Page 69 of A Little Secret
“I didn’t?—”
“You did,” Ophelia chirps. “We all saw.”
“You saw nothing,” I argue.
“I saw Griffin hungover as shit this morning,” Raine offers.
“Because he had to take allmyshotsandhis,” I point out. “Maybe if you picked a different game, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Yeah, sure. Blame the game,” Ophelia says.
“Griffin doesn’t drink. Not really,” Dylan notes. “Yet, there was a bottle of Jack in his room.”
“Why were you in Griffin’s room?”
“I’m his sister,” she defends. “And you’re missing the point.”
“The point is, you all need to get out of here.” I push Dylan’s shoulder, urging her to stand up. “Go. Take the girls home.”
When she’s on her feet, she faces me again, her gaze narrowing from behind her glasses. “Don’t hurt my brother, okay?”
“You act as if I’m capable.”
“Oh, I think we all know you’re plenty capable,” Ophelia argues.
“She means that in the nicest way possible,” Raine adds.
“Sure, she does.” I snort. “You do know you’re saying this to the girl who was cheated on, right?”
“Yeah, and look who bounced right back,” Dylan says, refusing to budge.
Part of me wants to smack the girl. The other part? I guess I get it. I’m a good liar. So good, it seems I’ve fooled my own best friend. Honestly, I should give myself a pat on the back or some shit, even if her perception of me is a bit warped. Then again, maybe it’s a good thing. Appearing impenetrable. Better to not have a heart than to risk having it broken, right? And yeah, I might not be feeling the ache of Drew’s absence, but the possibility of losing Griff? It’s enough to make me twitchy, which is the last thing I need.
Rocking back on my heels, I wiggle my fingers at my friends. “And on that note, toodle-oo, ladies.”
“Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch, I’m just saying?—”
“I know what you’re saying.”
“No, you don’t,” she rushes out. “My brother might seem like he’s laid back and good at going with the flow, but he’s more than a rebound kind of guy when it comes to you, Fin.”
My lips press into a thin line as the girls each give me their own looks of disapproval.
“She knows,” Ophelia finally answers for me.
And that’s the problem. I do know. And I already crossed that line.
My toes curl in my boots at the memory of our kiss before my face is lit on fire by the recollection of last night. When I gave him the freaking cheek. Seriously? Who does that? Me, that’s who.
“Come on, Dyl. You’ve made your point.” Raine bumps Dylan’s shoulder with hers and hooks her purse over her forearm. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
GRIFFIN
Where are the damn pain meds?
I shouldn’t have drunk last night. Or the previous night. Or any other night since New Year’s. But I’m on edge. The Tornadoes want to reschedule our meeting. I know what they’re going to ask, and my head’s too fucked to come up with an answer. Finley went out with the girls while I was away, and from what I gathered from my conversation with Dylan, she did not tell them about the baby. We got home last night, and even then, I couldn’t help but drown out my questions in alcohol as soon as I stepped through the door. I don’t drink. Not much, anyway. Yet here I am, acting as if the alcohol is fucking water, and I’m nothing more than a goldfish.