“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 tellingMelissa 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,likehim.”
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.”
