“Resilient, huh?” Brendan’s smile widened. “And was he cute while being resilient?”
Finn gave his brother a flat look. “I was assessing water damage, not his dating potential.”
“Multitasking is a valuable skill,” Brendan countered, undeterred. “Just saying, you could check for leaks and check him out at the same time.”
“The only thing that needs checking around here is your work ethic,” Finn replied, though there was no heat in his words. This was their rhythm, Brendan pushing, Finn deflecting.
Brendan raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But for the record, I think it would do you good to notice someone. It’s been, what, three years since you went on a date?”
“Two,” Finn corrected automatically, then immediately regretted engaging. If he hadn’t come out as bi to his brother, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. “And my dating life is none of your business.”
“As your brother, everything about you is my business. It’s in the sibling contract.” Brendan drained the last of his coffee and stood. “I’m just saying, you spend all your time taking care of everyone else. Maybe it’s time someone took care of you for a change.”
The words hit closer to home than Finn wanted to admit. He gathered his notes, avoiding Brendan’s too-perceptive gaze. “I’m fine. And I have work to do.”
Brendan studied him for a moment longer, then shrugged. “Whatever you say, boss. I’ll talk to Luke and see who else we can pull off the Westfield project.”
As his brother left, Finn let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. When had Brendan gotten so damn insightful? Or had he always been, and Finn had just been too busy keeping everything else together to notice?
He pulled out his phone, checking the time. Almost noon, and he still had the final estimate to prepare for Ollie, plus hehadto get the outstanding invoices paid before he went home for the day.
His phone buzzed with a text from Brooklyn.
Going to Isabel’s after school. Science project emergency meeting. Home by 7.
Sounds good. Need a ride?
No, Marcus said he can drive us.
Finn hesitated.
Everything okay?
The three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared before Brooklyn’s response finally came through.
Fine. Just school stuff. See you tonight.
Something in the brevity of her response set off a warning bell in Finn’s mind. Brooklyn was fifteen—terse text messages were practically a developmental milestone—but this felt different. Felt like the kind of “fine” that meant anything but.
He spent the next few hours buried in invoices and ordering materials for upcoming projects, emerging from his focus only when Keaton knocked on his office door around three.
“Heading out early,” Keaton said. “Jules has some gallery thing tonight. You good here?”
Finn nodded, stretching his stiff shoulders. “Just finishing up the Shelf Care estimate. I’ll email it over tonight.”
“Don’t stay too late,” Keaton advised, though they both knew it was a futile suggestion. Finn’s dedication to finishing what he started was legendary around the office.
“I won’t,” Finn lied easily.
After Keaton left, the office gradually emptied, the sounds of work giving way to the quiet hum of the building settling. Finn lost himself in the numbers again, meticulously calculating labor costs, materials, and contingencies. By the time he finished, thesky outside his window had deepened to the rich blue to orange gradient of early evening.
He gathered his things and locked up, the familiar routine requiring little conscious thought. The parking lot was empty except for his car, a sensible sedan that Brooklyn occasionally teased him about being “aggressively boring.”
Once inside the car, Finn didn’t start the engine immediately. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number he knew by heart.
“There’s my boy,” his mother answered on the second ring, her voice warm and familiar. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Hey, Mom.” Finn felt some of the day’s tension ease at the sound of her voice. “Just checking in. How are you feeling?”
