Chapter Five #2
"Your dad and your mom didn't die so you could freeze your life at age eight and worship their memory in a building. They died hoping you'd live. That you'd grow up, take risks, fall in love, build something meaningful, embrace all the joy and pain and triumph that life offers."
His voice cracked. "Honoring them doesn't mean preserving the past exactly as it was. It means having the courage to build something new worth passing on. To love fiercely even knowing loss is possible. To celebrate the people who matter for as long as you have them."
I sobbed into his shoulder like I hadn't since I was eight years old and they'd told me my parents were gone.
"That's what they'd want for you," he said into my hair. "Not a shrine. Not frozen grief. But life, Ruby. Full, messy, beautiful life."
When I finally pulled back, both of us were crying.
"Make it right with Gil. Tell him the whole story. That man deserves to know who you really are."
"I know." I wiped my face. "I'm going back there now."
He squeezed my shoulder. "I love you. Always have. I'm sorry I shut you out—-I was ashamed I'd failed you and James. But I'm not ashamed anymore."
"You shouldn’t be—you never had anything to be ashamed about. And I love you, too." The words came easier than they had in months.
I WALKED BACK THROUGH the cold morning air toward Gil's cabin, my heart pounding with every step.
Gil was at the dining table when I let myself in, coffee cup in hand, the breakfast I'd made half-eaten in front of him. He stood immediately when I entered, and something in his steel-gray eyes made my breath catch.
He'd been waiting. Patient. Giving me space to do what I needed to do.
But there was concern there too—worry, maybe even hurt that I'd left without waking him.
"Hi," I said quietly.
"Hi." He set down his cup but didn't move closer. "Thank you for breakfast. It was incredible."
"You're welcome."
Silence stretched between us. He didn't demand answers. Didn't push. Just waited.
I took a breath. Then another.
"My full name is Ruby Flynn."
Gil went absolutely still.
"Flynn," he repeated slowly. "As in Flynn's Lodge?"
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
His face shifted—shock, understanding, pain washing across his features in waves as pieces clicked into place.
"James and Rebecca Flynn were my parents," I continued, the words tumbling out now. "They died when I was eight. Uncle Danny raised me at the lodge. It was my childhood home. Every memory I have of my parents happened in those rooms."
I forced myself to keep going. To say it all.
"When you bought it, I lost my home, my three jobs—head pastry chef, kitchen manager, events coordinator—and my family's legacy all at once. I've been parking my food truck outside The Pinnacle seething every single day since."
Gil's jaw was tight, his knuckles white around his coffee cup.
"I spent everything I had to win you at that auction." My voice shook. "My plan was to—to seduce you, make you fall for me, find dirt on your business practices, then publicly destroy and humiliate you at today's celebration. I wanted—" My breath hitched. "I wanted revenge."
"You played me." His voice was flat. Not a question. Statement of fact.
"It started that way." Tears were streaming down my face now. "But Gil, I was wrong. About all of it. I—"
I couldn't get the words out. My throat closed up, chest heaving. I couldn't breathe.
Gil moved then, crossing to me, his hands on my shoulders. "Breathe, Ruby. Just breathe."
I gulped air, shaking under his hands.
"Yesterday I went through your office files," I managed. "Found the acquisition paperwork. You offered Uncle Danny more than the property was worth. He refused the extra money. You tried to help him."
Gil's expression was unreadable.
"And this morning—" My voice broke again. "This morning I talked to Danny. He told me the truth. The debt, the foreclosure threat, how he was drowning for twenty years trying to keep the lodge going. How you saved him. How he's happy now doing what he loves."
I met his eyes, tears blurring my vision.
"I turned you into my enemy," I whispered. "Made you a target for all my rage. Because if it wasn't your fault, then I had to face what I've really been doing—hiding. Clinging to the past because moving forward felt like losing my parents all over again."
My hands fisted in my sweater. "That building was the last place they were alive.
Every room held their memory. And as long as it stayed frozen exactly as it was, I could pretend they weren't really gone.
But you changed it. Transformed it. And that forced me to face reality—that life moves forward whether I'm ready or not. "
I nodded, more tears spilling over. "Because hating you was easier than facing my own grief.
