Chapter 17 Gabe
GABE
Gabe sat in the sterile waiting room of the Jacksonville Naval Hospital, his injured leg propped on the chair beside him, crutches leaning against his knee. Jane sat next to him, her hand resting on his arm—a quiet, steady presence that kept him grounded when everything inside him wanted to bolt.
He had been in countless high-pressure situations. He’d faced enemy fire, made split-second life-or-death decisions, and led his team through hostile territory. But sitting here, waiting to find out if his career was over, felt harder than any of those moments.
Because those situations had been about survival. This was about identity. About who he was when he was not a Navy SEAL anymore.
“You okay?” Jane asked softly, her thumb tracing small circles on his forearm.
“Yeah,” Gabe said, though his voice came out rougher than he intended. “Just ready to get this over with.”
A nurse appeared in the doorway. “Bennett? Gabe Bennett?”
“That’s me,” Gabe said, grabbing his crutches and pulling himself up.
Jane stood too, and Gabe felt a rush of gratitude that she was here. That she had driven him the two hours to Jacksonville without complaint, that she had offered to sit in the waiting room or come with him, whatever he needed.
“You can come with me if you want,” Gabe said quietly.
“Are you sure?” Jane asked.
“I’m sure,” Gabe confirmed. “I want you there.”
They followed the nurse down a long corridor to an examination room. The walls were covered with anatomical charts and medical equipment that looked intimidating even to someone who had received field medical training.
Dr. Sarah Park entered a few minutes later, a woman in her forties with kind eyes and an air of competence that immediately put Gabe at ease. She reviewed his chart, asked him questions about pain levels and mobility, and then conducted a thorough examination of his leg.
“The bone is healing well,” Dr. Park said as she studied the X-rays on the light board. “Better than I expected, actually, given the severity of the initial break. You’ve been following the physical therapy protocol?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gabe confirmed.
“Good,” Dr. Park said. She turned to face him directly. “Now let’s talk about the shrapnel.”
Gabe’s chest tightened. This was the part that would determine everything.
“The piece lodged near your femoral artery is still there,” Dr. Park continued. “It hasn’t migrated, which is good. But it’s also not going anywhere on its own. The question is whether we attempt removal or leave it in place.”
“What are the risks of removal?” Jane asked, speaking up for the first time.
Dr. Park glanced at her, then at Gabe. “Your wife?”
“Friend,” Gabe said, though the word felt inadequate. “But she can hear anything you need to tell me.”
Dr. Park nodded. “The risks of removal are significant. The shrapnel is positioned in such a way that extracting it could damage the artery, leading to catastrophic bleeding. However, leaving it in place comes with its own risks—potential for migration, infection, or vascular complications down the line.”
“What do you recommend?” Gabe asked.
“There’s an experimental procedure being developed at Walter Reed,” Dr. Park said carefully.
“It uses advanced imaging and robotic assistance to remove foreign objects from high-risk locations. The success rate is promising—about seventy percent for cases like yours. It could make the extraction significantly safer.”
Hope flickered in Gabe’s chest. “So I could get it removed safely and be cleared for duty?”
Dr. Park’s expression softened with sympathy. “Gabe, even if the procedure is successful and we remove the shrapnel without complications, I can’t clear you for active combat duty.”
The hope died as quickly as it had sparked.
“The damage to your femur, combined with the location where the shrapnel was lodged, means your leg will never be at full strength again,” Dr. Park explained gently.
“You’ll be able to walk, run, and live a normal, active life.
But the kind of physical demands placed on Navy SEALs—the jumping, the sprinting with heavy gear, the extended operations in extreme conditions—your leg can’t handle that anymore. ”
Gabe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.
He had known this was coming. Had suspected it since the moment he woke up in that German hospital with doctors telling him how lucky he was to be alive.
But hearing it stated so definitively, so finally, felt like a door slamming shut on everything he had built his life around.
“So my career is over,” Gabe said flatly.
“Your career as an active-duty SEAL is over,” Dr. Park corrected. “But the Navy has other positions that could use your experience and expertise. Training roles, advisory positions, intelligence work. You have options, Gabe. They’re just different options than you had before.”
