Chapter 10 #2
“Or maybe,” Jules countered gently, “he’s a single dad trying to balance his responsibilities with his own wants.
I can’t imagine it’s easy for someone everyone thinks is straight to explore their feelings.
You know how people can be in this town.
Not everyone, but there are plenty of people who have opinions on a single dad being bi or gay or whatever.
But that’s for him to sort out. Have you considered that he might be just as scared as you are? ”
When Jules put it that way, Ollie felt selfish and needy. He needed to give Finn the space to sort through things in his own mind before they talked. He didn’t owe Ollie answers on a timeline. “You’re right. And he admitted that he’s scared, but he doesn’t need to be.”
“Of course he does. This is new to him,” Jules pointed out. “Finn’s spent years putting Brooklyn first and his own needs on the back burner. Maybe he’s not sure how to want something for himself.”
Ollie absorbed this, turning it over in his mind. The idea that Finn—steady, dependable Finn—might be as uncertain as he was felt both comforting and terrifying.
“What if I’m not worth the hassle?” he asked, voicing the fear that had been lurking beneath all his other anxieties. “What if he decides that whatever this is between us isn’t worth the risk?”
Jules reached out, squeezing his hand. “Then he’s an idiot. But, Ollie, you can’t control his thoughts. You can only decide what you’re willing to risk.”
“That’s the problem,” Ollie admitted, his voice catching. “I’m scared of how much I’m willing to risk for him. I barely know him, but I can’t stop thinking about him. About us. About what could be.”
“That’s not a problem,” Jules said firmly. “That’s courage. And it’s one of the things I love most about you—you feel things deeply. You don’t hold back.”
“Except I do,” Ollie countered, surprising himself with the admission. “I hold back all the time. I pretend I’m fine when I’m falling apart. I don’t ask for what I want because I’m afraid of being disappointed. I pour everything into helping others so I don’t have to face my own needs.”
The self-awareness hung between them, raw and unexpected. Jules smiled, a mixture of pride and sadness in their eyes.
“Then maybe it’s time to stop holding back,” they suggested softly. “With Finn. With the bookstore. With yourself.”
Before Ollie could respond, a knock at the office door interrupted them. Sam poked her head in, her expression apologetic.
“Sorry to interrupt the heart-to-heart, but Finn’s here. And he looks like he’s about to bolt if someone doesn’t talk to him soon.”
Ollie’s heart lurched painfully in his chest. “He’s here? Now?”
Sam nodded. “By the front counter. Looking like he’s mentally rehearsing whatever he’s going to say. I’d go over and give him a hug, but that’d be weird. Right?”
“Definitely weird.” Jules squeezed Ollie’s hand once more before standing. “Remember what I said. You deserve to ask for what you want.”
With that, Jules followed Sam out, leaving Ollie alone to gather his courage. He took a deep breath, straightened his glasses, and stepped out of the office.
Finn stood by the counter, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. When he spotted Ollie, something flickered across his face—relief, uncertainty, and something warmer that made Ollie’s breath catch.
“Hey,” Finn said as Ollie approached.
“Hey, yourself,” Ollie replied, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “How’s Brooklyn?”
Finn’s expression softened at the mention of his daughter. “Better, I think. We talked last night. She’s been having trouble with some girls at school—typical teenage drama, but it hit her hard. She promised to stop skipping class.”
“That’s good,” Ollie said, genuinely relieved. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“I don’t know about that,” Finn admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t shake the feeling that I keep missing something when it comes to her.”
“Have you stopped to think she’s probably going out of her way to make sure you don’t notice anything’s amiss?
And when you found out what was going on, you didn’t waste any time showing her you were there for her,” Ollie pointed out gently.
“That’s what matters. And don’t beat yourself up too much, kids are good at hiding shit they’re going through because parents obviously don’t know what they’re talking about. ”
Finn let out a tiny chuckle, and the corner of his mouth tipped up.
That was a start. Ollie hated the thought that Finn really believed he was somehow lacking as a parent when Brooklyn was being a typical teenager.
Ollie had been a lot like her at that age.
He didn’t tell his parents about the kids bullying him for being queer because they were fiercely protective of him.
They’d have wanted to do something, and they never would have accepted that their actions could make things even worse.
