“And I’m not sure where we stand now.” The admission tasted bitter, like failure. “He was hurt. Understandably.”
Brooklyn abandoned the eggs, turning to face him fully. “But he didn’t throw you out of the store or anything, so that’s a good start.”
“No. He listened. He said he needed time to think.” Finn took a sip of coffee, grateful for the familiar burn. “I offered to do the event. To step in as Rhett Wilder for the showcase.”
Brooklyn smirked. “Wow, Dad. That’s huge.”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure he’ll even accept the offer at this point.” Finn shrugged, trying to appear casual about something that terrified him. “I have to go to Chicago in a couple of weeks for an awards ceremony, and I’m sure there will be pictures and such online, making it impossible for me to keep the secret any longer. I honestly figured that if I’m going to come out anyway, I’d rather do it here for a good reason, where I can control the narrative.”
Brooklyn turned off the burner and leaned against the counter, studying him with that too-perceptive gaze. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s actually mad at you. I think it was a shock, and he’s a bit embarrassed by how he incessantly recommends your books to people.”
“You can’t be certain of that.” He wanted to believe her, but she hadn’t seen the way Ollie had looked at Finn as he revealed the truth.
“No one can.” She crossed her arms. “Look, I get why Ollie’s hurt. But you told him the truth, right?”
Finn nodded reluctantly.
“And you offered to help with his event, even though you hate being the center of attention?”
“Right.”
“Then you did the right thing. Finally.” Brooklyn’s voice softened slightly. “It’s a start, but you may need to figure out some swoony moment to prove how much you care about him and that you’ll never keep something this huge from him ever again.”
The words hit with unexpected force. Finn looked up, meeting his daughter’s steady gaze. “Are you a relationship expert all of a sudden?”
“Ollie’s not the only one who reads romance books.” She pushed away from the counter, gathering her backpack. “Besides, someone has to keep you from being a complete disaster.”
After Brooklyn left for school, Finn sat in his kitchen, staring at his phone. He could text Ollie, ask how he was doing, and whether he’d made a decision about the event. But that felt like pushing, and he’d done enough damage already.
Instead, he finished his coffee, showered, and made a decision of his own. He was going to the bookstore. Not to pressure Ollie or demand an answer, but to show up. To be present, whatever that looked like.
Shelf Care Centralwas dark when Finn arrived, but he could see light spilling from the back office. Finn knocked gently on the front door, not wanting to startle Ollie. A moment later, he appeared, looking tired but not surprised to see him. He unlocked the door, stepping back to let Finn in.
“You’re out and about early,” Ollie said, his voice carefully neutral.
“Thought I’d see if you were in on my way to work.” Finn closed the door behind him, suddenly aware of how the space felt different now—charged with unspoken things. “I have a bit of time if there’s anything I can help with.”
Ollie studied him for a moment, then nodded toward the back of the store. “I was just organizing the event materials. Trying to figure out what needs to be done if…” He trailed off.
“If you decide to let me participate,” Finn finished.
“Yeah.”
They walked to the back office together, the silence not quite comfortable but not hostile either. Ollie’s desk was covered with papers—promotional flyers, author information sheets, a timeline for the event. Finn recognized a photo of himself on the sheet, the headshot that was on the Anderson Homeworks website, since Rhett was currently faceless.
“I pulled everything I had on Rhett Wilder,” Ollie said, following his gaze. “Of course then I started spiraling, comparing the few facts that are out there about him to the man I know you are.”
Finn picked up the photo, studying his own face. It looked like a stranger—too polished, too distant. “I hate this picture. Keaton thought we needed to get them done, and I suppose it works for that job, but it’s not really going to work for Rhett.”
While things still weren’t easy between the two of them, it felt like progress that they were able to talk about his author life without Ollie practically flinching. There was so much Finn needed to consider if he was going to drag Rhett out of the closet he’d been locked in.
“Yeah, that is a problem. This screams forensic accountant more than sexy curator of steamy gay sex.” Ollie settled into his desk chair, gesturing for Finn to take the other seat. “That’s part of what I’ve been thinking about. Who you are versus who Rhett Wilder is.”
“We’re the same person,” Finn said, then paused. “But I understand what you mean. Rhett Wilder is…a version of me. The man who writes, who creates. But he’s not all of me.”
“No, he’s not.” Ollie leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest. “And that’s what I’m struggling with. Not the fact that you write—that’s incredible, Finn. It’s that you kept it separate. Kept me separate from it even after you had to have known I wouldn’t judge you.”
The words hit like a physical blow, but Finn forced himself to listen, to really hear what Ollie was saying.
