Page 84 of A Little Secret
Fuck. She really didn’t turn him down?
I scrub my hand over my face.
We agreed to keep our relationship quiet, not to act like it doesn’t exist in the first place. Is she really interested in seeing other people?
“One minute,” Coach calls from his office. Lifting hispointer finger into the air, he makes a tiny circle, adding, “Wrap it up.”
We head back to the ice and win the game, three to one. I wind up in the penalty box. Twice. Once for roughing a player and another time for high sticking. It was a dick move, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m too amped up. Too frustrated. Too caught up in my own head and what Dreggs meant versus what Finley wants and where the hell I fit into it.
But the worst part? Is knowing the Tornadoes’ GM saw me play like shit for the last two periods of the game after I had already declined his offer to move me up to their team for the remainder of the season. But I can’t make myself care. Not when I’m so wrapped up in my best friend’s little sister.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
FINLEY
They won. It was a good game, and my throat is officially sore from cheering so loud. Everyone’s already in the hall. Everyone but Griff.
“Are we having a Game Night or what?” Reeves asks us. “My phone’s been blowing up with people asking since the first period ended. Pickles?” he prods, using his favorite nickname for my best friend.
Dylan shrugs and loops her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a quick peck. “I’m good with whatever.”
“I’m okay with a Game Night,” Raine adds. “What do you think, Ev?”
My brother nods. “Works for me.” Glancing at the closed locker room, he frowns.
“Is Griff still in there?” I ask.
His head bobs again. “I don’t know what’s taking him so long.”
“Probably pissed he lost his head in the second and third periods,” Reeves interjects. “Did you hear the Tornadoes’ GM was here?”
Everett’s brows hitch. “You noticed, too, huh?”
“Yeah,” Reeves answers. “It would fuck with my head, too.”
“Fuck,” my brother mutters. “Let’s give him some space. Fin, you wanna ride with me and Raine back to the house?”
“A friend from one of my classes texted and asked if I wanted to catch up after the game,” I lie as my attention moves from the closed locker room door to Everett. “I’ll see if she can give me a ride to the house.”
“You sure?” he asks. “I don’t mind waiting.”
“I’m good, promise.” Rising onto my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek. “But thank you for being a super duper overprotective brother who always looks out for me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Be safe.”
“I will. Oh, and”—I snap my fingers—“on the off-chance she can’t drop me off, I’ll just text Griff since it seems like he’ll be here for a while.” I tilt my head toward the locker room. “No biggie.”
Everett hesitates but winds up nodding as I pass hugs around to the rest of the group like they’re confetti. Once I’m finished, my friends head toward the exit. I start in the opposite direction before peeking over my shoulder and slipping into the men’s locker room when the coast is clear.
The door is heavy and creaks in protest as I push it open, praying I don’t get caught. The musty, stale scent of sweat and leather mixes with the humid air, and my stomach curdles. Either I’ve forgotten how smelly a locker room can be, or these pregnancy hormones are messing with my sense of smell. Regardless, I press my hand to my stomach and inch further into the space. One of the showers is on. The familiar whoosh of rushing water echoes off the cinder block walls as I tiptoe past the coach’s office. It’s empty. Everyone’s gone home for the day. Mostof the lights are off, leaving an eerie glow as the steam spills out of the showers.
With a squeak from the pipes, the water cuts off, and I call out, “Griff?”
Silence.
“Fin?”
I can hear the confusion in his voice, and my lips tug up. “Yeah, it’s me.”