Than accepting that embracing the future—building something new, taking risks, falling in love, hoping for tomorrow—that doesn't betray their memory.
But I was terrified it would. Terrified that if I let go of the past and chose life, I'd be leaving them behind. "
Gil stood there, his hands still on my shoulders. Something shifted in his expression—understanding dawning, the anger draining away.
"That building was never the point," he said quietly. "You were hiding from life."
I nodded, unable to speak.
He pulled me into his arms, just holding me while I cried. No defensiveness. No accusations. Just quiet understanding.
When I finally pulled back, his steel-gray eyes were wet too.
"I never connected you to Danny," he said finally, voice rough. "All this time working with him, and I never knew he had family. Never asked the right questions."
He paced to the windows, hands shoved in his pockets. "If I'd known... I would have reached out. Would have tried to include you in the transition. Would have honored your connection more deliberately."
He turned back to me. "I told you things I don't share. About Amanda. The fertility struggles. I opened my home. My heart. Offered you a future."
"I know. And I'm so sorry."
"I wasn't trying to hurt anyone." His voice carried pain. "I saw a failing property, a chance to build something meaningful. Tried to be generous, preserve what mattered. But I didn't know the full story."
"I know that now," I said.
"Do you?" He met my eyes directly. "Because how do I trust this? How do I know you're not still—"
"You don't," I interrupted. "You have to choose to trust me. And I know I haven't earned that."
I stood before him with nothing left to hide behind.
"I'm broke. I have nothing. No job, no savings, no backup plan. I can't pay next month's rent. I have no power here, Gil. No leverage. Just the truth that I have real feelings for you and I'm terrified I've destroyed any chance we had."
His expression softened slightly.
"And the age gap?" he asked. "Twenty years between us. Does that matter?"
"Only if we let it," I said. "You're offering me a chance to build something meaningful. And you're the man I've developed feelings for. Your age doesn't change any of that."
"I told myself I'd missed my window," Gil said quietly. "That I was too old for this."
"You're not. And I'm not looking for a father figure—I'm looking for someone who sees me as an equal even when I'm wrong and stupid and planning revenge."
Something shifted in his expression. He crossed the room in three strides and pulled me into his arms.
"Don't ever lie to me again," he said against my hair. “No matter what the truth is. Because if you let me in, I promise I can handle it. We’ll face whatever it is, together. Life can be hard, but the one thing I’ve learned is that shutting people out hurts even more.”
"Never. I swear."
We held each other, both crying, both terrified and relieved. I felt his heart pounding against mine, his arms tight around me like he was afraid I'd disappear.
"I need to tell you something," he said finally, pulling back enough to look at me. "And I need you to hear it."
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.
"I started developing feelings for you Friday night when you made those strawberries and talked about food like it mattered.
When I saw your passion, your fire, your spirit.
" His hand came up to cup my face. "And now, even learning what you planned, what you were doing... it doesn't change how I feel. In fact, knowing what you’ve been through, hearing everything now from your point of view, I can understand why you did what you did.”
"Gil—"
"Tonight," he said quietly. "The gala. We still have to face everyone."
I nodded. "I know."
"Together," he said.
"Together," I agreed, my voice barely a whisper. "For real this time."
He pulled back enough to really look at me. And what I saw in his eyes made my breath catch.
"I want you to understand something," he said, his voice rough. "I'm all in. This isn't casual for me. This isn't a weekend fling. When I offer you something, I mean it."
"I know." My hands fisted in his shirt. "I know that now."
He kissed me then. Tender at first, then deeper, his hands framing my face like I was precious. Something he'd chosen. Something he wanted to keep.
When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
"I need you," I whispered. "Right now. No lies. No walls. Just us."
His eyes darkened. "You sure?"
"Completely."
But instead of moving immediately, he pulled me closer, just holding me. His hand stroked down my back, the other cradling my head against his chest. I could hear his heart pounding.
"I was terrified this morning when I found your note," he murmured. "Thought maybe you'd left for good. Thought I'd pushed too hard, offered too much, scared you off."
"I'm sorry." I pressed my face into his neck. "I should have woken you. Should have told you where I was going."
"You're here now. That's what matters."