Page 4 of A Little Secret

“Yeah, for sure.” She stands, and I watch her walk toward the front door. “Keep it PG, all right?”

“Yeah, okay,Dad.” Wiggling her fingers back and forth as she walks out the door, she adds, “Toodle-oo!”

CHAPTER ONE

FINLEY

A few years later…

It shouldn’t bother me.

It. Shouldn’t. Bother. Me.

For the thousandth time today, I open my phone and look at the random girl’s Instagram post with Drew. My boyfriend. Long-term boyfriend, actually. We’ve been together for almost four years. She tagged him in it. That’s how I found the photo. And I hate it because the stupid picture isjustincriminating enough to mess with my head but innocent enough to pass off as an overreaction if I decide to freak out about it.

Which is exactly what I did thirty minutes ago.

To be fair, Drew and I have been having a lot of overreactions and freakouts lately, so I’m pretty impressed with my current restraint. I could’ve called him and ripped his head off personally. Instead, I punched my pillow a dozen times, screamed until my lungs ached, and seriously considered cutting bangs.

I didn’t, but the day’s still young.

I tap the edge of my cell against my chin.

To call or not to call. That is the question.

Part of me believes overreactions and freakouts are inevitable when it comes to long-distance relationships. The other part? Well, I can’t help but wonder if it’ll always be like this. Fight and make up. Fight and make up. Except the fights are becoming more frequent, and the making up is more difficult thanks to the thousands of miles separating us.

It wasn’t always this way.

Drew was my safe space. My best friend.

Well, other than Ophelia and Dylan. But those two are more like my sisters. We were raised together, becoming three peas in a pod, thanks to our parents. They all went to the same college we attend, Lockwood Ames University, and they weren’t kidding when they promised to be friends forever. Most of my childhood memories involve Aunt Mia, Aunt Ashlyn, and Aunt Blakely in one way or another. The sentiment extends to their husbands and kids. We aren’t all technically related by blood, but I still call them my family.

My mom and dad moved us away from everyone else because of my mom’s job when I was a teen. It was easy to feel lonely when they uprooted me and my brother, Everett. I was convinced I’d never forgive them for taking me away from Lia and Dylan.

Then I met Drew.

I touch the screen again, and my phone lights up, showcasing my boyfriend next to someone who most definitely isn’t me. They’re at a bar. Her arms are looped around his neck, and his hand is on her waist as they smile at the camera. It’s enough to make a person pause, especially a girlfriend who’s across the country from her boyfriend starring in said picture. AKAme.

My nostrils flare, and I hit Drew’s name, dialing his number.

It rings three times, then goes to voicemail.

Throttling my phone, I push his name again and bring my phone to my ear.

Ring. Ring.

“Hello?” Drew croaks.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” I snap.

A groan echoes through the speaker, followed by the sound of rustling sheets. “What did I do now?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a slow breath. “Who’s @mollie69?”

Another groan follows my question. “Fuck, Fin. It’s too early for this.”

“It’s almost noon,” I remind him.

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