A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 35

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

FINLEY

“ S o…who thought it would be a good idea to move a bunch of shit the day we have a game?” Reeves grunts. He’s carrying a bunch of new furniture from the U-Haul and into the opposite side of the duplex—my side—with the rest of the guys.

It’s kind of weird to think that a few months ago, this space belonged to me, Ophelia, and Dylan. Now, Ophelia shares Maverick’s room, and Dylan is staying with Reeves, leaving me as the only official resident. Or at least, I was until Everett and Raine offered to move in while they wait for a house to go on the market on the same street. It’s what they tell me, anyway. I don’t think they’ll be going anywhere, though. Not when Everett will be moving across state lines to play for the Rockets at the end of the school year. They’re really going to buy a second house, just so they have a landing spot when they visit Lockwood Heights?

Then again, Raine’s family is here. Her job at Etch ‘N’ Ink is here. Maybe they won’t be moving too far after all, especially if he earns the open spot on the Lions’ roster. I wonder if Raine knows what Everett’s doing behind the scenes to keep them in Lockwood Heights.

Not gonna lie. I don’t exactly want to live with my brother and his girlfriend. Actually, I really don’t want to live with my brother and his girlfriend, but it’s just the way the cards fell, and now that I’m pregnant and need to figure out a new game plan, I’m grateful for the free roof over my head until I'm forced to admit the truth. I am so screwed.

Deep breath, Fin.

“At least there isn’t too much to move,” I point out. “Griff and I already handled the majority of things, so really, you only need to move Everett’s and Raine’s things.”

“Says the girl who insisted she needed a new dresser when you moved into our place,” Maverick quips.

“Uh, I’m sorry, but my house basically burned down, so…”

Mav moves closer, shifting a small box to his other side. “Your kitchen burned down, so…”

“And my dresser had smoke damage, so…” I point my finger at him and twirl it around, adding a mock death glare for good measure as he throws his head back and laughs.

Sidling up beside me, Griffin reaches for the cardboard box in my arms. “Here. Let me?—”

“I’ve got it,” I say.

His eyes narrow. “Fin…”

Batting my lashes at him, I say, “I’m a big girl, Griffin. I think I can handle carrying a few boxes.”

He moves closer. “I think you should take it easy.”

“Why should she take it easy?” Lia asks from the kitchen.

“The seizure,” Griffin explains, and honestly, I’m impressed. He had that one locked and loaded. Must’ve learned from the best. Even so, it doesn’t mean I’m going to let him get away with bossing me around, even if he’s sexy as hell when he does it.

“I’m fine.” I lift Raine’s clothes-filled box a few inches higher into the air as if to prove my point, then step onto the shared front porch of the duplex while ignoring Griffin’s heated stare along my back.

Yeah, yeah. You’ve made your point clear.

Lifting boxes is probably a no-no when pregnant, but seriously. It’s clothes. I’m not stupid, and I’m not going to put the bun in my oven in danger, even if I am sporting the high-risk label for the foreseeable future. Pretty sure Mr. Thorne needs to take a chill pill, especially when said bun is still most definitely on the down-low.

“Reeves, after you’re done with the mattress, wanna help me carry the dresser from Fin’s old room?” Everett calls. “I’ll be upstairs.”

Carrying a piece of furniture out of the U-Haul, Reeves grunts, “Sure thing. Be there in a sec.”

Thankfully, Raine and Everett are taking the top floor of the duplex. I already invested in some noise-canceling headphones, so we should be good to go…until Griffin decides to sleep over and Everett has another aneurysm. I guess I’ll just sleep at his place instead of mine. Until the baby is born.

Dread and anticipation fill every crevice inside me as I set a box on Everett’s and Raine’s bare mattress. Once the baby’s born, do I ask for a second room? Do I kick them out and take the upper floor? Do I try to fit a crib in here? I scan the decent-sized space, imagining where I would fit a crib. Beside the window is okay, I guess. But what if the light bothers her? Or him? Maybe next to the closet would be better, but?—

“Where the hell is she? ”

“Ev, calm down,” someone says. Mav, I think? “What is…” His voice trails off, and my heart ratchets up.

What’s going on?

“Oh, shit,” someone else mumbles.

Curious, I peek into the hallway, finding a red-faced Everett storming toward me up the stairs, his hand fisted at his side. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m used to pissing people off, Everett included. But after the last time we spoke, I’d hoped to stay on his good side for at least a week or two before poking the bear, especially after Griffin’s truth bomb this morning. So, why is Ev looking like he’s seconds from blowing a gasket? Then, I see it. The pregnancy test. In his fist.

The one from the room. The one I never thought to look for after seizing. He must’ve found it when he was moving the furniture.

