Chapter 7 #2
Heat rose to Finn’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” Brendan’s grin was knowing. “That’s why you’ve been making moon eyes at him all morning.”
“I don’t make ‘moon eyes’ at anyone,” Finn protested, though the denial felt hollow even to his own ears.
“Right,” Brendan drawled. “And I’m not the better-looking brother.”
Despite his worry about Brooklyn, Finn fought a reluctant smile. “Definitely not the modest one.”
Brendan’s expression softened slightly. “Look, it’s okay to like him, you know. To want something for yourself for once.”
The simple permission—to want, to feel—caught Finn off guard. He’d spent so long being what everyone needed him to be: reliable dad, dependable worker, solid brother. The idea that he might reach for something purely because it made him happy felt almost transgressive.
“It’s complicated,” he said finally.
“Isn’t it always?” Brendan shrugged. “But maybe complicated is worth it sometimes.”
Before Finn could respond, Brendan was called away to help move a display table, leaving him alone with thoughts he’d been avoiding for weeks.
The morning progressed, the store humming with activity as small groups formed to tackle different aspects of the fundraising campaign. Finn worked with Keaton on budget projections, grateful for the familiar, straightforward task.
“You seem distracted,” Keaton observed after they’d been working in silence for a while. “Everything okay?”
Finn looked up from the list he’d been creating. Keaton wasn’t just his boss but one of his oldest friends—someone who’d seen him through the divorce, through the hardest days of single parenthood.
“Noah says Brooklyn’s struggling at school,” he admitted. “And I’ve been so focused on this project that I missed it.”
Keaton nodded, understanding in his eyes. “That’s tough. But you’re a good dad, Finn. One missed signal doesn’t change that.”
“Maybe.” Finn wasn’t convinced. “It’s just—I feel pulled in too many directions lately.”
“Because of the bookstore?” Keaton asked carefully. “Or because you’re finally realizing you want more of an identity than just being Brooklyn’s dad?”
The directness of the question made Finn pause.
He glanced across the room to where Ollie was gesturing animatedly, explaining something to Maya with that infectious enthusiasm that seemed to light him from within.
The worst part was, he had no choice but to lie to one of his best friends.
Yes, the bookstore and Ollie were both demands on his time, but the biggest issue was the damned book.
Time was ticking away, and he felt no closer to finishing it than he’d been before Keaton called to let him know about the water-damaged bookstore.
“Both,” he admitted quietly. “I’m…drawn to him. In a way that I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.”
The admission hung between them, the first time Finn had voiced it aloud. Keaton didn’t look surprised.
“I figured,” he said simply. “The way you talk about him. The way you look at him when you think no one’s watching. It took me by surprise because you’ve never shown interest in a man before. Is that what this is?”
Finn felt exposed, but not judged. “It’s not just that he’s a man,” he clarified, needing Keaton to understand. “I’ve always been attracted to both. I just never acted on it after Holly and I got together.”
“Okay,” Keaton said, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Finn. Not about this.”
The acceptance—so simple, so complete—loosened something in Finn’s chest. “I don’t know what to do with it,” he confessed.
“Any of it. Brooklyn needs me. I’m trying to help you with more of the project management.
I’ve got work deadlines stacking up. And then there’s Ollie, who makes me feel like maybe I could want more than just surviving from one day to the next. ”
“Sounds to me like you’re finally waking up,” Keaton said thoughtfully. “After being on autopilot for a long-ass time. As for work, please tell me if I’m dumping too much on your plate. I don’t need you burning out and quitting on me.”
The observation hit close to home. Finn had been going through the motions for years, focused on Brooklyn, on work, on being what everyone needed him to be. The idea that he might be waking up to his own desires was both exhilarating and terrifying.
“I’ll be fine,” Finn reassured him. “But with everything else, this isn’t the time for me to be sorting out these feelings.”
“Is there ever a good time to start living again?” Keaton asked, not unkindly.
“Look, I’m not saying you should ignore Brooklyn’s needs or your responsibilities.
I’m just saying that maybe there’s room for you in there too.
And if that means you need to go back to just being my office god, tell me.
