Page 94 of A Little Secret
He’s been here for a while.
As I approach, the rhythm of his curls staggers, but he doesn’t look at me. Not directly or in the mirrors lining the gym’s walls. Nah, he’s pretending I don’t exist.
Real mature, man.
Tucking my hands in my coat pockets, I ask, “Hey, can we talk?”
Metal clanks together as he sets the free weights down and adds another forty pounds to each side of the bench press without acknowledging me.
Yeah, the guy’s pissed.
He should be. I not only went back on a promise I made when we were kids, but I did it without giving him a heads-up, and, knowing how this guy operates, it’s the worst way I could’ve handled everything.
Stepping closer, I squeeze the back of my neck. “Ev, I know I fucked up.”
He scoffs. “You think?”
“Not about kissing your sister, but?—”
He scoffs again. “Is that all you were doing, Griff? Kissing her?”
My head falls forward, and shame fills my gut. At this point, it’s familiar, but it doesn’t make the feeling any less potent or crippling. Doesn’t mean he needs to be an ass about it, though.
“I know I should’ve told you I was going to make a move before I went through with it,” I admit, “but it just…happened, all right? And then, she wanted to keep it a secret, and…I’m sorry.”
“Let me get this straight,” he challenges, giving me his full attention. “You’re not sorry for failing to ask me permission, but you’re sorry for not keeping me in the loop when you crossed a line? That’s the angle you’re gonna take?”
I shrug, unsure what else to say. “Guess so.”
“Good to know.” He turns back to the weights and lies on the bench press, preparing to work his chest. I make a mental note of the amount of weight he’s using, then get into position to spot him without waiting for a request.
The guy might be pissed, but he isn’t Superman.
“Look, your sister’s a grown adult, and whether or not you want to admit it, you have nothing to do with her dating life, and you sure as shit shouldn’t have any say in it.”
“And here I thought you were apologizing,” he mutters under his breath as he grips the bar.
“I’m apologizing as your friend, not your sister’s boyfriend,” I clarify. “You know I’d never hurt her.”
He glares up at me, his knuckles turning white as he squeezes the bar in his hands. “And what happens when you leave? You sure that won’t hurt her?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“What about the Tornadoes? Your contract? What then?” He lowers the bar toward his sternum, his nostrils flaring. “She’s already done long distance once.” Everett shoves the bar back up. “You really think she deserves to be dragged through that hellhole twice?”
“It isn’t up to you,” I remind him. “It’s Finley’s decision, and it’s not like I coerced her or some shit. She cares about me, too.”
“Of course she does.” His face reddens as he does another rep, staring at the ceiling. “She’s had a thing for you since she was a kid.”
“Then what’s the problem? You hated Drew, but even with him, you didn’t put up this much of a fight, which, if we’re being honest, is a low blow, Ev,” I mutter. “Why do you not want me with Fin?”
His jaw locks. “I never gave a”—another rep—“shit about Drew because I knew it wouldn’t last. I knew he wasn’t the one for her.”
“And I am?” I challenge.
He lowers the bar again, then shoves it up, making sure to keep his elbows from locking. Gotta give the guy credit.He must be tapping into his inner Hulk or some shit because he’s bench-pressing more weight than I’ve ever seen.
Still refusing to look at me, he grunts, “You have. The power. To break her.”