Shit.

Do pregnancy tests last this long?

Blood drains from my face, and the world spins around me as all of my repercussions for keeping this from everyone hit at full force. I lean against the doorjamb, searching for balance as he lifts the stupid stick into the air.

“What the hell is this, Fin?”

I keep my expression blank. “How am I supposed to know what?—”

“Bullshit.”

“Ev?” Dylan calls from the base of the stairs. The rest of my friends file in from the front door, leaving the family room and kitchen way more crowded than I’d like at the moment. Then again, if crime documentaries have taught me anything, it’s that witnesses are a good thing if you’re about to be murdered, and since I have no desire to kill my brother, and he looks two seconds away from strangling me, well, maybe they can stay after all.

Like a rabid dog, Everett turns on the stairs to face Dylan and lifts the test into the air. “Is this yours?”

“Is what—” Her eyes pop behind her glasses. “Holy shit.”

Reeves’ jaw drops. “Dylan, are you pregnant?”

Finding her boyfriend, Dylan presses her hands to his chest and shakes her head. “It’s not mine, I swear.”

“Ah, man.” He slips his hands around her waist and gives her an Eskimo kiss. “I’m almost disappointed.”

Dylan rolls her eyes, and wiggles from Reeves’ grasp before searching the room for any other potential culprits. When her gaze falls on Ophelia, she asks, “Lia?”

“Nope, I had my period last week,” Ophelia announces.

“Yeah, I can vouch for her,” Maverick adds.

“Ew,” Dylan mutters.

With a wink, Reeves says, “Kinky.”

“Pretty sure that’s my line,” I quip from the top of the stairs before regret fills every single crevice of my body.

Whoops.

So much for flying under the radar.

Silence ensues as everyone turns their stares to me. My heart races in my chest, ratcheting faster and faster with every curious look. Every unspoken assumption. I can’t decide if it would be easier if I was still with Drew or if this is the best way to handle things. Just me, myself, and I. Because even if Griffin and I are a thing—a really amazing thing—the little nugget in my stomach is very much mine and mine alone.

Speaking of which, where the hell is he?

“Seriously, someone say something,” Dylan pleads as she searches everyone’s expressions. “Because, uh, a positive pregnancy test is kind of a big deal, and…”

“Well isn’t this a delightful game of whodunnit?” I announce. Rubbing my hands together, I paste on a fake smile. Just say it. “Yup. The cat’s out of the bag. I’ll take the congratulations now and will be registered online, thank you very much.”

Everett’s frown hardens as he reaches the top step. Hell, it’s freaking concrete. He lowers his hand. Not effortlessly, mind you. Nope. This guy is so close to the brink of a mental breakdown I can almost taste the shift in the air as he forces his arm to lower like he’s the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz .

“You’re pregnant,” he states.

It isn’t a question. It doesn’t need to be. I already confirmed it.

“I believe the next words out of your mouth should be, ‘ Congratulations, baby sister, I’m so excited for you .’”

“What the fuck, Fin?” he demands.

I grimace. “Apparently, I need to have my hearing checked because that sounded nothing like?—”

He slams his hand against the wall, and I flinch.

“I thought you said you broke up with Drew,” he growls.

“I did break up with Drew.”

“So, is he not the father?”

I blink. Twice. “What?”

“I assume he isn’t the father, or else why the hell would you break up with him?” His eyes darken. “Were you cheating on him with Griff? Is it his? Because the timeline sure as shit is murkier than it should be.”

“What?” I screech. “No?—”

“Or were you telling the truth when you first got home from your little road trip, and Drew really was cheating on you?” His nostrils flare. “You were, weren’t you? He was cheating.”

“Ev,” I start .

“I’m gonna kill him,” he decides. “I’m gonna fucking?—”

“Ev,” Raine interrupts. Slipping beside him, she touches his cheek and forces him to look at her. “You need to breathe, and you need to stop overreacting.”

“Pretty sure I’m not overreacting, Storm,” he rasps, but the muscles in his shoulders soften, and he leans into her touch, forcing his gaze back to me. And the disappointment. The resignation. It stings.

“Fuck, Fin.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much how it happened,” I joke.

The guy’s mouth doesn’t even twitch. “How could you be so…”

His voice trails off, but I could fill it in with a thousand different words, and none of them would take away the sting.

“Fertile?” I offer dryly. “Well, apparently, it runs in the family since mom got pregnant before she was married, too, and you turned out okay, so…”

Unamused, Everett folds his arms. “Does this mean you’re planning to marry Drew like Mom did with Dad? Because at least with me, I had both my parents.”

