“Yes,” Finn admitted quietly. “Not of you. Of…failing, I guess. Of not being enough. Of letting you down the way I let Holly down.”
Ollie’s brow furrowed. “You think you let your ex down?”
“I know I did,” Finn said, the old guilt rising like a tide. “I wanted the family, the small-town life, the stability. She never did. I kept thinking she’d settle into motherhood, that she’d eventually want what I wanted.” He shook his head, the familiar ache of old wounds resurfacing. “By the time I realized she was never going to be happy with our life, Brooklyn was already paying the price.”
“That doesn’t mean you failed,” Ollie said gently. “It means you wanted different things. It means she wasn’t meant to be a mother, and you were born to be a father. There’s a difference. And while you can regret things about your relationship, without her, you wouldn’t have Brooklyn, and that would have been the real tragedy.”
The simple reframing hit Finn with an unexpected force. He’d carried the weight of his marriage’s end for so long, seeing it as a personal failure rather than an incompatibility. The idea that he might not have been at fault was both liberating and terrifying.
“What about you?” he asked, deflecting slightly. “What scares you?”
Ollie was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of Finn’s hand. “Being left behind,” he said finally. “Always being the one who waits, who understands, who puts his own needs last.” He glanced at Finn, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “Not that I’m saying that’s what you’re doing. It’s just a pattern I’ve noticed in myself. I’m really good at being patient and supportive, not so good at asking for what I want. Then I getpissed at myself when I don’t realize what I’ve been doing until it’s too late.”
The vulnerability in the admission made Finn’s chest ache. He stopped walking, turning to face Ollie fully. “Whatdoyou want, Ollie?”
Ollie’s eyes met his, dark and serious behind his glasses. “You,” he said simply. “Even with all the complications and the timing and the uncertainty. I want to see where this goes.”
The directness of the answer stole Finn’s breath. “Even though I might mess it up? Even though Brooklyn has to come first?”
“Even then,” Ollie confirmed. “I’m not asking you to choose, Finn. I would never want to come between you and your daughter. I just want a chance.”
Something shifted in Finn’s chest, a loosening, a surrender. He reached up, cupping Ollie’s face with his free hand. “I want that too,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.”
Ollie leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. When they opened again, they were bright with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me.”
The question sent a jolt of panic through Finn. His secret identity, the books, the double life he’d been living—it all pressed against his ribs, demanding to be spoken. But the words stuck in his throat, trapped behind years of careful compartmentalization.
“Yes,” he admitted finally. “There is. And I want to tell you. I’m trying to be as honest as I can, but…”
“But you’re not ready,” Ollie finished for him, no judgment in his voice. “It’s okay, Finn. Trust takes time. I don’t need all the answers tonight.”
The simple acceptance—offered without pressure or resentment—made Finn’s throat tight with emotion. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”
Ollie smiled, a hint of his usual mischief returning. “I have my moments. Usually, between catastrophic overthinking and emotional spiraling.”
Finn guided Ollie to a small bench tucked beneath an old oak tree set back from the path. They sat, still holding hands, their knees touching. The park had grown quieter as evening deepened, the distant sounds of teens replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional car passing on the street beyond.
“So,” Ollie said after a moment, “where does this leave us? Still waiting until things settle down, or…?”
Finn considered the question, weighing his responsibilities against his desires. Brooklyn was doing better. She’d given her blessing, in her own way. And sitting here with Ollie, feeling more alive than he had in years, the idea of walking away seemed impossible.
“No,” he said finally. “More like…taking it slow? Seeing where it goes? I can’t promise that Brooklyn won’t need me at inconvenient times, but I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you.”
Ollie’s smile was like a sunrise, gradual and warming. “I can work with slow,” he said, shifting slightly closer on the bench. “As long as we’re moving forward.”
“Definitely forward,” Finn agreed, his gaze dropping to Ollie’s lips.
The air between them changed, charged with anticipation. Ollie’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, a small, unconscious gesture that sent heat pooling in Finn’s stomach. Slowly, giving Ollie every chance to pull away, Finn leaned in to kiss him.
Ollie sighed against his mouth, one hand coming up to curl around the back of Finn’s neck, drawing him closer. The kiss deepened, Finn’s hand sliding from Ollie’s cheek to tangle in his curls, angling his head to fit their mouths together more perfectly. Ollie made a small, needy sound in the back of his throat that sent electricity down Finn’s spine. He pulled Ollie closer, tasting coffee and something sweeter, feeling the slight rasp of stubble against his palm.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Finn rested his forehead against Ollie’s, unwilling to move too far away. Ollie’s eyes were unfocused behind his slightly fogged glasses, his lips red and swollen.
“That was…” Ollie began, his voice unsteady.
“Yeah,” Finn agreed, unable to find better words. Ollie’s lips were addicting. It was the type of thing he’d written before without fully understanding. Never in his life had each kiss left him desperate for the next.
They stayed like that for a moment, sharing breath, the world narrowed to the small space between them. Then Ollie laughed, the sound bright and slightly giddy, and Finn couldn’t help but join him, the tension of the past weeks dissolving into something lighter, more hopeful.
