“Anything with carbs sounds perfect,” Ollie said, leaning against the counter. “Can I help?”
They moved around each other with an ease that belied how new this was—Ollie chopping vegetables while Finn prepared the sauce, their conversation flowing naturally between topics. It felt comfortable in a way that relationships rarely did for Ollie, especially this early.
When Brooklyn rejoined them, hair still damp from her shower, she slid onto a stool at the kitchen island and watched them work.
“So when did you know you liked my dad?” she asked Ollie suddenly, causing him to nearly slice his finger instead of the bell pepper.
Finn almost dropped the wooden spoon he was holding. “Brooklyn, you can’t just?—”
“It’s okay,” Ollie assured him, cautiously setting down the knife. He considered the question, wanting to give her an honest answer. “I think there was something there when you were little and he used to bring you into the store every weekend. There’s something about seeing a guy who’s good with his kids that melts my heart a little. But the whole having a kid thing made me think he was straight and I didn’t stand a chance.”
“Yeah, he did a good job making it seem that way,” Brooklyn interjected, narrowing her eyes in her dad’s direction. “I was pretty sure he wasn’t, just because as I got older, I started noticing little things, but he never said anything for sure. And it’s not like you can just come out and ask your dad something like that. Anyway, tell me more. I need to make sure you’re good enough for him.”
Finn groaned, and Ollie chuckled. He was really starting to like Brooklyn. “I think I really knew after that day he helped me reorganize the shelving in the store. He stayed late, even though he didn’t have to.”
Finn was studiously stirring the sauce, but Ollie could see the tips of his ears turning pink.
“That tracks,” Brooklyn said thoughtfully. “Dad’s always doing stuff like that. It’s his way of showing he cares without having to say it.”
“I’m standing right here,” Finn pointed out, still not looking up from the pot.
Brooklyn turned her attention back to Ollie. “And you’re not just in it for his cooking skills? Because don’t let this pasta fool you—he makes a mean lasagna too. And his grilled salmon is actually incredible.”
“Don’t forget the apple pie,” Finn added, a hint of pride in his voice.
Ollie laughed. “The food is definitely a bonus, but no, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Good,” Brooklyn said, suddenly serious. “Because he really likes you. Like, a lot. And I don’t want him to get hurt.”
The kitchen fell silent except for the soft bubbling of the sauce. Ollie met Brooklyn’s steady gaze, recognizing the protective love behind her words.
“I really like him too,” Ollie said quietly. “A lot. And I have no intention of hurting him.”
Brooklyn held his gaze for another moment before nodding once, apparently satisfied. “Cool. Can I set the table?”
As she gathered plates and silverware, Finn moved to Ollie’s side. “Sorry about the interrogation,” he murmured.
“Don’t be,” Ollie replied. “She loves you. It’s nice to see.”
Dinner was a relaxed affair, the conversation flowing easily between books, Brooklyn’s school projects, and whether Finn preferred being on the jobsites or hiding in the office. Ollie laughed more than he had in recent memory, drawn into their family dynamic in a way that felt natural rather than intrusive.
After the meal, they settled in the living room with mugs of hot chocolate—Brooklyn’s request, which neither man could deny. Brooklyn curled up in an armchair with her copy ofThe Bell Jarwhile Finn and Ollie sat on the couch, close enough that their shoulders touched.
“Oh,” Brooklyn said suddenly, looking up from her book. “I forgot to tell you guys. Ms. Peterson assigned a project on local businesses for economics class. I was thinking maybe I could do it on the bookstore? Since I’m going to be working there and all.”
“Of course,” Ollie replied, genuinely touched. “I’d be happy to help with whatever information you need.”
“Cool. I need to interview the owner and stuff. Maybe next weekend?”
“Whenever works for you.”
Brooklyn nodded, returning to her book with a small smile. Ollie felt Finn’s hand find his on the couch between them, their fingers intertwining naturally.
Later, after Brooklyn had gone to bed, Ollie and Finn stood in the kitchen, washing the last of the dishes together.
“Today was good,” Finn said softly, passing Ollie a rinsed plate to dry.
“It was,” Ollie agreed. “Really good.”
