Page 105 of A Little Secret

“Because you’re Henry Buchanan,” I remind him.

He scratches his jaw, his gaze never leaving mine. “Your stats are good, Griff. Hell, they’re on par with your father’s when he was at LAU, but I have to take into account my current roster. My current players. I need defensemen, not right wings or centers,” he adds. He’s right. Mav plays defense. Ev and I are forwards. It’s not an even swap.

“Like I said, we both know Mav’s contract fell through,” I murmur. “And I know shit is complicated, but I wouldn't be here if I didn’t need this favor.”

His sigh lingers in the air, leaving me even more anxious as he continues holding my stare. I can see the wheels turning. The calculations we both know he’s weighing. The pros and cons and everything in between.

“Uncle Henry, please.”

“I’ll only be able to take on one of you, and that’s if I can convince the coach to trade one of our offense for a current defender to make room for a rookie.” He grits his teeth. “Erickson and Collins might be older, but they still have fight in them. Convincing the GM to let them go and make room for a rookie, even a rookie with incredible stats,” he gives me a pointed look, “isn’t an easy feat.”

“I know.”

“I can’t make any guarantees.”

“Your willingness to try is more than enough,” I reply.

Leaning back in his desk chair, he asks, “Does anyone else know?”

I shake my head.

“Well, then.” He stands and offers his hand. When I take it, he adds, “Congratulations, Griff. Being a parent is…” He swallows thickly, and I know he’s thinking of Archer and Maverick and Rory. About burying his son, canceling the other’s NHL contract, and raising his youngest, who’s going through the thick of it with no end in sight.

Suddenly, I feel like shit. For letting him make assumptions about my paternal involvement. For swaying the situation in my favor instead of Everett’s. For using a sore spot against him. All of it. But I bite my fucking tongue. Because if I don’t. If I tell him I’m not the biological father, there’s a chance I won’t be able to stay in Lockwood Heights, and the idea of Finley being alone as she raises a baby on her own is more than I can handle.

“You’re a good dad, Uncle Henry.” I wipe my sweaty palms against my slacks. “One of the best.”

His dark eyes turn to glass, his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and he nods. “When are you going to tell the family?”

I lift a shoulder. “I’m letting Finley take the lead on that front.”

He nods again. “Well, if you need anything in the meantime, let me know. I’ll see what I can do on my end.”

“Thanks, Uncle Henry.”

“We’re here for you, Griff.” As I smooth out the front of my dress shirt and stand, he adds, “And Griff?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll have my GM and the coach, if I can swing it, come to tomorrow’s game and see what they think. If you impress them, it’ll help your chances.” He gives me another pointed look. “Don’t screw it up.”

“I won’t.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

FINLEY

It’s early. And cold. I tuck my toes between Griffin’s calves as he lays on his back. The guy doesn’t even flinch from the temperature, but his chest rumbles under my cheek. “You’re freezing.”

Yesterday afternoon, he sent me a text asking if I wanted to binge murder documentaries and eat junk food. Obviously, I obliged, then jumped his bones and fell asleep on his chest. Now, here we are. Sharing a bed and soaking up each other’s warmth as the morning light slips through the blinds.

Lifting my head, I look up at him. “Good thing I have my own personal heater to share a bed with me.” I grin. “How’d you sleep?”

“Okay.” He hesitates and rubs at his tired eyes. “You?”

“Just okay?” I nudge the divot between his ribs. “Figured last night’s orgasm would’ve knocked you out.”

A low chuckle reverberates through his chest. “It should’ve.” Trailing his hand along my bare spine, he dips lower and squeezes my butt. “You’re good at knocking me on my ass.”

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