“Mom—”
“She’s right,” Sam interjected, already stretching her arms above her head. “You’ve been here since dawn. Go home. Take a bath. Read something just for the fun of it.”
His mother nodded approvingly at Sam. “Smart girl.”
There was no way Ollie was winning this battle. He gathered his things, said goodbye to his friends, and made the trek up the back stairs to his apartment. Sometimes, he wished it had been his apartment that had flooded. He rarely went out, and he’d have noticed soon enough that the bookstore wouldn’t have been damaged.
But then, he might have never gotten his moment with Finn. And even if things were in this weird limbo between them, he couldn’t wish away that kiss.
ELEVEN
Finn stared at his daughter across the breakfast table, trying to decipher the subtle shifts in her expression. Brooklyn stabbed at her pancakes with more force than necessary, her shoulders hunched defensively even though he hadn’t said anything yet. The past two weeks had been a delicate dance of progress and setbacks—she’d kept her promise about attending class, but the distance between them remained, a chasm he wasn’t sure how to bridge.
“So,” he began carefully, “there’s this event at Shelf Care Central today. Some young adult book thing. Ollie mentioned they could use some extra hands.”
Brooklyn’s fork paused mid-stab. “And?”
“And I thought maybe you’d want to come help out.” He kept his tone casual. “They need someone to run the trivia station. Apparently, it’s all dystopian fiction and fantasy series—right in your wheelhouse.”
“I have homework,” she said, not meeting his eyes.
“On a Saturday morning?”
“Some of us take school seriously.” The barb landed with precision, and Finn winced. “I thought that’s what you wanted me to do.”
“Brooklyn—”
“That was unfair,” she admitted immediately, shoulders slumping. “Sorry.”
The apology, small as it was, felt like progress. Finn took a breath. “Look, I’m not trying to force you into anything. I just thought it might be good for both of us. You used to love going there every weekend.”
Brooklyn pushed her pancakes around her plate, considering. “Is this because I promised to stop skipping class? Some kind of reward system, like I’m five?”
“No,” Finn said firmly. “This is because you’re good with books, you know the YA section better than most adults, and honestly, he could use your help.” He paused, then added quietly, “And maybe I miss hanging out with you.”
Something flickered across Brooklyn’s face—a softening around the eyes that reminded him so much of her younger self that his chest ached. “Fine,” she said finally. “But I’m not wearing one of those dorky volunteer shirts.”
Relief washed over him. “Deal.”
Two hours later,they stood outside Shelf Care Central, music and laughter spilling through the open door. Brooklynhesitated on the sidewalk, tugging self-consciously at her oversized flannel shirt.
“You okay?” Finn asked.
“Yeah.” She adjusted her ponytail. “Just… It’s been a while since I’ve been here.”
The admission caught him off guard. Brooklyn had practically grown up among these shelves, but somewhere along the way, between the divorce and adolescence and his own distraction, that connection had faded.
Before he could respond, Ollie appeared in the doorway, his face lighting up at the sight of them. He wore a ridiculous T-shirt emblazoned withBooks are my love languageand his curls were even more chaotic than usual, as if he’d been running his hands through them all morning.
“You made it!” he exclaimed, genuine delight in his voice. His eyes warmed with recognition when he spotted Finn’s daughter. “Brooklyn! Thank god you’re here. We need someone who actually knows theirHunger Gamesfrom theirDivergent, and Sam is hopelessly out of her depth.”
The casual welcome, no pressure, no awkwardness, seemed to ease some of the tension in Brooklyn’s posture. “Adults always mix up the factions and the districts,” she said, a hint of her usual confidence returning.
“Exactly!” Ollie agreed, gesturing them inside. “Which is why we need you. I tried to explain to Sam that Dauntless isn’t aHunger Gamesdistrict, and she looked at me like I’d grown a second head.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Brooklyn’s lips. “That’s just embarrassing.”
“Tell me about it. Her nerd credentials are in serious jeopardy.”
