A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 42

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

GRIFFIN

I haven’t heard from Uncle Henry yet. Neither has Everett. It’s been a little while since the Lions’ GM watched us play, but all we’ve had is radio silence. We’ve tried to play it off. Like neither of us is thinking about shit when it couldn’t be further from the truth. We won the last two away games. Both of us played like our lives depended on it. And in a way, maybe they do. Our futures. Our goals. Our girls. They all hang in the balance.

We’ve been gone the past two days, traveling for hockey, and the distance has only solidified my resolve to stay in Lockwood Heights. We’ve talked. Texted. But nothing compares to holding my girl in my arms, and damn, I’ve missed her.

After yesterday’s win, Reeves suggested we go to SeaBird and celebrate with everyone. I texted Fin to get her opinion, and she said she was fine with it as long as she could go in sweats since real clothes make her feel like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

Her words, not mine .

Leaning against the doorjamb, I watch her apply lip gloss in the mirror. We got home a couple hours ago, each of us separating and promising to meet at SeaBird at eight, though now that I’m here, the idea of leaving when I could spend the night in with Finley grows less and less appealing with each passing second.

As she leans close to her reflection, her ass pops back, and I swear the girl’s doing it on purpose. Driving me nuts. Making me want to grab her waist and grind against her just because I can. Just because she’s mine. Just because she’s stolen one of my sweaters, and it hangs off her shoulder, giving me a glimpse of her creamy skin. If our friends weren’t waiting for us, I’d do it. I’d take her. Right here. Right now.

“Like what you see?” she quips, well aware I’m practically salivating at the view in front of me. However, the hot pink sweats I’d expected when she announced that denim is officially dead to her have been replaced with a pair of gray joggers. They look eerily familiar.

As I scan her up and down, I ask, “Are those mine?”

She peeks over her shoulder, grins, and slides the cap on her lip gloss. “Maybe.”

“Did I say you could steal my clothes?”

“It’s adorable how you think I need to ask permission.” Her hips sway as she moves toward me, locking her arms around my neck. “PS, can I tell you how bummed I am that I didn’t get to see you kick ass against the Rangers last night? I heard you were amazing.”

Part of me wants to ask if she honestly thinks I didn’t notice the not-so-thinly-veiled subject change or how she has no issue stealing my shit. The other part? Well, I find her arrogance hot as fuck, and I think we both know it.

Giving in, I kiss the tip of her nose and loop my arms around her waist. “It was a good game. And you can watch me kick ass against the Rangers the next time they’re at LAU.”

“Always. You know I refuse to miss any home games, so you’re kind of stuck with me.” She pats my chest. “Sorry, big boy. Besides, who else is going to cheer you on and keep the puck bunnies from encroaching on my territory?”

“You don’t need to worry about puck bunnies.”

“I know I don’t. Although, I do like bragging that you’re mine.”

My grin grows. “Is that why you ordered an LAU jersey with my name?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I think I like my name on you.”

“I thought you might.”

“It matches Dylan’s,” I add, mentioning the jersey Reeves asked Fin to make when the puck bunnies were giving Reeves a little too much attention for her liking. Now, the girl is almost never seen without it at the games. Pretty sure it’s the highlight for Reeves each and every time we hit the ice. Now that I’ve seen Finley wearing one with my name, I get it.

When I caught Fin in it the first time, I had to resist the urge to storm up to her seat and kiss the shit out of her in front of everyone. Somehow, I managed to keep the urge in check, though I did ask Dreggs if he liked my girl’s new jersey. Thankfully, the asshole only laughed it off, telling me I was a lucky guy. And fuck, if it isn’t the truth.

Finley’s eyes dance with mirth as she toys with the hair on the back of my neck, causing goosebumps to break out along my spine. “I got the same guy to make this one for me. Now, Dylan and I are twins. Well, except hers says Oliver, and mine says Thorne, but you get it. ”

“Yeah, I get it.” I laugh, leaning closer and planting another kiss against the tip of her nose. “What do you say we stay in tonight instead of meeting everyone at SeaBird?”

“You sure you don’t want to celebrate?” she questions.

“I can think of other ways we can celebrate,” I offer.

The corner of her mouth lifts. “Oh, really?”

My hands find her waist, and I sway us back and forth. “Maybe.”

“Again with the no music,” she teases.

“Just wait ‘til I have you moaning.” I nip at her plump lips, the taste of strawberry teasing me, when a loud knock echoes from the front door. With a frown, I guide us into the hallway and glance toward the front of the house.

My stomach bottoms out.

Through the window framing the front door, I see the one and fucking only Drew standing on the doorstep, holding a bouquet of red fucking roses.

What the hell is he doing here?

Finley peeks around me, her eyes bulging. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“Excellent question.” I stride toward the front. “I’ll find out.”

“Wait.” Reaching for my arm, Finley pulls me to a stop. Her fingers drag across my lower back as she steps past me, heading for the door.

“Fin,” I warn.

“Give me two minutes.”

She reaches for the door handle, and I watch helplessly from behind her. There are moments. Moments that feel like a lifetime. Moments where you can feel yourself at a crossroads. Hell, you can see it. The inevitable fork, giving you two paths forward. And this? This one feels like it might lead to a cliff, and it’s up to Finley to choose whether we go down it or not.

I’ve felt helpless before. More times than I can count. But right now? Right now, I’ve never felt more helpless in my life, and there’s nothing in the world I can do to stop it.