Updated Oct 29, 2025 • ~9 min read
The bonfire wasn’t Jane’s idea.
It was Kieran’s—one of the guys who worked at the marina and had apparently decided Jane needed more social interaction. He’d stopped by the bookstore on Saturday afternoon with an invitation.
“Beach bonfire tonight. Nothing fancy. Just locals. Bring whoever.”
Jane had meant to say no. Had a dozen excuses ready.
But then Gabriel had walked into the bookstore five minutes after Kieran left, and she’d found herself saying, “Want to go to a bonfire tonight?”
Now, walking down the beach path toward the orange glow of flames and the sound of laughter, Jane was regretting everything.
“You sure about this?” Gabriel asked beside her.
“No. But we’re already here.”
There were maybe fifteen people around the fire—locals Jane recognized from town. Kieran waved them over, handed them beers. Jane declined, obviously. Gabriel took one but didn’t drink it.
They found a spot on a log slightly away from the main group. Close enough to be social, far enough to have their own conversation.
“This is nice,” Gabriel said, watching the flames.
“You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not. Look—” He gestured at the scene. “Real people. Real lives. No pretense. When’s the last time you went to something like this? Before everything?”
Jane thought back. “I don’t know if I ever did. David thought social events meant foundation galas and business dinners. Bonfires would have been—” She searched for the word he would have used. “Beneath us.”
“David’s an idiot.”
“We’ve established that.” Jane pulled her jacket tighter. The November wind was cold coming off the water. “You cold?”
“Freezing. Want to move closer to the fire?”
“No. I like it here. Quiet.”
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the waves crash in the darkness beyond the firelight. Someone was playing guitar—badly but enthusiastically. People were laughing, telling stories, just existing together without agenda.
“This is what normal looks like,” Jane said softly. “I forgot.”
Gabriel glanced at her. “You’ll have this. When everything settles. When you feel safe enough. You and Clara Eleanor—” He smiled at the name they’d settled on. “You’ll have normal.”
“Will you?” The question slipped out before Jane could stop it. “Have normal?”
Gabriel took a long moment before answering. “I don’t know. I’ve been running from normal for a long time.”
“Running from what?”
He turned the beer bottle in his hands. Hadn’t taken a sip. “Can I tell you something? Something I don’t talk about?”
“Of course.”
Gabriel stared at the fire. “Two years ago, I was engaged.”
Jane’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected that. “What happened?”
“Her name was Serena. We’d been together three years. I thought—” He shook his head. “I thought she was it. The person I’d build a life with. I proposed. She said yes. We set a date.”
“And?”
“And six months before the wedding, she left me.” His voice was flat. Practiced. Like he’d told this story to himself enough times that the emotion had leaked out. “Said I wasn’t ambitious enough. That I was content just being an architect, just doing my work, when I could be so much more. That I should want David’s life—the business empire, the social status, the power.”
Jane felt sick. “She wanted you to be like David?”
“Essentially. Said I was wasting my potential. That she couldn’t marry someone who was satisfied with ordinary.” Gabriel finally took a drink. “Then she started dating one of David’s business partners. Someone who was everything she thought I should be.”
“Gabriel—”
“The worst part?” He looked at her now. “David encouraged it. Told Serena she was making the right choice. That I’d never amount to anything. That she deserved better.” His laugh was bitter. “My own brother helped my fiancée leave me.”
Jane’s hands clenched. “He’s a monster.”
“Yeah. He is.” Gabriel threw a piece of driftwood into the fire. “After that, I buried myself in work. Took every project I was offered. Traveled constantly. Avoided anything that felt like feelings or relationships or—” He gestured vaguely. “Connection. Told myself I was fine. That I didn’t need anyone.”
“But you weren’t fine.”
“No. I was running. Just like you.” He turned to face her fully. “I’ve been running for two years. From the embarrassment, from the pain, from the fact that someone I loved looked at me and found me lacking. And I kept running right up until—”
“Until?”
“Until I found you on that beach.” His eyes held hers. “And suddenly I had a reason to stop.”
Jane’s throat tightened. “Gabriel—”
“I know what you’re thinking. That this is—what? Rebound feelings? Misplaced hero complex? Trust me, I’ve asked myself the same questions.” He shifted closer. “But that night when I saw you alive, when I realized what David had done, what you’d survived—something clicked into place. Like I’d been waiting for a reason to stop running. And there you were.”
“I’m not a reason. I’m a mess.”
“You’re brave. You’re strong. You chose your daughter over everything else.” Gabriel’s voice was fierce. “That’s not a mess. That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Jane couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The baby kicked—hard—like she was weighing in on this conversation.
