Chapter 17 #2
As she left, Finn sank back into his chair, heart pounding. That had been too close. The walls of his carefully compartmentalized life were starting to crumble, and he wasn’t ready for the collapse.
He needed to talk to someone who understood, someone who knew all the pieces of him. Before he could second-guess himself, he grabbed his phone and texted his mother.
Can I stop by later? Need advice.
I’ll make cookies.
The kitchen smelled like chocolate and sugar, the familiar scent wrapping around Finn as he stepped through the back door. His mother stood at the counter, sliding cookies onto a cooling rack, her silver hair caught up in its usual messy bun.
“Perfect timing,” she said without turning around. “These need five minutes to cool, which is exactly how long it’ll take you to stop hovering in the doorway and tell me what’s wrong.”
Despite everything, Finn smiled. “That obvious, huh?”
“You’re my son. I knew something was wrong as soon as you texted.” She turned, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her sharp eyes taking in his disheveled appearance. “Sit. Talk.”
Finn dropped into a chair at the kitchen table, the same spot he’d occupied for countless childhood confidences and teenage crises. “Meredith called this morning. About the award ceremony.”
Understanding dawned in Maggie’s eyes. She was the only person besides his agent who knew about Rhett Wilder, having been his first reader from the beginning.
It was beyond weird knowing his mom liked reading gay romance novels, but she’d been eager to give her opinions.
“Ah. And they want the mysterious author to make an appearance.”
“Yeah.” Finn ran a hand through his hair. “Three weeks from now. Black tie, acceptance speech, the whole nine yards.”
“And you’re panicking because…?”
“Because if I do this, everyone’s going to know,” Finn said, the words rushing out. “Brooklyn, Brendan, the whole town. Ollie.”
Maggie sat across from him, sliding a plate of cookies between them. “Would that be so terrible? Your books are beautiful, Finn. They’ve helped people. Why are you so afraid of claiming them?”
It was a question he’d asked himself a thousand times, one he still didn’t have a clear answer for. “It’s complicated.”
“Try me,” his mother said, pushing the cookies closer. “Chocolate might make it easier for you to think clearly.”
Finn took one automatically, the warmth of it grounding him.
“What if Brooklyn’s embarrassed? Her classmates finding out her dad writes gay romance would open her up to all new levels of bullying.
” He swallowed hard. “And Ollie can’t stop talking about Rhett Wilder’s books at the store.
Recommends them to anyone who shows the slightest interest in romance.
What if he feels betrayed that I didn’t tell him? ”
“Have you considered,” Maggie said gently, “that he might be proud? That Brooklyn might be proud? That the people who love you might actually be happy to discover this part of you?”
“Or they might feel lied to,” Finn countered. “I’ve been Rhett Wilder for years, Mom. That’s a long time to keep a secret.”
Maggie was quiet for a moment, breaking a cookie in half and studying it thoughtfully.
“You know, when your father died, I was terrified of being seen. Really seen, with all my mess and grief and anger. I thought if people knew how broken I felt, they’d run for the hills.
” She looked up, meeting his gaze. “But the opposite happened. The more I let people see me, the more love came my way.”
“This is different,” Finn protested weakly.
“Is it? Or is this about you still thinking your success is a fluke?” She reached across the table, covering his hand with her own. “You need to trust in yourself the way we do.”
The simple truth of it hit him like a physical blow.
He’d been hiding for so long—not just his writing, but parts of himself.
His bisexuality, tucked away as a theoretical thing rather than a lived reality.
His loneliness, masked by competence and routine.
His desire for connection, buried beneath layers of responsibility and caution.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I’ve been keeping my writing in the dark for so long. I’m not sure how to bring it into the light.”
“You start small,” Maggie said. “You pick someone you trust, and you show them one piece at a time. You don’t have to throw open all the doors at once.”
Finn nodded, turning her words over in his mind. “I should tell Ollie. Before anyone else.”
“If that feels right, then yes.” She squeezed his hand. “But, Finn? You might want to talk to Brooklyn first. She deserves to hear it from you, not at some ceremony or through town gossip.”
The thought sent a fresh wave of anxiety through him. “What if she hates it? What if she’s embarrassed by me?”
Maggie’s laugh was gentle but firm. “That girl adores you. Might she be awkward about it? Sure. Teenagers are awkward about everything. But hate it? Be embarrassed by you? Not a chance.”
Finn wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe that his carefully constructed walls weren’t the only thing keeping his world from collapsing.
“Take another cookie,” Maggie said, pushing the plate toward him. “And remember that you’re allowed to be happy, Finn. Not just surviving, but actually happy.”
The permission, simple as it was, loosened something in his chest. He took the offered cookie, the familiar taste of his childhood a comfort against the uncertainty ahead.
Brendan’s backyard was a work in progress, much like the man himself.
Half-finished landscaping projects dotted the space—a stone path that ended abruptly in the middle of the lawn, a pergola with only two posts erected, and flower beds in various states of completion.
But the patio was finished, and that’s where Finn found his brother, bundled in a flannel jacket and sprawled in an Adirondack chair with a beer in hand.
“If you’re hiding from your own life, at least do it with a beer in your hand,” Brendan called, gesturing to the cooler beside him. “Or two. You look like you need it.”
Finn grabbed a bottle and dropped into the adjacent chair, grateful for Keaton’s decision to give everyone the day off before they started a big renovation project next week. “That obvious?”
“You have that constipated look you get when you’re overthinking something.” Brendan took a swig of his beer, his breath visible in the crisp fall air. “Plus, Mom called.”
