Page 68 of A Little Secret

“I know you do,” I offer carefully.

Pressing her fingers to her lips, Ophelia nods. “After Archer’s death, Mav and I started going to therapy, and it’s been hard, you know? Hard dealing with survivor’s guilt and all the things we wish could be different while knowing that it’s out of our hands. But then I see Tatum, and she just…isn’t trying.” Her hand falls to the table. “And I know I shouldn’t say that, but she bottles everything up, shoves it down, and refuses to make any room for real emotions. I feel like it’s all my fault, but there isn’t any way to fix it. To fix any of this.”

She’s right. There isn’t. Only time will heal the wounds from Archer’s passing, but only if we let it. Tatum? It’s like she’s picking at the wound, refusing to let the scabs mend her broken heart. Instead, she’ll be left with scars. Irreparable damage. And I’m not the only one who knows it.

“Okay, we should change the subject,” Lia begs. “Please? Anyone? Give me something else to think about.”

“So, uh, did Rory really try to kiss Jax?” Dylan asks. “There’s like a ten-year age gap, not to mention a very illegal aspect to the whole thing. What else did she expect?”

I laugh and cover my face. “I mean, Jaxishot. I can see it.”

“Hey, you’re talking about my brother,” Dylan argues before a Cheshire grin takes up half her face. “Although, speaking of my brothers…”

Clasping my hands in front of me, I clear my throat. “So, are we really going to let Rory and Tatum leave with an Uber?”

“Subtle subject change,” Raine notes.

With a gasp, I clutch at my chest. “Excuse me, but those two girls are under our care, thank you very much.”

Dylan snorts. “Yeah, I’m with Raine on this one. Subtle subject change, Fin.”

Crossing my arms, I lean back in the booth. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong, though.”

“You’re all right,” Ophelia interjects. “Fin, you’re being dumb for avoiding a very simple and juicy question. One we’ll most definitely be pressing you on later, and you’re also being logical by pointing out our current predicament with the two teenagers across the room who hate me.”

“To be fair, I’m pretty sure only Tatum hates you,” I quip.

“Hey, be nice.” Dylan reaches for the straw wrapper and tosses it at me, but it falls flat, spiraling toward the table like a dying bird, and I hold back the urge to make fun of her for it.

Instead, I turn back to Ophelia. “And, if we’re really trying to assess that girl’s emotions, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say your little sister hates everyone, so don’t take it too hard.”

“She’s right,” Raine adds. “Tatum’s mad at the world. Not just you.”

“Thanks,” Lia mutters, though she doesn’t look like she believes us. “But even if it’s true, it’s not like Tatum is going to let me in the car with her again.” She pauses. “Actually, I have an idea. Dylan, will you take the girls home, and I’ll have Mav swing by and pick me up?”

“You sure?” Dylan asks.

Nodding, Ophelia pulls out her phone, and, I assume, sends a quick text to her boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it’s probably the best idea for everyone. Maybe Rory will even come with us?”

“Let them bond,” I say, tilting my head toward theirbooth. “Tatum might be a little older, but they could use each other right now.”

I’m right. I know I am.

Ophelia looks up from her phone and frowns. “So, what? It’s only me and Mav?”

“And me,” I quip. “I could use some space from drama for now, too.”

“Why?” Raine prods. “So you can avoid Dylan’s questions about you and Griff?”

“There is no me and Griff,” I remind her.

“Sure there isn’t.” Raine shares a look with Dylan, making me want to smack them both.

“Stop making those faces,” I grumble around my straw.

“Why? Because you know we’re right?” Raine challenges.

Dylan adds, “He’s been pissy since you rejected him last night.”

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