“We’re both broken,” Jane whispered. “Both running from people who hurt us.”
“Maybe. Or maybe we’re both healing. Just in the same place at the same time.”
“You’re leaving eventually. Back to Connecticut. Back to your real life.”
“What if this is my real life?” Gabriel asked quietly. “What if the last two years were just—existing? And this is the first time I’ve actually lived since Serena left?”
“Don’t say that. Don’t—” Jane stood up, needing space, needing air. “You can’t make me your reason to stop running. That’s too much pressure. Too much—”
Gabriel stood too. “I’m not making you anything. I’m just telling you the truth. That for two years I’ve been numb. And then I found you. And I’m not numb anymore.”
“You feel sorry for me.”
“No. I feel—” He stopped. Started again. “I feel protective of you. I feel angry at everyone who hurt you. I feel grateful that you’re alive. I feel—” His voice dropped. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for you without knowing it.”
Jane wrapped her arms around herself. Around the baby. “This is too fast. Too much. We barely know each other.”
“I know enough. I know you’re everything David isn’t. I know you make me want to stay instead of run. I know—” Gabriel reached out, then stopped himself. “I know I’m terrifying you right now. And I’m sorry. But you asked why I don’t have normal. And the truth is—I don’t want normal. I want this. Whatever this is.”
“This is impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re his brother. Because I’m pregnant with another man’s child. Because I’m living under a fake name and looking over my shoulder every day. Because—” Her voice broke. “Because I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of letting you in. Of trusting you. Of believing this is real and then—” She looked away. “And then losing it.”
Gabriel moved closer. Still not touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you. I can’t promise this will work. But I can promise I’ll try. I can promise I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to go.”
“What if I tell you to go?”
“Then I’ll go. But I’ll still be here. In town. Available if you need me.” His eyes were steady. Certain. “You don’t have to let me in. But I’m asking you to consider it. Consider that maybe we’re both done running. That maybe we found each other for a reason.”
Jane looked at him—this man who’d appeared in her new life like an answer to a question she hadn’t asked. Who’d stayed when he could have left. Who looked at her pregnant belly not with pity but with protectiveness. Who made her feel seen in a way she’d forgotten was possible.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered.
“Do what?”
“Trust. Hope. Believe in—” She gestured between them. “This.”
“Then don’t. Not yet.” Gabriel stepped back, giving her space again. “Just—don’t shut me out. That’s all I’m asking. Let me stay. Let me help. Let me be whatever you need me to be.”
“And what do you need me to be?”
Gabriel smiled. Sad and true. “Just you. That’s more than enough.”
Around them, the bonfire continued. People laughing and talking and living their uncomplicated lives. The ocean crashed against the shore. The wind whipped cold off the water.
And Jane stood there looking at Gabriel Astor and thought: I’m already lost.
Because he wasn’t just asking to stay. He was offering himself. Broken and healing and honest about all of it. And that was more than David had ever given her. More than she’d thought she deserved.
“Okay,” she said finally.
“Okay?”
“Stay. Help. Be—” She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t name what she wanted him to be. “Just stay.”
Gabriel’s expression transformed. Relief. Joy. Something deeper. “I can do that.”
They walked back to the fire together. Sat closer this time, shoulders touching. Kieran offered them marshmallows to roast. Gabriel burned his immediately. Jane laughed—really laughed—for the first time in months.
And later, walking back to her apartment, Gabriel’s jacket around her shoulders because she’d been shivering, Jane realized something.
They were both running from pain. Both hiding from people who’d broken them.
But maybe—just maybe—they could stop running together.
Maybe two broken people could help each other heal.
Maybe this impossible thing could become real.
She didn’t say any of this out loud. Just handed Gabriel his jacket back at her door, thanked him for the evening, went inside.
But as she lay in bed that night, hand on her belly, feeling Clara Eleanor kick and move, Jane whispered to her daughter:
“Your uncle is a good man. Nothing like your father. And I think—” She paused. “I think I’m falling in love with him. Is that crazy?”
The baby kicked.
Jane chose to interpret it as approval.
Outside, unbeknownst to her, Gabriel sat in his truck for twenty minutes before driving away, trying to process what had just happened.
He’d told her the truth. All of it. About Serena, about running, about finding her and everything changing.
And she hadn’t run.
She’d said stay.
Gabriel drove back to the inn that night thinking: I’m not running anymore.
For the first time in two years, he wanted to stand still.
And Jane was the reason why.
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