Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Finn drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, half-listening as Brooklyn relayed what each of the judges had to say about her science fair entry.
While Finn had worried she’d be unable to get something together after Isabel said she wasn’t able to get the day off for the science fair, Brooklyn’s rushed project on microplastics in local waterways had earned high marks.
She’d been riding a wave of excitement since they’d left the school gymnasium twenty minutes ago.
The back seat was littered with the remnants of her display—a folder of water sample data, the carefully laminated information cards she’d stayed up late perfecting, a small vial of filtered particles she’d collected from the creek that ran behind the park.
“Mr. Hendricks said my methodology was surprisingly rigorous for a sophomore,” Brooklyn told him, her voice bright with pride as she scrolled through the photos on her phone.
“Which I think was supposed to be a compliment, even if it was kind of backhanded. Marcus helped me get access to the lab equipment at the community college, and—”
She broke off, studying Finn’s profile with narrowed eyes. “Dad? Are you even listening?”
“Hmm? Yeah, of course.” Finn forced himself to focus, pushing down the tangle of anxiety that had been growing in his chest all week. “Rigorous methodology. Very impressive.”
Brooklyn’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been weird all day. I told you that you didn’t have to go to the fair if you didn’t want to. I’m sure there are other things you could’ve been doing.”
“I’m not being weird,” Finn protested, too quickly. “Just tired. It’s been a long week. But don’t think for a second that I didn’t want to be there to see you dominate the rest of the school. I’m sorry you and Isabel couldn’t submit the project you’d been working on together.”
“Right.” Brooklyn’s tone made it clear she wasn’t buying it.
She twisted in her seat to face him more directly.
“For your information, I’m not so insecure that I think all of your bad moods are because of me.
You’re being all mopey because you haven’t spent any time with Ollie this week.
But I can’t figure out why, unless one or both of you are being stupid. ”
Finn’s hands tightened on the wheel. It hadn’t escaped his notice how she sailed right past the comment about Isabel. He hoped the two of them weren’t growing apart. “He’s busy with the store,” he said, the excuse sounding hollow even to his own ears. “And we’ve both had a lot going on.”
“Dad.” Brooklyn’s voice took on that particular teenage inflection that somehow conveyed both exasperation and concern. “That’s a load of crap, and you know it. You haven’t even mentioned him all week. Did you guys have a fight or something?”
“No, it’s not that.” Finn sighed, focusing on the road ahead as they turned onto their street. “I just—I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
Brooklyn was quiet for a moment, studying him with an intensity that reminded him too much of himself. As he pulled into their driveway and cut the engine, she made no move to get out of the car.
“You always tell me not to bottle things up,” she said finally, her voice softer than before.
“That it just makes everything worse. I know I’m probably not the first person you want to talk to about your problems, but I’m not some little kid.
And I had a pretty good teacher when it comes to listening without judgment. So what’s going on?”
The simple question, delivered with such straightforward concern, hit Finn like a physical blow. How many times had he given her that exact advice? How many late-night talks had they shared where he’d encouraged her to open up, to trust him with her struggles?
“Brooklyn—” God, this was hard. Finn scrubbed a hand over his face. She’d opened the door for him to be honest with her, but despite her no-judgment pep talk, he wasn’t sure that would hold up when she realized he’d been keeping something massive from her.
“Is it about Mom?” she pressed. “Because if she’s flaking on Christmas again, I’m fine with it. Really. At this point, I’m pretty sure she never intended to spend Christmas with me.”
“No, it’s not about your mom.” Yes, he was annoyed about the fact that Holly hadn’t bothered to make plans for her time with Brooklyn over the holidays.
She’d been the one to insist on having it spelled out in the custody agreement that she could take Brooklyn for Christmas break, and now that they were just over a month away, it was crickets from her.
Sadly, Finn wished it were drama with his ex that had him twisted in knots. “It’s…complicated.”
Brooklyn rolled her eyes. “Adults always say that when they don’t want to explain something. It’s a total cop-out.”
“Fair point.” Finn managed a small smile. “Let’s go inside, okay? I’ll make hot chocolate, and we can talk.”
