Page 43

Finn

W yatt stands in front of me, arms crossed, a look of uncertainty flickering across his face. His dark hair falls slightly into his eyes as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. I can tell what he’s about to ask—it’s written all over him. The questions, the hesitation, the fear.

“So... about the money,” he starts, his voice steady but low. “If we’re really going to defend ourselves, where are we supposed to get it from?”

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. This moment has been hanging between us for days. The answer is simple and yet far more complicated than he realizes. I glance down, fingers brushing the worn edges of my father’s old leather journal that’s been my lifeline lately.

“I’ve been reading this,” I say, holding up the journal for him to see, my voice softer than I expected. “My dad... he left more than just plans or instructions in here.”

Wyatt’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

There’s no easy way to say it. No way to cushion the blow of what I discovered in these pages. But Wyatt deserves the truth, all of it. He’s been in this with me from the start, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we have to be honest with each other, especially now.

“I found something in the journal. Something I didn’t expect,” I start, my heart racing in my chest. “Our fathers... they weren’t just friends. They were more than that. They were in love.”

For a moment, Wyatt’s face is unreadable, like he’s trying to process the words.

I brace myself for his reaction, expecting shock, disbelief, or maybe even anger.

From what I’ve learned about my father since being here and reading his journals, he’s a very private man—careful with his emotions.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Wyatt felt the same way.

But then, something changes in his expression. A softness, a warmth that I didn’t see coming.

“I knew,” Wyatt says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

He uncrosses his arms, his gaze locking onto mine.

“I knew they loved each other. I saw it in the way they looked at each other, the way they treated each other. They were always so... kind. We all knew about them here. I’m sorry I never told you before…

and that you found out by reading it in the journal. ”

I feel a lump forming in my throat. “Yeah... and it makes sense, you know? Everything. The way they were together. Always.” I pause for a moment. “Don’t feel bad you didn’t tell me, I kind of think it was for my dad to say… in his own words in the journal.”

Wyatt steps closer, his hand finding mine.

His touch is warm, grounding me when my thoughts are spinning.

“They were good to each other, Finn. I always admired that. I admired how much love they had, even if it wasn’t something everyone could see or understand.

The townsfolk here would never have accepted it if they knew, but Miranda and Doris were their biggest cheerleaders… second only to me.”

His words stir something inside me, something I’ve been trying to push down. But now, standing here with Wyatt, I can’t hide it anymore. I can’t deny what’s been building between us.

“I feel the same way,” Wyatt says softly, his eyes searching mine. “About you.”

My heart skips a beat. Hearing him say it, admitting what I’ve been feeling too, it feels like everything is finally clicking into place. We’d both exchanged ‘I love you’ phrases and words, but this feels more than that, not simply lip service.

“I feel it too,” I confess, my voice shaky. “And it scares me, Wyatt. It scares me because everything is so uncertain, and there’s so much we don’t know. But this—what’s happening between us—I can’t ignore it.”

Wyatt’s grip on my hand tightens, and I can see the emotion welling up in his eyes. “We’ll figure it out, Finn. Just like they did. Whatever it takes, we’ll figure it out together.”

His words are like a promise, a vow that I didn’t even realize I needed to hear. But even as the warmth of his confession wraps around me, something cold creeps in. Guilt.

I pull away slightly, just enough to feel the weight of the journal in my hand again. “There’s something else,” I murmur. “I... I haven’t finished reading the journal yet. But I know there’s more. My dad wouldn’t just leave us like this, not without answers.”

Wyatt looks at me, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

“I think there’s something in here,” I say, holding up the journal again. “Something important. My dad wouldn’t leave me hanging, Wyatt. He never would’ve just... left without making sure we had a way out. There must be answers in here, something that will help us.”

The weight of my father’s words presses down on me, the responsibility I feel to finish what he started. But it’s more than that. It’s the sense that my dad is still guiding me, even now, from beyond these pages.

“I need to finish it,” I say, my voice stronger now. “I have to. For him. For us.”

Wyatt nods, his expression softening again. “Then we’ll do it together. Whatever’s in there, we’ll face it together.”

His words bring me comfort, but the guilt lingers, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. I should have read the journal sooner, should have figured all of this out by now. But there’s no turning back now. All I can do is keep moving forward, with Wyatt by my side.

As we stand there, the weight of our fathers’ love and the growing connection between us hanging in the air, I know one thing for sure: we’ll face whatever comes next, just like they did. Together .

Wyatt gives me a hug and heads for the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

He points to the journal. “You’ve got some reading to catch up on.”