Finn nodded, already sensing this wasn’t about the fundraiser. They moved away from the main group, finding a small alcove between bookshelves.
“Everything okay?” Finn asked, though he already knew the answer.
Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to give you a heads-up about Brooklyn. Her English grade is slipping—she didn’t turn in the last two assignments. And she’s been quiet in class. Not participating like she usually does.”
The news landed like a stone in Finn’s stomach. “She hasn’t said anything to me.”
“I figured,” Noah said gently. “Kids that age don’t always tell us when something’s wrong. But I thought you should know. It’s not like her.”
“No,” Finn agreed, guilt threading through his concern. “It’s not.”
He’d been so wrapped up in the bookstore project, in helping Ollie, in the damned book deadline, in his own complicated feelings, that he’d brushed off the signs. Brooklyn’s one-word answers, her increased time at Isabel’s, the way she’d been avoiding family dinners—it all suddenly felt more significant.
“Thanks for telling me,” Finn said, his voice rougher than he intended. “I’ll talk to her.”
Noah nodded, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. “She’s a good kid, Finn. Whatever it is, you’ll figure it out together.”
As Noah walked away, Finn remained in the alcove, trying to process. His daughter was struggling, and he’d been too distracted to notice. The realization sat heavy in his chest, a reminder of the responsibilities he couldn’t afford to neglect, no matter how drawn he was to Ollie and the bookstore.
“Earth to Finn,” Brendan’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You’ve got that look again.”
Finn blinked, focusing on his brother. “What look?”
“The ‘I’m carrying the weight of the world and refusing to ask for directions’ look.” Brendan leaned against the bookshelf, studying him. “What did Noah want?”
“Brooklyn’s having trouble at school,” Finn admitted, knowing there was no point hiding it from Brendan. “Grades slipping, not participating. I should have noticed.”
“You’ve been a little distracted,” Brendan said, his eyes flicking meaningfully toward Ollie, who was laughing with Jules across the room. “Can’t blame you. He’s pretty captivating.”
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.”
