Page 149 of A Little Secret
As I push myself to my feet, Griffin murmurs, “Hey, you okay?”
“Bathroom.” Slowly, I waddle toward the bathroom like I’m wearing a fucking diaper. Then again, that’s basically what it is, thanks to all the blood. I hate this. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.
My phone’s been blowing up since the game. Everyone was begging for updates, and I was too angry and depressed to give them one, so I asked Griffin to do the honors.
I’m not sure what he said. I’ve been too terrified to check my phone and see the truth on my screen, but the texts have stopped, and for that, I’m grateful. I should be used to the feeling. Being coddled. Treated like glass. Yet here I am, splintering apart and surrounded by amazing people who are desperate to keep me together, even when it’s useless.
I’m not just splintering. I’m fucking shattered.
After I finish using the restroom, I shuffle back into the family room. A murder documentary is on the television, and for the first time since I stumbled onto the genre, itisn’t comforting. Actually, it only makes me want to cry more.
Fighting the urge to collapse on the cold, hard ground, I whisper, “Turn it off.”
Griffin reaches for the remote, and the screen goes black. When he looks over the back of the couch, his eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot. The sight cuts me even deeper. Because I’m not the only one hurting. I’m not the only one affected by my stupid, broken body that can’t even do what it was made to.
Digging my fingernails into my palms, I bite the inside of my cheek, tasting blood.
“Finley, come here,” Griffin urges. “Come sleep.”
“You can go home if you want.”
“What?” he rasps.
“I said, you can go home. If you want.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Fin.”
Shaking my head back and forth, I whisper, “You didn’t sign up for this.”
“Fin—”
“I’m serious,” I push, shoving my hair away from my face. “You didn’t sign up for this. You should go home and get some sleep. You should?—”
“Fin.” Standing, he rounds the edge of the couch and reaches for my waist.
I shake my head again, pulling away from him. “I can’t…I can’t do this. I can’t do anything. I can’t…”
The words hang in the air, and if he’s hurt, he doesn’t show it. No, the guy’s too perfect for that. He simply looks at me. His hands at his sides. His eyes glassy. His jaw slack.
“I love you, Fin.” It’s so matter-of-fact. So direct. Like the sky is blue or grass is green. It only breaks me more. My shoulders heave as his words wash over me. “I love you, Fin,” he repeats. “Every piece.”
Bottom lip trembling, I bite the edge of my lip and whisper, “I love you, too. I just…” I shove my hair away from my face again, tugging at the roots while hoping and praying the sting is enough to distract me from the pain inside of me. The one ripping me to shreds.
“Hey,” he coos, grabbing my hand and forcing my fingers to relax so I don’t rip my hair out one brutal handful at a time.
He’s right. What am I doing?
I slowly shrug out his hold, the tears falling freely as I press my fingers to my lips. “I, uh, I need to get my head on straight.”
“I’m here.”
I nod. “I know.” I hesitate. “Just so you know, I’m not mad at you, okay? I just…”
“I know you’re not.”
“I know you know, I just…” I lick my chapped lips. “I just need…fuck, I don’t even know what I need.” My teeth dig into the inside of my cheek, hitting the tender flesh all over again and I tongue the wound, hating myself more and more. “Actually, that’s a lie.” I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to ease the deep, sharp,excruciatingpain inside my chest. “I need my baby, Griff.”
He catches me as my legs give out and cradles me against his chest, rubbing his hand along my spine as I sob my eyes out. When he realizes I’ve gone into full-blown mental breakdown mode, he cradles me to his chest and carries me to my room as I ramble against the column of his throat. “I didn’t even want the baby, you know? Not in the beginning. And now?” I claw at his clothes, burying my head against his chest. “Now, I can’t believe he’s gone. I can’t believe I’m not gonna be a mom anymore. I can’t believe any of this.”