Chapter 6 #2
The conversation shifted back to fundraising logistics, but something had eased inside Ollie. He was so absorbed in their planning that he didn’t notice the bakery door opening until a familiar voice spoke from behind him.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
Ollie turned to find Finn, a folder tucked under one arm.
“Well, would you look at the time,” Sam announced, standing abruptly. “I just remembered I have a…thing.”
“Yes, the thing,” Jules agreed, gathering their tablet. “The very important thing you asked us to help with.”
Maya rose more gracefully. “We’ll keep working on brainstorming. Text you later, Ollie.”
“Don’t make any major life decisions while we’re gone,” Sam stage-whispered, earning an elbow from Jules as they retreated.
Finn watched them go with a raised eyebrow, then slid into the booth across from Ollie. “Your friends are about as subtle as a wrecking ball.”
“It’s part of their charm,” Ollie said. “What brings you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I thought you’d be supervising the mold team.”
“They’re set up and working,” Finn replied, opening the folder he brought.
“I wanted to give you an update in person. The remediation is scheduled to take three days unless they find something more serious, then we can resume the repairs.” He tapped a document in the folder.
“I’ve been on the phone with your insurance company.
They’re being difficult, but I’ve dealt with worse. ”
“You’ve been fighting with my insurance company?” Ollie asked, surprised.
Finn shrugged. “Someone needed to stay on top of it. I have some experience with persistent negotiation.”
“Thank you,” Ollie said quietly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” Finn’s eyes met his. “How are you holding up? Really?”
The question, simple as it was, cut through Ollie’s carefully constructed facade. He opened his mouth to deliver his standard “I’m fine,” but what came out instead was the truth.
“Not great,” he admitted. “I haven’t slept much. I can’t stop thinking about what happens if we can’t save the store. My parents have worked so hard, and I just—” He cut off, aware that his voice was rising in volume. “Sorry. You came to give me an update, not listen to me fall apart.”
“You’re not falling apart,” Finn said firmly. “You’re dealing with a crisis. There’s a difference.” He paused, studying Ollie’s face. “You look tired, Ollie. Really tired.”
Ollie tried to laugh it off. “I’ve been told I rock the ‘disheveled professor’ look. Very on-brand for a bookstore owner.”
Finn didn’t smile. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
The simple statement landed like a stone in still water. Ollie looked down at his coffee, suddenly finding it hard to meet Finn’s gaze.
“I’m terrified,” he said, the words barely audible. “If this fails, I’ll let down my parents, my friends, myself. I’ve always been the helper, you know? The one who fixes things, who makes people smile. I don’t know how to be the one who needs help.”
Finn was quiet for a moment, his large hands wrapped around his coffee mug. When he spoke, his voice was low.
“After Holly left, I was determined to do everything on my own.” He met Ollie’s eyes. “No matter how many times people assured me I could ask them for help, I was certain that would prove I was incapable of taking care of Brooklyn.”
The admission—so honest, so unexpectedly vulnerable from someone as contained as Finn—caught Ollie off guard. “How did you get over it?”
“I reached a point where the choice was taken from me,” Finn admitted with a small, wry smile. “I was falling apart, working all day and then trying to be both parents for Brooklyn. I promised myself from the day Holly left that our daughter wouldn’t suffer for her selfishness.”
“What happened?” Ollie asked, genuinely curious.
“I burned the candle at both ends until there was nothing left but a nub,” Finn said. “I got sick, and my friends and Brendan thumped me upside the head to let them take care of us.”
“That sounds familiar,” Ollie said softly. “But you have family in the area. Couldn’t they have helped you?”
“I’m sure they would have, but I did everything I could to make sure my parents didn’t know what was going on.
It was right after Dad got sick, and Mom was busy taking care of him.
I didn’t need her worried about me too.” Finn’s thumb traced the rim of his mug.
“It’s hard. Letting people see the cracks. Letting them help.”
“Especially when you convince yourself they’ll think less of you once they see the mess,” Ollie added, the words escaping before he could filter them.