“What about the PEB?” Gabe asked. The Physical Evaluation Board—the panel that would officially determine whether he was fit to continue serving.
“I have to report my findings to them,” Dr. Park said. “And based on my evaluation, I’ll be recommending medical retirement or reassignment to limited duty. The final decision will be theirs, but they typically follow medical recommendations.”
Gabe nodded numbly. Medical retirement. After sixteen years of service, after dedicating his entire adult life to being a SEAL, it was over.
“I’ll need to run a few more tests,” Dr. Park said. “Blood work, some additional imaging. It’ll take about an hour. You can wait here or in the main waiting area—whichever you prefer.”
“We’ll wait here,” Jane said, speaking for both of them.
After Dr. Park left, the room fell into heavy silence. Gabe stared at the anatomical charts on the wall, not really seeing them, his mind spinning with the implications of what he had just been told.
“Gabe,” Jane said softly, but he could not look at her. Could not face the sympathy he knew would be in her eyes.
“I’m okay,” he said automatically, the lie he had been telling himself and everyone else for six years.
“No, you’re not,” Jane said gently. “And you don’t have to be.”
That broke something in him. Gabe’s shoulders sagged, and he felt tears burning behind his eyes. “I don’t know who I am if I’m not a SEAL,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “It’s all I’ve been since I was twenty-two years old. It’s how I define myself. It’s what I’m good at.”
Jane moved closer, wrapping her arms around him.
“You’re so much more than your job, Gabe.
You’re Trinity’s father. You’re a hero who saved countless lives.
You’re someone who faces impossible situations with courage and compassion.
That doesn’t change just because you can’t do active combat anymore. ”
“It feels like it changes everything,” Gabe said, his voice muffled against her shoulder.
“I know,” Jane said, and he knew she did. She had lost everything she thought defined her three years ago. Her husband, her baby, her career, her mobility. She understood what it felt like to have your identity ripped away and be left wondering who you were supposed to be now.
They sat like that for a while, Jane holding him while he processed the end of the life he had known. Eventually, his tears stopped and his breathing steadied.
“Trinity and Maddy saw us,” Gabe said suddenly, the words tumbling out. “Last night. Kissing in the ballroom.”
Jane pulled back slightly, surprise on her face. “They did?”
“Through the window,” Gabe confirmed. “Trinity asked me about it this morning. Point blank, no beating around the bush. She wanted to know what was going on between us.”
“What did you tell her?” Jane asked.
“The truth,” Gabe said. “That we’re getting closer.
That I care about you. That we’re taking things slow to make sure we’re doing this right.
” He paused. “And I told her that no one could ever replace her mother. That Abi will always be her mom, and nothing that happens between you and me changes that.”
Jane’s eyes misted over, and Gabe grabbed her hand, holding tight.
“I’m sorry if I caused her stress,” Jane said, worry evident in her voice. “I never wanted to complicate things with Trinity.”
“No,” Gabe assured her quickly. “Not stress. She’s not stressed about it at all. Actually, she wanted to know if we’re going to be moving to Anastasia Island now.”
Jane laughed, the sound breaking some of the tension in the room. “We haven’t even discussed what ‘we’ means yet, and she’s already planning where we’re going to live?”
Gabe grinned despite everything. “While we’re taking it slow, my daughter is moving our relationship full steam ahead.”
The room fell quiet for a moment. Then Gabe spoke again, his voice soft but certain.
“She’s right to do that,” he said. “I can’t lie, Jane. I’ve fallen for you hard and fast. There’s no turning back for me. And I hope I don’t scare you away, but I’m in love with you.”
Jane stared at him wide-eyed, her breath catching. “I feel the same way about you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Gabe pulled her to him and kissed her, pouring everything he was feeling into it—the love, the fear, the hope, the grief. Jane kissed him back just as fiercely, her hands coming up to frame his face.
“Ahem.”
They broke apart to see Dr. Park standing in the doorway, a slight smile on her face.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “But we’re ready for those tests now.”
