Chapter 11 #2
As he was pulled away to referee the great fantasy segregation debate, Finn caught sight of Ollie behind the counter, laughing at something Jules had said. The sound carried across the store, bright and genuine, making something in Finn’s chest tighten with longing.
Later, as the event hit its stride, Finn stepped behind the counter to help Ollie pack books while he checked out the customers. They worked in companionable silence for a moment, their hands occasionally brushing as they moved around the small space.
“You’re good at this,” Ollie observed, nodding toward the store at large. “The community thing. For someone who claims to be socially grumpy, you fit right in.”
Finn raised an eyebrow. “I never claimed to be socially grumpy.”
“You didn’t have to. It was implied by all the…” Ollie gestured vaguely at Finn’s entire person, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “The brooding competence. The monosyllabic responses. The way you look like you’re calculating escape routes whenever more than three people are talking at once.”
Despite himself, Finn smiled. “Maybe I’m just selective about where I spend my social energy.”
“And you chose to spend it here,” Ollie said softly, the teasing giving way to something warmer. “With us. I’m honored.”
The simple observation hit Finn with unexpected force. He had chosen this—not just today, but over the past weeks. He’d chosen to stay involved with the bookstore even after the construction was complete.
“As you should be,” he teased, his voice rougher than he intended.
Ollie’s eyes met his, warm and understanding. “Brooklyn seems to be enjoying herself. I saw her actually smile at that trivia question about dystopian governments.”
Finn glanced toward his daughter, who was now deep in conversation with Isabel and another girl, their heads bent together over a book.
“She loves this stuff. Always has. Even when she was little, she gravitated toward stories about brave kids saving the world when she wasn’t devouring non-fiction. ”
“Takes after her dad then,” Ollie said, bumping Finn’s shoulder lightly. “The whole ‘saving things’ vibe.”
“I don’t know about that,” Finn admitted, the words slipping out before he could filter them. “Some days I feel like I’m failing her completely. Like I’m missing something important, something that would help me understand what she’s going through.”
The confession hung between them, more vulnerable than Finn had intended. Ollie was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful.
“You know what I see?” he said finally. “I see a father who shows up. Who tries. Who cares enough to worry about whether he’s doing it right.” He gestured toward Brooklyn. “And I see a kid who, despite whatever she’s going through, still came here today because you asked. That’s huge, Finn.”
The simple reassurance—offered without platitudes or judgment—eased something tight in Finn’s chest. “How do you know so much about parenting?”
“I don’t,” Ollie admitted with a small smile. “But I know something about feeling lost and found at the same time. About needing space but also connection.” He hesitated, then added softly, “About wanting to be seen for who you are, not just what you can do for others.”
The words resonated deep in Finn’s chest, a truth he’d never quite articulated to himself. Before he could respond, the door chimed, and a group of teens entered, laughing and talking over each other.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing better than you give yourself credit for,” Ollie said, but he lingered a moment longer, his eyes holding Finn’s.
As Ollie moved to greet the newcomers, Finn remained at the counter, the warmth of their conversation settling around him like a favorite sweater.
Across the store, he caught Brooklyn watching him, her expression curious and slightly guarded.
When their eyes met, she didn’t look away immediately, the way she would have days ago.
Instead, she offered a small, tentative nod before turning back to her friends.
It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress.
The afternoon wore on, the event flowing smoothly from trivia rounds to book discussions to a surprisingly competitive game of literary charades.
Finn joined Ollie’s friends—Jules with their dry humor, Sam’s unfiltered commentary, Maya’s quiet competence—and realized they’d begun to feel like his friends too.
“So,” Sam said, sidling up to him as he restocked the refreshment table, “at what point do you and Ollie quit dancing around one another and admit you want to bump uglies?”
Finn nearly dropped the plate of cookies he was arranging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t,” Sam agreed cheerfully. “Just like I don’t know how much time you’ve been spending here when it’s not strictly required for work. Very convincing, both of us.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?” Finn asked, though there was no real irritation in his tone.
Sam’s expression softened slightly. “Just that he’s happy when you’re around. Happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. And you seem…less like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.” She shrugged. “Take that information and do with it what you will.”
Before Finn could respond, Brooklyn appeared at his elbow, slightly breathless from the charades game. “Dad, can I get some money? Isabel says they have the new Leigh Bardugo.”
The simple request—so normal, so reminiscent of the easy relationship they used to have—made Finn’s heart squeeze. “Sure,” he said, reaching for his wallet, handing her his credit card. “Get whatever you want.”
Brooklyn’s eyes widened slightly. “Really? No budget lecture?”
“Consider it a reward for running the best trivia this store has ever seen.” She’d done a great job today, and she deserved to splurge a bit.
A small, genuine smile curved Brooklyn’s lips. “It’s probably the only trivia contest they’ve ever run here, but I’ll take it.” She hesitated, then added, “Thanks, Dad.”
As she hurried off toward the young adult section, Sam let out a low whistle. “Wow. An actual ‘thanks’ from a teenager. You must be doing something right.”
“Or she really wants that book,” Finn said, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face.
Later, as the event began to wind down, Finn wandered toward the new release table, where Ollie was enthusiastically recommending books to a small group of teens. His hands moved animatedly as he spoke, his passion for stories evident in every gesture.