In the kitchen, Finn moved through the familiar motions of heating milk and measuring cocoa, grateful for the routine that required just enough focus to keep his hands steady. Brooklyn perched on a stool at the island, watching him with patient curiosity.
“There’s something I haven’t told you,” Finn said finally, setting a steaming mug in front of her. “Something I haven’t told Ollie either.”
Brooklyn wrapped her hands around the mug, her expression cautious. Her face suddenly went pale, the teasing light in her eyes extinguished. “Oh god. Dad, are you sick? Is it something serious? Cancer? Is that why you’ve been so mopey and distant?”
The panic in her voice hit Finn like a physical blow. “No! Brooklyn, no, I’m not sick.” He reached across the counter, covering her trembling hand with his. “I’m fine. Completely healthy.”
“You swear?” Her voice was small, younger than her fifteen years. “Because if you’re trying to protect me from bad news—”
“I swear on my pickle jar,” Finn said firmly, using the phrase that had been their ultimate promise since she was little. Just like she had when she was younger, Brooklyn laughed at the absurd phrase. “I am not sick. There’s nothing wrong with my health.”
Brooklyn sagged with relief, her breathing evening out. “Jesus, Dad. Don’t scare me like that.” She pulled her hand free to wipe at her eyes. “So what is it then? What’s so complicated that you can’t just tell me?”
Guilt twisted in Finn’s stomach. He’d terrified his daughter by not having the courage to tell the truth.
Even worse, now it seemed ridiculous to be so worried.
He and Brooklyn had a good relationship, so it was unlikely she’d hate him for lying.
She might be hurt, but it wasn’t an unforgivable offense.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just…” He took a steadying breath. “I’ve been writing. Books. For a few years now.”
Brooklyn blinked at him. “Books? Like, actual published books?”
“Yes. Under a pen name.” The words felt strange in his mouth. The secret he’d kept so carefully was finally spoken aloud to someone who mattered.
“That’s…” Brooklyn’s brow furrowed as she processed this information. “That’s actually really cool, Dad. But why is that such a big deal? Why all the secrecy? You could have told me that day when I saw something open on your computer and you admitted to writing.”
Finn felt heat creep up his neck. “The books I write are…romance novels. Between men. It was a way for me to work through my own sexuality while doing something I enjoyed. At first, I didn’t know if it would lead anywhere, but then, as people started buying them, I worried about how it would affect you if anyone in town knew.
I never want anyone giving you a hard time about something I’ve done. ”
Brooklyn’s eyes widened, and Finn watched as understanding began to dawn across her features. She set her mug down carefully, her gaze never leaving his face.
“Wait.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “What name do you write under?”
There was an empty pit in Finn’s stomach. His daughter was quick, and he knew the second she’d figured it out. There was no point in hesitating, yet saying the name felt impossible. “Brooklyn—”
“Dad.” Her voice was sharper now, more insistent. “What pen name?”
The silence stretched between them, heavy with anticipation. Finn could see the wheels turning in her mind, could practically watch her connecting the dots.
“Oh my god.” Brooklyn’s mouth fell open, her eyes going wide with shock. “You’re not… Are you Rhett Wilder?”
Finn felt the blood drain from his face.
“Oh my god.” Brooklyn’s mouth fell open. “You are! You’re Rhett Wilder! That’s why you get all flustered whenever Ollie talks about him at the bookstore!”
Finn sank onto the stool across from her, his legs suddenly unsteady. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I am.”
For a long moment, Brooklyn just stared at him, her expression cycling through shock, disbelief, and finally—to Finn’s surprise—amusement.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” She shook her head, a startled laugh escaping her. “Dad, this is like a romance novel come to life. Why haven’t you told him? He’s going to lose his mind when he finds out!”
Finn’s fingers tightened around his mug. “It’s not that simple.”
“It kind of is,” Brooklyn countered. “You just say, ‘Hey, Ollie, surprise! I’m actually that author you’re obsessed with.’ Boom. Done.”
“And then what?” Finn asked, the fear he’d been carrying for weeks finally spilling out. “He feels like I’ve been lying to him this whole time? Like I’ve been making a fool of him while he talks about how much he loves my books?”