While I think your attention to detail could be an asset on job sites, I don’t want it adding more stress to your plate. ”
Before Finn could respond, Maya called everyone back together for a final discussion about the book club’s role in the fundraising efforts. He joined the circle, finding himself seated directly across from Ollie, whose smile sent a now-familiar warmth through his chest.
The discussion was lively, with Maya suggesting themed reading nights that could double as fundraisers. “Romance, mystery, sci-fi—we rotate genres each week and charge a small cover that goes to the renovation fund.”
“I love it,” Ollie enthused. “And for romance night, we could feature Rhett Wilder’s latest series.
It’s set in a small town like ours, and the characters feel so real.
I know it’s a risk with it being an LGBTQ series, but I don’t want to shy away just because some people might not like it.
Not everyone’s going to be into all of the genres, but if we’re doing this, I want to take a stand. ”
Finn froze, his pulse suddenly thundering in his ears. Hearing his pen name spoken so casually, with such genuine admiration, in a room full of people who had no idea of his secret—it was like having the ground shift beneath his feet.
“Oh my god, yes,” Maya agreed eagerly. “His last book was incredible. That scene in the rain where they finally admit their feelings? I sobbed.”
“And the way he writes intimacy,” Ollie added, his cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s not just physical—it’s emotional. Like you can feel the characters’ souls connecting. I know a lot of people right now are into the dark stuff, but I think that would be an even harder draw than two men in love.”
Finn couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but sit there, paralyzed, as the people around him—Ollie especially—dissected and praised his work without having any idea they were speaking to its creator.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, a welcome distraction. Glancing at the screen, he saw his agent’s name and nearly groaned aloud. Of course. Perfect timing.
“Excuse me,” he murmured, standing abruptly. “I need to take this.”
He slipped away from the circle, heart pounding as he headed for the relative privacy of the back office. Behind him, he could hear the conversation continuing, Ollie and Maya still discussing Rhett Wilder’s work with enthusiasm.
“Finn O’Riley,” he answered, keeping his voice low.
“Finn! Good news.” His agent’s voice was bright with excitement. “The Golden Heart Awards just announced their finalists, and guess who’s on the list? Small Town Secrets is nominated for Best Contemporary Series!”
The news should have thrilled him. A Golden Heart nomination was a big deal—one of the highest honors in romance writing.
Books and series that didn’t feature heterosexual pairings almost never made the finals.
Finn should be elated by the news, but all he could think about was how the accolades would make keeping his secret even harder.
“That’s…wow,” he managed. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Well, you should have been. It’s a brilliant series,” his agent continued. “I know it’s unusual for me to call on a weekend, but I couldn’t wait to share this. We need to talk about publicity. The ceremony’s in early December, and they’ll want an author photo, a bio—”
“Diane,” Finn cut in, his voice tight. “You know my situation. I can’t—”
“I know, I know. The pen name is nonnegotiable. But, Finn, this is huge. It could take your career to the next level. Maybe it’s time to consider being more public?”
The suggestion sent a spike of panic through him. “I can’t. Not yet. Brooklyn—”
“Is fifteen, not five,” Diane reminded him gently. “And from what you’ve told me, she’s a pretty open-minded kid.”
“She is, but some of her classmates aren’t. I’m not going to do anything that could negatively impact her,” Finn insisted, pacing the small office. “Can we talk about this later? I’m in the middle of something.”
“Fine, but we need to discuss it soon. The publicity team is going to start ramping up, and they’ll need decisions.”
After promising to call her back on Monday, Finn ended the call and leaned against the office desk, trying to steady his breathing. The walls of his carefully compartmentalized life were starting to crumble, and he wasn’t sure how to shore them up.
“Finn?” Ollie’s voice from the doorway made him straighten abruptly. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Finn said automatically, then caught himself. “Just work stuff. Nothing important.”
That wasn’t the right thing to say. Not only was it the weekend, but almost everyone Finn worked with, including his boss, was here. This was the problem with only being a good liar when it came to guarding his identity and his writing.
Ollie studied him, concern evident in his eyes. “You sure? You look like you saw a ghost.”
The irony of the statement—that the “ghost” was his own alter-ego being discussed—wasn’t lost on Finn. “I’m okay. Really.”
Ollie didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he stepped farther into the office, closing the distance between them slightly.