“And if your kids liked those series, you should definitely check out some of the new contemporary YA coming next month,” Ollie was saying to a couple of moms. He turned to address a woman who appeared particularly interested.
“We’re also hosting a special adult book club event for Rhett Wilder’s latest release—though that’s definitely for the grown-ups only. ”
Finn froze, a pit forming in his stomach.
Hearing his pen name spoken so casually, with such genuine enthusiasm, was still disorienting, a collision of his carefully separated worlds.
Every time Ollie sang his praises, not knowing the man he spoke so animatedly about was right in front of him, guilt ate at Finn’s gut like battery acid.
“Is he a local author?” Melissa, one of the mothers standing nearby, asked. It was a fair question since Ollie was working so hard to curate books by authors from the area.
Ollie shook his head. “Sadly, no. He’s notoriously private—no public appearances, no signings.
Just these amazing books that have really put small-town romance on the map.
” He glanced up, spotting Finn, and his face brightened.
“Finn! I was just telling Melissa here about our upcoming adult book club events. You should join us for the Wilder discussion. I think it would be cool to have a mix of all genders there.”
The irony of the situation might have been funny if it weren’t so terrifying. Finn stepped closer, careful to keep his expression neutral. “We’ll have to see. You’ve had nothing but good things to say about him,” he managed, the understatement of the century burning on his tongue.
“Good things?” Ollie repeated incredulously. “That’s like saying the ocean is a bit damp. His books are transformative. The way he writes about love and vulnerability and finding your place… It’s like he sees right into your soul.”
Pride and panic warred in Finn’s chest. Hearing Ollie talk about his work with such passion was intoxicating, but the secret between them felt suddenly heavier, more consequential.
What would Ollie think if he knew? Would he feel betrayed?
Lied to? Would it change how he saw Finn—not as the steady, reliable office manager, but as a fraud who wrote explicit gay romance under a pseudonym and didn’t have the courage to admit it?
And what about Brooklyn? She was just starting to find her footing again. How would she react to learning her father’s secret identity? To the possibility of her classmates finding out? The pen name that had once given him freedom was starting to feel like a prison.
“I’ll have to check it out,” Finn said, the words tasting like ash.
Ollie’s eyes lit up. “Really? If you finish the first one I gave you, I have a whole list of recs. Fair warning, though—there are some pretty steamy scenes in most of the books. Wilder doesn’t shy away from the physical side of relationships.”
The thought of Ollie reading his sex scenes—possibly thinking about them while looking at Finn—sent heat crawling up his neck. “I think I can handle it,” he managed. “The one you gave me last week is fairly tame.”
In fact, it was the book with the least sex Finn had ever written. He’d briefly tried pulling back in hopes that would give him the freedom to be more open with people in his real life about his writing. Unfortunately, Finn was pretty sure Ollie was one of the few people who’d enjoyed it.
“Cool! I’ll figure out which one you should read next and text you,” Ollie promised before being called away to help with cleanup.
Finn stood there for a moment, the weight of his secret pressing down on him. He should tell Ollie. He knew he should. But the words stuck in his throat, trapped behind years of careful compartmentalization and fear.
“Dad?” Brooklyn’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. She stood beside him, a small stack of books in her arms. “You okay? You look weird.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her, forcing a smile. “Find everything you wanted?”
She nodded, then glanced toward Ollie, who was laughing with Jules as they collected empty coffee cups. “He’s nice,” she said carefully, as if testing the waters. “Ollie, I mean.”
“He is,” Finn agreed, surprised by the opening.
Brooklyn studied him for a moment, something unreadable in her expression. “Isabel says you like him. Like, like him.”
The direct statement caught Finn off guard. He and Brooklyn hadn’t discussed his sexuality explicitly since Holly left, though he’d never hidden anything from her. Still, the idea that she and her friends were discussing his love life made him distinctly uncomfortable.
“Isabel has quite the imagination,” he said noncommittally.
Brooklyn rolled her eyes. “Dad. I’m not five. I have eyes.” She hesitated, then added more quietly, “And it’s okay, you know. If you do like him.”
The simple acceptance—offered awkwardly but sincerely—made Finn’s throat tight with emotion. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged, trying for casual, though her fingers tightened on her books. “I mean, it’s weird because you’re my dad, and thinking about you dating anyone is gross. But if you have to like someone, he’s not the worst choice.”
Coming from Brooklyn, that was practically a ringing endorsement.
Finn swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat.
It was wild to him that she didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the fact that Ollie wasn’t a woman.
Times were so different compared to when he’d been younger. “Thanks, Brooklyn. That means a lot.”
She nodded, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional turn of the conversation. “Whatever. Can we go soon? I want to start my new book.”
“Sure,” Finn agreed, recognizing the deflection for what it was. “Let me just say goodbye to Ollie and the others.”
As Brooklyn headed toward the door, Finn caught Ollie’s eye across the store. Something passed between them—understanding, warmth, a promise of conversations to come—before Ollie smiled and gave a small wave.
It wasn’t a resolution to the complicated situation between them.
Brooklyn still needed him, his secret still lay between them, and the timing was still far from perfect.
But as Finn left the bookstore with his daughter, something had shifted—a door cracked open, letting in a sliver of light and possibility.