The weight of everything left unsaid hung between them. Around them, the bookstore hummed with activity—Sam and Maya arranging a display, Jules talking with a customer who was interested in one of their paintings. It was the most action the store had seen in months.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier,” Finn said finally. “It was a rough morning.”
“It’s okay,” Ollie assured him. “Family comes first. Always.”
Finn studied him, something complicated passing across his features. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?”
Ollie nodded, leading the way to the reading nook in the back corner.
It wasn’t truly private, but the tall shelves created a sense of seclusion, and the soft chairs offered a place to sit.
As they settled across from each other, Ollie was acutely aware of the distance between them—physical and otherwise.
“About last night,” Finn began, his voice low, eyes fixed on a point somewhere past Ollie’s shoulder.
“It’s okay if you regret it,” Ollie interrupted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. His fingers twisted anxiously in his lap, knuckles whitening. “The kiss, I mean. I get it. You have Brooklyn to think about, and the timing is terrible, and—”
“Ollie,” Finn cut in, his voice gentle but firm. He leaned forward, the movement bringing a hint of his cologne—something woodsy and warm—into Ollie’s space. His eyes, usually guarded, held Ollie’s with unexpected intensity. He pressed a finger to Ollie’s lips. “I don’t regret it.”
The simple statement stopped Ollie’s spiral in its tracks. His breath caught audibly. “You don’t?”
“No,” Finn said, meeting his gaze directly. A muscle in his jaw tightened, then relaxed. “Not for a second.”
Relief washed over Ollie, so powerful it left him momentarily speechless. His shoulders dropped from where they’d been tensed nearly to his ears. “Oh.”
“But,” Finn continued, and Ollie’s heart sank at that single syllable.
Finn’s fingers drummed once, twice against his thigh before stilling.
“You’re right about the timing. Brooklyn needs me right now.
She’s struggling, and I can’t divide my attention the way I’d need to if we…
” His throat worked as he swallowed. “If this became something more.”
The careful phrasing—“if this became something more”—hung between them, both promise and postponement. Ollie swallowed hard, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. He nodded, the movement jerky, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose.
“I understand,” he said, and he did, even as disappointment washed over him. He pushed his glasses back up with a slightly trembling finger. “Brooklyn should be your priority. She needs you.”
“She does,” Finn agreed, relief evident in his expression.
His shoulders relaxed fractionally, but his eyes remained locked on Ollie’s, darkening with something unspoken.
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this.
Want you.” His voice dropped on the last words, rough with emotion.
The tips of his ears reddened slightly. “I just need time. To help Brooklyn through whatever’s going on.
To figure out how to balance everything. ”
Ollie nodded, trying to focus on the hope in Finn’s words rather than the delay they represented. He bit his lower lip, releasing it slowly. “Time. I can do that.”
“Are you sure?” Finn asked, searching Ollie’s face.
His brow furrowed, creating a small crease between his eyebrows that Ollie had the sudden, inappropriate urge to smooth away with his thumb.
“Because I’d understand if you didn’t want to wait.
If you wanted someone who doesn’t come with so much baggage. ”
The vulnerability in Finn’s expression made Ollie’s chest ache in an entirely different way. He reached across the space between them, his hand covering Finn’s briefly. The contact sent a visible shiver through both of them.
“I don’t need something easy,” he said softly, gaze dropping momentarily to Finn’s lips before returning to his eyes. “I need something honest. And whatever’s happening between us—it matters to me. It feels real.”
Finn’s fingers curled around his, a brief, warm squeeze that sent electricity up Ollie’s arm. His thumb brushed deliberately across Ollie’s knuckles. “It matters to me too. More than I expected.”
They sat there for a moment, connected by that small point of contact, the air between them charged with possibility and restraint in equal measure. Then Finn reluctantly pulled his hand away, glancing at his watch.
“I should go,” he said, regret evident in his voice. “I promised Brooklyn we’d have lunch together. Try to reconnect a bit.”
“Of course,” Ollie said, ignoring the hollow feeling in his chest. “Go. Be with your daughter.”
Finn stood, hesitating for a moment as if there was more he wanted to say. Instead, he simply nodded. “I’ll call you. Soon.”
“I’ll be here,” Ollie replied, managing a smile that felt only slightly forced.