The ease between them surprised Ollie. He’d expected awkwardness, perhaps even resentment, but Brooklyn’s manner was open, almost welcoming. As he poured his coffee, he caught Finn watching them, a soft expression on his face that made Ollie’s chest tighten with emotion.
Breakfast unfolded with surprising ease. Brooklyn interrogated Ollie about his favorite books, seeming genuinely interested in his recommendations. She was sharp—sharper than most adults Ollie knew—and her questions revealed a mind that moved quickly between topics, making connections that impressed him.
“So you really read all the books in your store?” she asked, drowning her pancakes in maple syrup.
“Not all of them,” Ollie admitted. “But I try to read widely enough that I can recommend books to almost anyone who walks in.”
“That’s actually cool,” Brooklyn said, and Ollie could tell she meant it. “Most adults I know barely read anything. And when they do, it’s snooze-worthy.”
“Brooklyn,” Finn warned, but there was no heat in it.
“What? It’s true.” She turned back to Ollie. “I’m reading this book for English—The Bell Jar? It’s intense but good.”
“Sylvia Plath,” Ollie nodded. “Not exactly light reading.”
“That’s what makes it interesting. Happy books are boring.” This didn’t seem like the same girl Noah had been worried about slipping in his class. She came to life as she talked about how raw it felt, how Plath didn’t sugarcoat the way a person’s brain could turn against them. “Not every book has to tie everything up in a neat little bow.”
Ollie laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with a happy ending, but I get what you mean. Sometimes the books that stay with you are the ones that break your heart a little.”
Brooklyn pointed her fork at him. “Exactly! Dad doesn’t get it. He only reads boring historical books.”
“Hey,” Finn protested, “I read other things.”
“Name one book you’ve read in the last year that was set in this century,” Brooklyn challenged.
Finn opened his mouth, closed it, then looked to Ollie for help. He bit back a smirk, knowing of at least one book Finn read (or at least said he had) that met her stipulation. No way were either of them going to tell Finn’s teenage daughter about him reading an erotic gay romance. She was taking their budding relationship in stride; Ollie didn’t see any reason to push things.
“I could make some recommendations,” Ollie offered, unable to keep the amusement from his voice.
“Please do,” Brooklyn said. “His birthday’s coming up.”
The conversation flowed easily after that. When breakfast was finished, Brooklyn volunteered to clean up, waving off both Finn and Ollie’s offers of help.
“You guys go do whatever,” she said, already stacking plates. “I’ve got this.”
In the living room, Finn pulled Ollie close, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re good with her,” he murmured.
“She makes it easy,” Ollie replied honestly. “She’s remarkable, Finn.”
Pride shone in Finn’s eyes. “Yeah, she is. And she likes you, which is…” He trailed off, searching for words.
“Important?” Ollie suggested.
“Everything,” Finn corrected, his voice low and serious. “It’s everything.”
After breakfast,Finn suggested a hike on one of the local trails—nothing too strenuous, just enough to enjoy the unseasonably warm October day. Ollie called his Mom to see if she could open the store, and she eagerly agreed as soon as he said he wanted to spend some time with Finn. Brooklyn agreed with minimal teenage reluctance, and soon, they were piling into Finn’s truck.
The trail wound through a wooded area at the edge of town, following a small stream that gurgled pleasantly over smooth stones. Brooklyn walked ahead, pausing now and then to snap photos of mushrooms clustered on a mossy log or leaves so bright they looked unreal.
“She’s into photography,” Finn explained as he and Ollie strolled side by side. Their hands brushed occasionally—a casual intimacy that still made Ollie’s heart stutter. “Started last year. She’s got a real eye for detail.”
“I can tell,” Ollie said, watching as Brooklyn crouched to frame a shot, her focus intent. “Still planning on environmental science, or do you think the photography bug will turn her into an artist?”
Finn’s lips curved in a proud, if slightly exasperated, smile. “Oh yeah. She’s dead set on saving the planet. Has her heart set on environmental engineering or something close to it. Every week there’s a new plan—wildlife conservation, renewable energy, you name it. But always the environment.”
“Sounds like she knows what matters,” Ollie said, genuine admiration in his voice. “Maple Hill’s lucky to have her.”
Finn’s brow creased, worry slipping in at the edges. “I just want her to have every opportunity. College isn’t cheap, even with all the scholarships she’s determined to win.”
