He shakes his head. “No. It’s just . . . our parents are good people. They loved us, took us on fun vacations, paid for our schooling. They had the money to do all the things that most parents want to do for their kids. But they had expectations too.”

Finn pauses, possibly hesitating. “They’re both in finance and thought working in food service was beneath me. They were thrilled when Callum followed in their footsteps—and the exact opposite when I told them that my career goal was to open my own food truck in Maui. But I didn’t care. It was what I loved to do. So when my business here crashed and burned, they expected me to finally give up, to get a ‘sensible’ job, as they call it. But I wouldn’t do it. And when I told them that, they made it very clear how disappointed they were by refusing to acknowledge that part of my life.”

I keep from speaking even though I’m curious. My parents were always so supportive of whatever I wanted to do. When I said I wanted to go to culinary school after high school, they cheered me on. When I said I wanted to go to school online at night and earn my business degree while working in restaurants all day, they were just as supportive. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have parents who disapproved of what you did for a living.

“Shit. That sucks, Finn.”

The small smile he flashes holds a tinge of sadness. “It did. I honestly didn’t expect money or for them to swoop in and save me or anything like that. All I wanted was their support. But they didn’t have that to give.” He clears his throat. “Callum did though. He always did.”

He glances up and sighs. “I know he doesn’t seem like it now, but he’s a bloody good person. The best I know. I’m biased of course, since he’s my brother.” He chuckles before reining in his expression. “He didn’t care how angry our parents were when they found out he quit his job. All he cared about was helping me.”

Based on what Finn’s told me about Callum, even I have to admit that’s true.

“The way he went about things with you in the beginning was completely wrong,” Finn says. “I even told him that. I told him I didn’t want to stay at the spot on Makena Road because you were already there. But he wouldn’t budge.”

“Must be that douchebag finance persona he does so well.”

To my surprise, Finn laughs. He wipes his brow with his forearm. Tiny beads of sweat on his skin shine in the sunlight.