“I thought you hated Drew,” I point out with a smirk in hopes of dissipating the bundle of nerves making me feel like a livewire under his scrutiny. I want to tell him that I know it was stupid. I know I was stupid. I know this whole situation is messed up. I know I made a mistake, and I’m terrified of what comes next. Of how I’m supposed to handle this.

“It isn’t funny, Fin. It isn’t a joke.” My brother scrubs his hand over his face. “How could you be so irresponsible?”

And there it is. The word I was waiting for. The word I knew would cut me and solidify my biggest assumption. He thinks I’m irresponsible. And in a way, I am. I forgot to pack my birth control when I visited Drew, and the rest is history. But it doesn’t soften the blow or the knowledge that I’ll never be enough. I’ll never be looked at as someone who knows how to handle their shit. Nope. I’m just the girl who screwed up by getting pregnant before I’m even allowed to legally touch alcohol.

Fantastic.

“Everett,” Raine snaps. “This could happen to anyone?—”

“Yeah, and the rest of us would handle it like adults instead of sweeping shit under the rug or pretending it isn’t real or cheating on our significant other or?—”

“Don’t you dare accuse me of cheating!” I yell, but my asshole brother barrels over me.

“Or letting the fucking sperm donor off the hook! Does Griffin even know? How could you do that to him? I was worried he’d fuck you over, but you’re the one?—”

“It’s mine,” Griffin interrupts.

The lie hits like a punch to the gut, and I crumble forward, searching the sea of friends for my boyfriend’s face. There he is. At the front door. Sandwiched between Maverick and Ophelia. His expression is…grim. And I hate that it’s there because of me. My mistake. My screw up.

“Griff,” I plead.

“Fin, it’s okay,” he says.

“What?” Everett’s neck swivels left and right as Griffin approaches us, the stairs creaking beneath his weight.

“You already know we’ve been seeing each other—” Griffin starts, but Everett cuts him off.

“Yeah, but for how long, Griff? You knocked my sister up?”

“Personally, I’d think he’d be happy about it,” Ophelia chimes in, mumbling to Dylan like they’re watching a soap opera or something. “At least she isn’t tied to Drew for the rest of her life, am I right? ”

“Sh…,” Dylan murmurs. “They’re getting to the good part.”

“There is no good part,” Everett snaps. “I thought you two were…new.” His lip curls. “How long has this been going on?”

“Why? Because the math isn’t mathing?” I toss back at him then give Griffin a pointed look.

“A while,” Griff answers for me. “We were keeping things quiet until we knew it was the real deal, and then she wound up pregnant, and?—”

“So, wait. You were cheating on Drew?” Dylan interrupts. “With my brother?”

“Why do you think Drew wanted Fin to cut me out?” Griffin challenges.

Seriously, is the room spinning? It feels like it’s spinning.

Although, bravo because this is an excellent lie. Too good, really. And if I didn’t have a conscience, I just might go along with it, but I do have a conscience, and it’s rearing its ugly head. I can’t do this to Griff. I can’t hijack his entire future all because I wound up pregnant even if things are going pretty freaking perfectly on the relationship front. It isn’t fair to him, and it isn’t fair to my baby.

Is it?

How the hell am I supposed to get out of this?

By opening your freaking mouth, Finley , I remind myself.

Shaking my head, I push away from the wall and call out, “Okay, enough bullshit, all right?” I move closer, wedging myself between Griffin and Everett at the top of the stairs. “First of all, you’re a dick. I’m not sweeping shit under the rug. I’m trying to come up with a game plan since I’m well aware having a baby is kind of a big deal, but thank you so much for the vote of confidence. You’re a real jackass. You know that, right?” I jab my brother’s sternum with my forefinger. “Second of all, Griffin is?—”

“We need to talk,” Griffin interjects. “Right. Now.”

Unease swims in my gut, and my head snaps to my brother’s best friend. “Griff?—”

“Please.”

It’s the please that does me in. The way he’s looking at me like he might fall to his knees if it would give him what he wants, which, apparently, is a minute alone with me.

Without taking my eyes off the man in front of me, I murmur, “Everett, can you give us a minute, please?”

The floor squeaks beneath his weight as Everett steps away from us and down the stairs. Once we’re the only two on the second floor, Griffin follows me into Everett’s and Raine’s room. The quiet click of the latch reverberates throughout the room as I force my lungs to work, praying the oxygen will bring some clarity with it, but nope. This situation is just as messed up as before.

Turning to Griffin, I whisper, “What the hell are you thinking?”

“Give me two minutes,” he begs.

“Two minutes.” A delirious laugh bubbles out of me, and I collapse onto the bed. “Sure. Why not? You have two minutes until we go out there and clear things up. Start talking, Griff.”