Brooklyn’s expression softened. “Is that what you’re worried about? That he’ll be mad?”
“I’m afraid he’ll think it was a lie,” Finn admitted, the words coming easier now that they’d started. “That I was hiding it from him deliberately. And I don’t want to lose him.”
“He’ll be mad at you for keeping it from him,” Brooklyn said, her voice matter-of-fact.
“And probably embarrassed that he got all googly-eyed about Rhett—about you—to you. But I don’t think he’ll leave.
Not if he’s anything like I think he is.
” She paused, her eyes serious beyond her years.
“But if he finds out from someone else, it’ll be so much worse. ”
The simple truth of it settled over Finn like a weight. “I know.”
“So again, why haven’t you told him?” Brooklyn asked, gentler now. “Are you embarrassed about the books?”
“No,” Finn said immediately. “I’m proud of them.
They’re good books. It’s just…” He trailed off, struggling to articulate the tangle of fears that had kept him silent.
“I’ve kept this part of myself separate for so long.
It was mine, you know? Something just for me, when everything else in my life was about taking care of other people. ”
Brooklyn nodded slowly. “I get that. But Ollie’s not just other people anymore, is he?”
“No,” Finn admitted softly. “He’s not.”
“And you’re not going to lose him by telling him the truth,” Brooklyn said with the absolute certainty of youth. “He’s, like, stupidly into you. It’s actually kind of gross how in love the two of you are.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Finn’s lips. He considered protesting her observation about them being in love, but it was the truth. He loved Ollie, even if he hadn’t said the words yet, and he was pretty sure Ollie felt the same. “Thanks for that assessment.”
“I’m serious, Dad.” Brooklyn leaned forward, her expression earnest. “Ollie looks at you like you hung the moon for him or something. Finding out you write books he already loves isn’t going to change that.”
The simple observation, delivered with such confidence, loosened something in Finn’s chest. “You’re pretty damned smart, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know. I get it from listening to you when you’re not being an idiot.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate, then asked, “So, are you going to tell him?”
Finn nodded, the decision crystallizing as he spoke. “I promise I’ll tell him soon.”
“Good.” Brooklyn stood, gathering her mug. “Because if you don’t, I might. This tea is too hot not to share.”
“Brooklyn—” Finn began, alarm flaring.
She grinned, the teasing light back in her eyes. “Relax, Dad. I’m kidding. Mostly.” She headed for the doorway, then paused, looking back at him. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty cool that you write books that represent someone other than straight white couples. That matters.”
“Wait,” Finn called after her, sudden anxiety spiking through him. “Brooklyn, you can’t tell anyone else. Not your friends, not at school—nobody.”
She turned back, leaning against the doorframe. “Dad, I’m not going to broadcast it on the morning announcements or anything.”
“I’m serious,” Finn said, his voice tightening. “If word gets around your school that your dad writes…you know…explicit romance novels—”
“Gay romance,” Brooklyn corrected, rolling her eyes. “It’s not a bad word. You’d be surprised to know how many people read books like that. I’d bet some of my friends even have your books on their phones. Which is why I won’t say anything because then it gets weird.”
“I know it’s not,” Finn sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But you know how teenagers can be. I don’t want you dealing with any fallout because of what I write.”
Brooklyn’s expression softened. “Dad, I’m not embarrassed by your books. And anyone who would give me crap about it isn’t someone whose opinion I care about anyway.” She paused, her voice growing more earnest. She gave him a peck on the cheek and a quick hug before rinsing her mug.
As she disappeared up the stairs, Finn remained at the kitchen island, her words echoing in his mind. Her simple validation, offered without judgment or expectation, settled over him like a balm.
He pulled out his phone, staring at the blank screen. He should text Ollie, invite him over, finally have the conversation he’d been avoiding. But the words wouldn’t come—not yet. Not tonight, with the weight of the conversation with Brooklyn still settling around him.
Tomorrow, he promised himself. He’d tell Ollie tomorrow, face-to-face. No more hiding, no more distance. Just the truth, and whatever came after.