Page 64 of A Little Secret

“So, about our girls’ night…” I announce. “Are Raine and Dylan joining?”

Ophelia’s lips bunch to one side, mirroring my expression from moments ago, and I have zero doubt she’s debating whether or not to let me change the subject.

Try me.

“Fine,” she humphs. “I’ll drop it. For now.” Her gaze narrows. “And heck yes! Of course, Raine and Dylan are coming. We missed you on our trip.”

“I missed coming on your big vacation. Trust me,” I admit. “But I’m excited for you to tell me all about it tonight.”

“We’ll give you all the gory details, I promise. I’ll even let you pick the movie if you convince Grandma Taylor to let you bake her famous cookies tonight.”

“You know, she’s your grandma, too,” I point out, though it’s not like she needs the reminder. Her dad is my dad’s little brother.

Duh.

“Yeah, but she likes you more,” Ophelia argues.

With a laugh, I counter, “Only because I play the epilepsy card anytime I ask for the recipe.”

Our grandma’s a crazy person who refuses to letanyone have her top-secret recipe. I’d say it’s old age making her a little looney, but my mom swears she’s always been this way. Thankfully, I’ve made the infamous cookies a time or twenty, so I’m pretty sure I have the recipe memorized, even though I’ve been sworn to secrecy. In fact, my grandma’s so protective of the recipe that she’s made me pinkie promise to never write it down for fear of it being stolen. Even though I know the thing by heart, I still call her whenever I’m craving them. Call me a sucker for my childhood, but the cookies will always remind me of summer sleepovers and Mama Taylor’s house. Ophelia has the same memories, but since she isn’t as interested in baking, she usually leaves the process to me, bless her soul.

“Come on, please?” Lia presses her hands together in a prayer gesture. “I have practice today, so with the hour-long phone call we both know it would take to convince Grandma to give me the recipe in the first place, there’s no way I’d have time to make them anyway.”

“Fine,” I cave. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Perfect. Oh, and do you mind if I invite Tatum and Squeaks?” she adds. “They’re kind of…in a weird place, and I think the social time might be good for them.”

Yeah, I think a weird place is an understatement.

Tatum is Ophelia’s little sister. She’s a couple years younger than us but has been taking Maverick’s twin’s death really hard. To be fair, we all have. But I think everyone knows Tatum was in love with Archer, even if he was always too hung up on Ophelia to notice her little sister’s affection for him. Not that it mattered. The results are the same. Ever since the accident, Tatum’s been spiraling. Hard. With Archer’s passing and Tatum holding a grudge the size of Texas against Ophelia and how she treated him, I’m not sure she’ll ever stop spiraling. Her parents have tried everything. Therapy. Space. Time.Nothing has worked, and I’m not sure anything will, especially not hanging out with her older sister when she’s so pissed at her.

As for Squeaks? Well, her real name is Rory. She’s Maverick’s and Archer’s little sister and is the caboose baby for our entire friend group. Recently, the girl has basically refused to show her face around anyone. I think it has something to do with Griffin’s and Dylan’s older brother, Jaxon. Why? Because Rory’s been Jax’s shadow since she could walk, and lately, the girl’s been nothing but a ghost.

So the real question is, what made her disappear? Not gonna lie. I’m curious. So curious I have no problem agreeing to Ophelia’s suggestion. I could use the distraction from Griffin, anyway.

“You know they’re always welcome,” I tell her. “No big deal.”

“Perfect.” Ophelia sighs in relief. “Now to see if I can twist their arms into coming.”

I bite back my scoff. “Good luck.”

Go figure.On my one night off, the girls want Rowdy’s. It wasn’t Dylan’s idea, either. She’s also a waitress at the steakhouse and didn’t plan on coming to work on her night off. To be fair, Tatum and Rory are both underage and don’t have fake IDs like the rest of us. So it's not like we could go to SeaBird. Still. I’ll take what I can get. Even if the ambiance is all too familiar, it’s nice to have a night off. A night away from Griffin. A night where I can bury my head in the sand for a little while longer until I figure out what the hell I’m going to do on the baby front or how the hell I’m going to tell my best friends I screwedup. Twice. Er, three times if we count the whole rejecting Griffin on New Year's bit, but who’s counting?

Besides, it’s still a toss up on that front. It was a mistake.

Wasn’t it?

Honestly, at this point, I have no idea.

As I sit in the passenger seat, munching on one of the chocolate chip cookies Ophelia insisted I make, Dylan turns down the song on the stereo and lifts her chin toward the front door of Maverick’s parents’ house. Ophelia and Raine are on the porch, and Raine lifts her hand, knocking on the solid piece of wood.

“Sometimes I forget Raine knows the Buchanans,” Dylan says.

She isn’t the only one.

“Yeah, it’s sort of weird how her parents are kind of close with Mav’s,” I murmur.

“Right?” Dylan shakes her head and snatches a cookie from the glass container resting on the center console. “Talk about a small world.”