“Of course she did,” Finn muttered, though there was no real annoyance in it. “What did she tell you?”
“Just that you’re having some kind of existential crisis and might need brotherly wisdom.” Brendan grinned, pulling his jacket tighter against the November chill. “So here I am, wise as fuck and ready to solve all your problems.”
Despite everything, Finn laughed. This was why he’d ended up at Brendan’s—not for advice, exactly, but for his brother’s uncanny ability to cut through the tension, to make light of heavy things without dismissing them entirely.
“It’s not an existential crisis,” Finn said, taking a long pull of his beer. “It’s more of a…practical dilemma.”
“Ah, those are my specialty,” Brendan said with a grin that suggested the opposite was true. “Lay it on me. Just don’t expect actual useful advice. We both know that’s not why you came to the family screw-up.”
Finn hesitated. He hadn’t planned to tell Brendan about Rhett Wilder today—that felt like too much, too soon. But maybe he could start smaller, with one piece of the truth.
“It’s about Ollie,” he said finally. “And…me. Us.”
Brendan’s eyebrows shot up. “Trouble in paradise already? You’ve only been dating, what, a few weeks?”
“It’s not trouble, exactly. It’s…” Finn took another drink, liquid courage. “I’m not being completely honest with him. About something pretty big.”
“Like what? You’re not secretly still married, are you? Because that would be a problem. Not for you and Ollie, but because I’ll kick your ass if you’re still chained to that vile, vapid…”
“No, nothing like that.” Finn cut him off. He stared at the label on his beer bottle, picking at the corner with his thumbnail. “It’s more about who I am. Parts of myself I’ve kept private.”
Understanding dawned in Brendan’s eyes. “Ah. The writing thing you think no one knows about?”
Finn’s head snapped up. “You know about that?”
Brendan laughed. “Uh, yeah. You let me use your computer one time and had a file open. But I figured you’d say something when you were ready. It wasn’t a surprise, you know. Even when we were kids, you had your private notebooks nobody was allowed to touch.”
“Those weren’t anything special,” Finn said defensively, then sighed. “But yeah, that’s something I’ve been keeping to myself. It’s bigger than just writing.”
“And you’re worried about telling Ollie?” Brendan asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with genuine concern.
Finn nodded, picking at the label on his beer bottle. “We’ve gotten close so quickly. He’s shared so much of himself with me, and I’m still holding back.”
“That’s classic Finn O’Riley,” Brendan said, but there was no judgment in his voice. “Always a vault of secrets.”
“It’s not like that,” Finn protested weakly. “It’s just complicated.”
“Look, I don’t know what this big secret is,” Brendan said, leaning forward in his chair. “But I do know Ollie. He’s a good guy. Solid. And he clearly cares about you.”
The simple observation made Finn’s throat tight with emotion. “That’s what scares me. What if this changes how he sees me?”
“Isn’t that the point of relationships? To let someone see the real you?” Brendan took another swig of his beer. “Does Mom know about it?”
“Yeah,” Finn admitted. “She’s known from the beginning.”
“Well, there you go. Mom’s approval is basically the gold standard.” Brendan’s expression turned serious. “Whatever it is, Finn, it can’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be in your head.”
“It’s not bad,” Finn said quickly. “It’s just… It’s been mine for so long. Private. I’m not sure I know how to share it.”
“Start with words,” Brendan suggested with a shrug. “Those usually help. Then again, words are sort of how you wound up in this mess to start with. How would your characters handle divulging their super-secret stealth life?”
Brendan studied him for a moment, then continued. “Tell him or don’t. But don’t sabotage something good because you’ve spiraled so deep into the worst-case scenario you can’t even see the light anymore.”
The echo of his mother’s words hit Finn like a physical blow. “I’m not sabotaging anything.”
“Aren’t you?” Brendan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been distant all week. I don’t know what happens after work hours, but during the day, you’re dodging his calls. That’s avoidant behavior.”
Finn winced. He hadn’t realized his withdrawal had been so obvious. “It’s…”
“I swear, if you say it’s complicated one more time, I’m going to cuff you upside the head,” Brendan said, but there was little judgment in his tone. “But here’s the thing about Ollie—he sees you, Finn. Maybe not all of you, not yet, but more than most people. And he likes you for who you are.”
“That’s what scares me,” Finn admitted quietly. “What if he feels like I should have told him sooner?”
Brendan was quiet for a moment, contemplating his beer.
“You know what I think? I think you’re so used to being Mr. Reliable that you’ve forgotten people can handle you being a little messy sometimes.
” He looked up, meeting Finn’s gaze directly.
“We’re not all going to abandon ship at the first sign of tarnish in your armor, you know. ”
The simple truth of it settled over Finn like a weight and a release all at once. “When did you get so insightful?”
“I’ve always been insightful. You’ve just been too busy adulting to notice.” Brendan grinned, lightening the moment. “So, are you going to tell me what this mysterious ‘more to it’ is, or do I have to guess?”
Finn hesitated, then shook his head. “Not yet. But soon, maybe.”
“Fair enough.” Brendan raised his bottle in a toast. “To complicated lives and the people who love us anyway.”
Finn clinked his bottle against his brother’s, the simple gesture more comforting than it had any right to be. “To complicated lives,” he echoed.
As the afternoon sun slanted across the unfinished yard, Finn felt something shift inside him—not resolution, exactly, but a loosening of the knot that had been tightening in his chest since Meredith’s call.
He still didn’t know what he was going to do about the award ceremony, about Ollie, about any of it.
But for the first time, the idea of being seen didn’t feel quite so terrifying.