Finn nodded slowly, his expression softening. “That’s what I meant. You understand.”
Ollie felt strangely exposed, as if Finn could see straight through him to all the fears he usually kept hidden beneath jokes and energy.
“I’m afraid,” Finn said finally, his voice hushed, “of wanting things. Of letting myself care too much. What if it gets taken away?”
The raw honesty in his voice made Ollie’s chest ache. Without thinking, he reached across the table, his fingers stopping just short of Finn’s.
“What if it doesn’t?” he asked softly.
Finn stared at Ollie’s outstretched hand, something complicated and yearning passing across his usually stoic features. For a moment, Ollie thought he might reach out, might bridge that final distance between them.
Instead, Finn glanced at his watch and sighed. “I should get back to the store. Make sure everything’s progressing.”
“Of course,” Ollie said, withdrawing his hand and ignoring the pang of disappointment. “Thank you for stopping by. And for dealing with the insurance company.”
Finn nodded, gathering his folder as he stood. “I’ll keep you updated on the progress. And, Ollie?”
“Yes?”
“Your friends are right. You don’t have to do this alone.”
They walked to the door together, navigating between tables in the now-crowded bakery. Ollie, distracted by the swirl of emotions from their conversation, nearly collided with Finn as they reached the entrance.
“Sorry,” he murmured, stepping back—but not before their hands brushed, a fleeting contact that sent electricity up his arm.
Instead of pulling away, Finn let his hand linger, his fingers curling slightly around Ollie’s. The touch was deliberate, unmistakable. His thumb traced a small circle on the back of Ollie’s hand before squeezing gently.
Ollie looked up, meeting Finn’s gaze. Neither spoke—they didn’t need to.
“Take care of yourself,” Finn said finally, his voice rough around the edges. “Let them help where you can.”
“Thanks,” Ollie replied, barely above a whisper, “for not letting me fake it.”
Finn held his gaze a moment longer, then released his hand and stepped outside. Ollie watched him go, aware of a tingling warmth spreading from his hand throughout his body.
He was still standing there when his friends returned, their expressions varying from Sam’s knowing smirk to Jules’s raised eyebrows to Maya’s gentle smile.
He wouldn’t be surprised if they were standing just out of sight, waiting for Finn to leave so they could hound him for a rundown of what they’d talked about.
He wasn’t going to tell them it was anything other than professional. They’d take Finn’s concern and run with it to the point they’d have Ollie convinced Finn was interested in him, which would only set him up for further heartbreak.
“So,” Sam drawled. “That was interesting.”
“Shut up,” Ollie said without heat, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
“I don’t think I will,” Sam replied cheerfully. “Not when you’re looking at that man like you want to eat him for dessert.”
“We have a bookstore to save,” Ollie reminded them, trying and failing to sound stern. “Focus, people.”
“Oh, we’re focused,” Jules assured him, their eyes twinkling. “On multiple fronts.”
The conversation returned to logistics—dates, promotional materials, potential sponsors—but something had shifted inside Ollie. The problems remained, the challenges were still daunting, but they no longer felt insurmountable.
Hours later, after his friends had left and the bakery was nearly empty, Ollie’s phone buzzed with a text from Finn.
The remediation team said they should be done by Friday. I’ll stop by this weekend to check on everything so Brendan and his guys can get back at it on Monday.
Ollie stared at the message.
You don’t have to do that.
I know. I want to.
Three simple words, but they carried weight. Ollie smiled, feeling lighter than he had in days.
Thank you.
For everything.
Ollie was starting to sound like a broken record, but he wanted Finn to know how much he appreciated him going above and beyond.
The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared.
That’s what friends do.
Friends. Was that what they were? He thought about that fleeting moment before Finn left when he rubbed Ollie’s hand. Was it possible they could be something more? He almost didn’t want to let himself believe he stood a chance.
See you then
Count on it.
Ollie set down his phone, a small smile playing on his lips. Maybe it was okay to want more. Maybe it was okay to need help sometimes. Maybe he wasn’t alone after all.