Even if the waiting hurt. Even if the uncertainty ached.
The romance showcase would celebrate love in all its messy, complicated glory. And maybe, just maybe, by the time it arrived, Ollie would know whether his own romance had what it took to survive the truth.
Hours later, the program was finally complete, and Ollie sat alone in his apartment. The tea beside him had gone cold, forgotten as he’d poured his heart onto the page. His phone lit up with a text from Finn.
Just wanted to say goodnight. And that I meant what I said today. All of it.
Ollie smiled, running his thumb over the words as if he could feel Finn’s presence through the screen.
I meant it too. Goodnight, Finn.
He set the phone down, staring at the darkened window that reflected his own tired face back at him. The ache in his chest hadn’t disappeared—the knowledge that something still stood between them, some truth still unspoken. But alongsideit now was something else. Something that felt remarkably like patience. Like faith.
Like love. Not the easy kind from fairy tales, but the real kind. The kind that waited, that hoped, that chose to believe even when the path forward wasn’t clear.
Ollie closed his laptop and headed to bed, carrying that small flame of hope with him into the darkness.
NINETEEN
Finn drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, half-listening as Brooklyn relayed what each of the judges had to say about her science fair entry. While Finn had worried she’d be unable to get something together after Isabel said she wasn’t able to get the day off for the science fair, Brooklyn’s rushed project on microplastics in local waterways had earned high marks. She’d been riding a wave of excitement since they’d left the school gymnasium twenty minutes ago. The back seat was littered with the remnants of her display—a folder of water sample data, the carefully laminated information cards she’d stayed up late perfecting, a small vial of filtered particles she’d collected from the creek that ran behind the park.
“Mr. Hendricks said my methodology was surprisingly rigorous for a sophomore,” Brooklyn told him, her voice bright with pride as she scrolled through the photos on her phone. “Which I think was supposed to be a compliment, even if it was kind of backhanded. Marcus helped me get access to the lab equipment at the community college, and?—”
She broke off, studying Finn’s profile with narrowed eyes. “Dad? Are you even listening?”
“Hmm? Yeah, of course.” Finn forced himself to focus, pushing down the tangle of anxiety that had been growing in his chest all week. “Rigorous methodology. Very impressive.”
Brooklyn’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been weird all day. I told you that you didn’t have to go to the fair if you didn’t want to. I’m sure there are other things you could’ve been doing.”
“I’m not being weird,” Finn protested, too quickly. “Just tired. It’s been a long week. But don’t think for a second that I didn’t want to be there to see you dominate the rest of the school. I’m sorry you and Isabel couldn’t submit the project you’d been working on together.”
“Right.” Brooklyn’s tone made it clear she wasn’t buying it. She twisted in her seat to face him more directly. “For your information, I’m not so insecure that I think all of your bad moods are because of me. You’re being all mopey because you haven’t spent any time with Ollie this week. But I can’t figure out why, unless one or both of you are being stupid.”
Finn’s hands tightened on the wheel. It hadn’t escaped his notice how she sailed right past the comment about Isabel. He hoped the two of them weren’t growing apart. “He’s busy with the store,” he said, the excuse sounding hollow even to his own ears. “And we’ve both had a lot going on.”
“Dad.” Brooklyn’s voice took on that particular teenage inflection that somehow conveyed both exasperation and concern. “That’s a load of crap, and you know it. You haven’teven mentioned him all week. Did you guys have a fight or something?”
“No, it’s not that.” Finn sighed, focusing on the road ahead as they turned onto their street. “I just—I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
Brooklyn was quiet for a moment, studying him with an intensity that reminded him too much of himself. As he pulled into their driveway and cut the engine, she made no move to get out of the car.
“You always tell me not to bottle things up,” she said finally, her voice softer than before. “That it just makes everything worse. I know I’m probably not the first person you want to talk to about your problems, but I’m not some little kid. And I had a pretty good teacher when it comes to listening without judgment. So what’s going on?”
The simple question, delivered with such straightforward concern, hit Finn like a physical blow. How many times had he given her that exact advice? How many late-night talks had they shared where he’d encouraged her to open up, to trust him with her struggles?
“Brooklyn—” God, this was hard. Finn scrubbed a hand over his face. She’d opened the door for him to be honest with her, but despite her no-judgment pep talk, he wasn’t sure that would hold up when she realized he’d been keeping something massive from her.
“Is it about Mom?” she pressed. “Because if she’s flaking on Christmas again, I’m fine with it. Really. At this point, I’m pretty sure she never intended to spend Christmas with me.”
“No, it’s not about your mom.” Yes, he was annoyed about the fact that Holly hadn’t bothered to make plans for her time withBrooklyn over the holidays. She’d been the one to insist on having it spelled out in the custody agreement that she could take Brooklyn for Christmas break, and now that they were just over a month away, it was crickets from her. Sadly, Finn wished it were drama with his ex that had him twisted in knots. “It’s…complicated.”
Brooklyn rolled her eyes. “Adults always say that when they don’t want to explain something. It’s a total cop-out.”
“Fair point.” Finn managed a small smile. “Let’s go inside, okay? I’ll make hot chocolate, and we can talk.”
In the kitchen, Finn moved through the familiar motions of heating milk and measuring cocoa, grateful for the routine that required just enough focus to keep his hands steady. Brooklyn perched on a stool at the island, watching him with patient curiosity.
“There’s something I haven’t told you,” Finn said finally, setting a steaming mug in front of her. “Something I haven’t told Ollie either.”
