Page 2 of Girl Going Nowhere

“You don’t have to do that,” I tell Finn, smiling at the way he cradles the sleeping three-year-old against his shoulder.

Finnley Wilder. When I moved into Brodie, Dante, and Finn’s four-bedroom apartment in Queens almost three years ago, it was because ofhisad I answered online. I’d been desperate after my previous living arrangement fell through and wasn’t above begging them to give me a chance. With big, fat, ugly tears on the ready.

For obvious reasons, they’d been reluctant to agree. It was Finn who convinced his friends to give me a six-month trial and see how it went after Brodie and Dante protested that having a girl with a baby around would bring down their bachelor status.

And here we are, all this time later.

Oddly, we all get along well. Both Brodie and Dante work in sports journalism, so I used what little I knew about baseball to bond with them, hoping to win them over. And when a little too much tequila was consumed shortly after moving in, the truth about my past came to light. My midnight confession about who Maia’s father is changed their admiration for the Phillie’s right fielder when they found out the length he went through to silence me about her existence.

I feel a little bad about it. Their jobs are to highlight people like Dover. The online magazine they work for,Sports Pact,did more articles on him compared to any other publication because of the record-breaking stats he and the entire Philadelphia team had in the past two years. Brodie chose to take on other stories featuring up-and-coming athletes after finding out the truth about the man they idolized. Dante stuck with whatever he was assigned, including Dover, for the money. I can’t say I blame him. If I were in his shoes, I probably would have done the same if it meant a good paycheck.

“I know I don’t have to,” Finn tells me, carefully standing up and walking Maia over to the twin bed he’d helped put together with Brodie when it was time to get rid of her crib.

The guys have been wrapped around her little finger since we moved in. It didn’t take long at all before her cute little face won them over. If it weren’t for her ability to sleep through the night and be the least fussy kid I know, we probably would have wound up somewhere far less nice.

He sets her down with ease without waking her up, smiling down at her as she hugs the blanket Brodie gave her for her birthday last year when she was going through herLittle Mermaidphase. It’s pink and purple with mermaids all over it. Even though she’s moved on to loving everything horse-themed, she’s still obsessed with that thing because of who gifted it to her.

I walk over, wrap one of my arms around his, and rest my cheek on his shoulder. He’s not much taller than my five feet seven inches and fits every stereotype known to man about tech nerds.

He isn’t overly bulky like Dante or Brodie, but he’s not scrawny either. Whenever we go to the gym together, he can outrun me on the treadmill and still musters the energy to lift weights before I even finish my workout. He wears glasses thicker than the ones I have to put on to read and has a collection of bow ties that I still tease him for whenever I get the chance. Brodie called him the Walmart brand Grant Gustin after Finn’s favorite show,The Flash.

Weirdly, I sort of see it.

The software developer staring idly down at my daughter pulls in close to six figures a year, a far cry from the income I make working as a receptionist at the local doctor’s office. It never made sense to me why he wanted roommates in the first place when he could easily afford to live on his own wherever he wanted since we’re outside the city. But I also have to acknowledge that his career is a big reason why he’s never upset about my rent being a little late or the few times I can’t contribute to the smaller bills like electric or heat.

And the biggest thing I love about the softy standing beside me is that he hates sports. Which means I don’t have to pretend like a part of my soul dies whenever a certain man pops up on the television screen being praised by sportscasters and swooned over by fans.

“She’s getting so big.” I sigh in disbelief, pushing my thoughts away.

He rests his cheek on the top of my head as we watch the little girl sleep peacefully. “She really loves the new bed.”

The day they put together her big girl bed, I’d been inconsolable. Brodie brought me my favorite hot chocolate to comfort me, Finn bribed me with trash TV, and Dante hid in his room until I stopped crying because it made him uncomfortable.

“You smell like sex,” Finn informs me.

I blush, wondering if I should deny it.

“That guy was using you, Blake,” he says.

The disapproving tone in his voice has my lips wavering downward. “Maybe I was using him, Finn. Ever think of that?”

Pulling away, I don’t bother looking at his face. The last thing I want to see is judgment. I’ve already been told by plenty of other people that I’m self-destructive. He doesn’t need to be the next one to point it out.

“Good night,” I tell him, squeezing his arm, pecking Maia on the head, and walking to my room.

I never thought I would have been the twenty-four-year-old who cried over her little girl getting a regular bed and getting her feelings hurt when people found out I had sex.

How did I get here?

Old memories of careless times resurface, reminding me exactly why I’m standing in an apartment with three men and a toddler.

It all started at the wedding.

CHAPTER TWO

Blake

“Are you herefor the bride or groom?”

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