the thought aside, hook my finger in the silk noose around my throat, then stand .

As I step into Uncle Henry’s office, he looks up from his desk and smirks. “This feels official.”

“Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Anytime.” Fingers steepled in front of him, Maverick’s dad, the owner of the NHL Lions, watches me approach the armchair across from his desk and motions to it.

My spine is straight as I sit on the edge of the cushion and hold his stare.

“So?” he prods.

Just. Say. It.

“I need your help,” I announce.

“Figured as much. What can I do for you?”

“I need you to trade me to the Lions.”

His brows kick up. “Pardon?”

Shifting in the leather seat across from Henry, I repeat, “I said I need you to trade me to the Lions. There’s an opening on the team, thanks to Mav’s”—I clear my throat—“early retirement, and I know there’s been talk of you wanting to rebuild the Lions from the ground up. Ask the Tornadoes to trade me for Erickson.”

“Erickson’s a good player,” Uncle Henry argues, mentioning the Lions’ right wing.

“He’s an old player,” I argue. “I’m young. Healthy. I’ll be on the team for years, and I will win you a Stanley Cup. I promise.”

His eyes thin. “Did Everett put you up to this?”

Blindsided by my best friend’s name, I pull back. “What?”

“He came in last week asking for the same thing, though he went with trading Collins instead. Same idea, though. Rebuilding the team. Making some unconventional moves. Shaking things up a bit.”

Fuck. Everett wants to be traded to the Lions, too.

I didn’t know this. And by the look on Henry’s face, he knows I was also left in the dark as soon as the words were uttered.

“He wants to stay close to family,” Uncle Henry explains. “Wants Raine to stay close to her family and her career at the tattoo shop.”

Hating myself more and more with every passing moment, I nod. We’re after the same spot. Everett and I are after the same spot. The room spins, and I dig my fingers into the armrests. Shit just got a hell of a lot more complicated, but I can’t back down. Not now. Not with Fin. Not with the baby.

“I don’t suppose this has something to do with Caruthers’ injury before Christmas, does it?” Uncle Henry prods.

“The Tornadoes want me to play out the rest of their season.”

“And in the process, kiss your degree goodbye, as well as the rest of your season with the Hawks,” he realizes.

My chin dips in a grudging nod.

“When did you talk with them?” he prods.

“I met with them for lunch before the Bulldogs’ game. They wanted to meet before then, but I was…unavailable.”

“Unavailable?”

“I was on a road trip with Fin,” I clarify.

“Finley, huh?” A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Should’ve known that hellraiser would be involved if it meant skipping something important. That girl’s giving Mack and Kate a run for their money.”

He has no idea.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Guess you could say that. But about the contract…”

“It’s quite the opportunity.” He pauses, considering the Tornadoes’ proposition. “Risky, though. You do have leverage on your side.” He shifts from Uncle Henry to the infamous business shark, Henry Buchanan, in the blink of an eye. “Have you negotiated a bonus at least?”

“There’s no need. I turned them down.”

His eyes widen. “And why would you do that?”

“Because I’m needed here.”

“Which is why you want me to extend you an offer to play for the Lions,” he concludes.

“Yes.” I clear my throat. Again. “And I know Everett makes a good case with his personal situation, and I know family’s important. Family’s everything,” I clarify. “But Finley’s circumstances are a little more precarious than Raine’s family and her internship at her dad’s tattoo shop.”

Concern flashes across his features, and his head tilts. “What’s wrong with Finley?”

Fuck. I didn’t want to play this card. Didn’t mean to. It just slipped but… fuck . I don’t want to betray Finley’s trust. But I don’t have the month Finley requested until we tell the family about the baby. Things are moving too fast. And if I want my career without sacrificing my relationship with Fin, then I need to make my move. Now.

“What’s wrong with Finley, Griffin?” my uncle demands.

“She’s uh…” I tug at the knot at my throat and rest my forearms against my knees. “You need to give me your word that this stays between us.”

