Understanding dawned in Brendan’s eyes. “Ah. The writing thing you think no one knows about?”
Finn’s head snapped up. “You know about that?”
Brendan laughed. “Uh, yeah. You let me use your computer one time and had a file open. But I figured you’d say something when you were ready. It wasn’t a surprise, you know. Even when we were kids, you had your private notebooks nobody was allowed to touch.”
“Those weren’t anything special,” Finn said defensively, then sighed. “But yeah, that’s something I’ve been keeping to myself. It’s bigger than just writing.”
“And you’re worried about telling Ollie?” Brendan asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with genuine concern.
Finn nodded, picking at the label on his beer bottle. “We’ve gotten close so quickly. He’s shared so much of himself with me, and I’m still holding back.”
“That’s classic Finn O’Riley,” Brendan said, but there was no judgment in his voice. “Always a vault of secrets.”
“It’s not like that,” Finn protested weakly. “It’s just complicated.”
“Look, I don’t know what this big secret is,” Brendan said, leaning forward in his chair. “But I do know Ollie. He’s a good guy. Solid. And he clearly cares about you.”
The simple observation made Finn’s throat tight with emotion. “That’s what scares me. What if this changes how he sees me?”
“Isn’t that the point of relationships? To let someone see the real you?” Brendan took another swig of his beer. “Does Mom know about it?”
“Yeah,” Finn admitted. “She’s known from the beginning.”
“Well, there you go. Mom’s approval is basically the gold standard.” Brendan’s expression turned serious. “Whatever it is, Finn, it can’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be in your head.”
“It’s not bad,” Finn said quickly. “It’s just… It’s been mine for so long. Private. I’m not sure I know how to share it.”
“Start with words,” Brendan suggested with a shrug. “Those usually help. Then again, words are sort of how you wound up in this mess to start with. How would your characters handle divulging their super-secret stealth life?”
Brendan studied him for a moment, then continued. “Tell him or don’t. But don’t sabotage something good because you’ve spiraled so deep into the worst-case scenario you can’t even see the light anymore.”
The echo of his mother’s words hit Finn like a physical blow. “I’m not sabotaging anything.”
“Aren’t you?” Brendan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been distant all week. I don’t know what happens after work hours, but during the day, you’re dodging his calls. That’s avoidant behavior.”
Finn winced. He hadn’t realized his withdrawal had been so obvious. “It’s…”
“I swear, if you say it’s complicated one more time, I’m going to cuff you upside the head,” Brendan said, but there was little judgment in his tone. “But here’s the thing about Ollie—he sees you, Finn. Maybe not all of you, not yet, but more than most people. And he likes you for who you are.”
“That’s what scares me,” Finn admitted quietly. “What if he feels like I should have told him sooner?”
Brendan was quiet for a moment, contemplating his beer. “You know what I think? I think you’re so used to being Mr. Reliable that you’ve forgotten people can handle you being a little messy sometimes.” He looked up, meeting Finn’s gaze directly. “We’re not all going to abandon ship at the first sign of tarnish in your armor, you know.”
The simple truth of it settled over Finn like a weight and a release all at once. “When did you get so insightful?”
“I’ve always been insightful. You’ve just been too busy adulting to notice.” Brendan grinned, lightening the moment. “So, are you going to tell me what this mysterious ‘more to it’ is, or do I have to guess?”
Finn hesitated, then shook his head. “Not yet. But soon, maybe.”
“Fair enough.” Brendan raised his bottle in a toast. “To complicated lives and the people who love us anyway.”
Finn clinked his bottle against his brother’s, the simple gesture more comforting than it had any right to be. “To complicated lives,” he echoed.
As the afternoon sun slanted across the unfinished yard, Finn felt something shift inside him—not resolution, exactly, but a loosening of the knot that had been tightening in his chest since Meredith’s call. He still didn’t know what he was going to do about the award ceremony, about Ollie, about any of it. But for the first time, the idea of being seen didn’t feel quite so terrifying.
EIGHTEEN
Ollie pushed his untouched muffin around the plate, his appetite lost somewhere between disappointment and worry. The café around him buzzed with morning energy, but he felt disconnected from it all, his mind caught in an endless loop of analysis.