His eyes narrow. “I’m not sure I can until you tell me what this is about.”

“Uncle Henry,” I push.

His sigh is forced, and so are his next words. “Is it life-threatening?”

I hesitate. “Not at the moment, no.”

“Not exactly painting me a pretty picture, Griff.”

“I need your word,” I repeat, well aware I’m pushing my luck but too stubborn to give a shit. Not now. Not when Finley’s trust in me is on the line.

Scratching his jaw, he finally murmurs, “Fine.”

“She’s, uh, she’s pregnant.”

If I wasn’t raised with Uncle Henry, I would think he’s unaffected by my declaration. But I was raised with the guy, and I know him well. Well enough to see the tension in his jaw. The slight shift of his muscles. The minor twitch of his right eye. Yeah, this is the last thing he would’ve guessed, I’d say. Jokes on both of us, though.

“And who’s the father, Griffin?” he demands. “I heard you two are dating.”

“I need you to trade me to the Lions,” I repeat, dodging his question. “She needs to be close to her neurologist and her obstetrician and her family. She’ll need support with the new baby while I’m at away games. I won’t be able to leave either of them without knowing she has her family around while I’m gone.”

The same twitch hits at the corner of his right eye. “And what makes you assume I can do this for you?”

“Because you’re Henry Buchanan,” I remind him.

He scratches his jaw, his gaze never leaving mine. “Your stats are good, Griff. Hell, they’re on par with your father’s when he was at LAU, but I have to take into account my current roster. My current players. I need defensemen, not right wings or centers,” he adds. He’s right. Mav plays defense. Ev and I are forwards. It’s not an even swap.

“Like I said, we both know Mav’s contract fell through,” I murmur. “And I know shit is complicated, but I wouldn't be here if I didn’t need this favor.”

His sigh lingers in the air, leaving me even more anxious as he continues holding my stare. I can see the wheels turning. The calculations we both know he’s weighing. The pros and cons and everything in between .

“Uncle Henry, please.”

“I’ll only be able to take on one of you, and that’s if I can convince the coach to trade one of our offense for a current defender to make room for a rookie.” He grits his teeth. “Erickson and Collins might be older, but they still have fight in them. Convincing the GM to let them go and make room for a rookie, even a rookie with incredible stats,” he gives me a pointed look, “isn’t an easy feat.”

“I know.”

“I can’t make any guarantees.”

“Your willingness to try is more than enough,” I reply.

Leaning back in his desk chair, he asks, “Does anyone else know?”

I shake my head.

“Well, then.” He stands and offers his hand. When I take it, he adds, “Congratulations, Griff. Being a parent is…” He swallows thickly, and I know he’s thinking of Archer and Maverick and Rory. About burying his son, canceling the other’s NHL contract, and raising his youngest, who’s going through the thick of it with no end in sight.

Suddenly, I feel like shit. For letting him make assumptions about my paternal involvement. For swaying the situation in my favor instead of Everett’s. For using a sore spot against him. All of it. But I bite my fucking tongue. Because if I don’t. If I tell him I’m not the biological father, there’s a chance I won’t be able to stay in Lockwood Heights, and the idea of Finley being alone as she raises a baby on her own is more than I can handle.

“You’re a good dad, Uncle Henry.” I wipe my sweaty palms against my slacks. “One of the best.”

His dark eyes turn to glass, his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and he nods. “When are you going to tell the family? ”

I lift a shoulder. “I’m letting Finley take the lead on that front.”

He nods again. “Well, if you need anything in the meantime, let me know. I’ll see what I can do on my end.”

“Thanks, Uncle Henry.”

“We’re here for you, Griff.” As I smooth out the front of my dress shirt and stand, he adds, “And Griff?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll have my GM and the coach, if I can swing it, come to tomorrow’s game and see what they think. If you impress them, it’ll help your chances.” He gives me another pointed look. “Don’t screw it up.”

“I won’t.”