The next hour passed in a blur of needles and imaging machines and medical jargon. When it was finally over and they were back in the examination room, Dr. Park reviewed the results.
“Everything looks as expected,” she said. “The shrapnel is stable. If you decide to pursue the experimental procedure, I can put in a referral to Walter Reed. But that’s entirely your choice.”
“What would you do?” Gabe asked. “If you were me?”
Dr. Park considered the question carefully.
“I’d probably wait. See how things progress over the next six months.
If the shrapnel remains stable and you’re not having complications, leaving it might be the safer choice.
But if you start having issues—pain, swelling, reduced circulation—then the procedure becomes more necessary. ”
Gabe nodded slowly. It was not the answer he had wanted, but it was honest. And right now, he appreciated honesty more than false hope.
“I’ll submit my report to the PEB by the end of the week,” Dr. Park said. “You should hear from them within a month. In the meantime, continue your physical therapy and take care of that leg.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Gabe said, shaking her hand.
As they left the hospital and walked to the car, Gabe felt strangely light despite the heavy news he had just received. His SEAL career was over. The PEB would confirm it officially, but the outcome was already decided.
And yet, he didn’t feel the crushing despair he had expected. Instead, he felt something that might have been relief.
“You know what they say,” Gabe said as Jane helped him into the passenger seat. “Whenever a door closes, another one opens.”
Jane closed his door and walked around to the driver’s side. “And what door is opening for you?” she asked as she started the car.
“The one that led me to you,” Gabe said simply. “It’s time I stopped missing out on my daughter’s life. I don’t know what I’m going to do for work or where I’m going to live or how I’m going to figure out who I am outside of being a SEAL. But I know I want to do it with you and Trinity by my side.”
Jane’s eyes blurred with tears. “I’ll be there with you and Trinity both,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Every step of the way.”
They drove back to Anastasia Island mostly in comfortable silence, holding hands across the center console. As they pulled into the inn’s parking lot, Jane turned to him.
“You have to tell your family, Gabe,” she said gently.
“I know,” Gabe nodded. He squeezed her hand. “I have to tell our family.”
Jane’s smile rivaled the sun as she leaned over and kissed him. “Our family,” she repeated. “I like the sound of that.”
JULIE
Julie sat in the dining room with William, enjoying a late afternoon cup of tea and the peaceful view of the ocean through the tall windows. The inn was quiet at this hour, most guests out exploring St. Augustine or resting in their rooms before dinner.
“Look, William,” Julie said, nodding toward the parking lot visible through the window. “I do believe that’s wish number three granted.”
Gabe and Jane had just pulled up in Holly’s car. Even from a distance, Julie could see the way they looked at each other—the tenderness, the connection, the kind of love that came from shared pain and understanding.
“You mean wish number four granted,” William reminded her with a grin. “You keep forgetting I made the very first wish that brought Holly here in the first place.”
Julie laughed and kissed his cheek. “I’m really sorry, my dear. But your wish was a two-part one, so how about I say three and a half wishes granted?”
William smiled and squeezed her hand. They turned back to the window and watched as Gabe and Jane walked into the inn, hands linked, faces serious but somehow peaceful.
“They’re in love,” Julie said with satisfaction.
“They are,” William agreed. “And unless I’m very much mistaken, that young man just got some difficult news.”
“Medical discharge, probably,” Julie said softly. “But he has Jane now. And Trinity. That will help him through it.”
“Do you ever worry,” William asked, “that all this magic and all these wishes might be too much? That we’re meddling in things we shouldn’t?”
Julie considered the question seriously.
“I worry sometimes,” she admitted. “But then I remember that all we’re really doing is giving people a chance.
The magic doesn’t force them to fall in love or make difficult decisions.
It just opens doors. What they do with those open doors is entirely up to them. ”
“That’s a good way of looking at it,” William said.
They watched Gabe and Jane disappear into the inn, and Julie felt a deep contentment settle over her. Her family inn was fulfilling its purpose—providing a place where broken people could heal, where lost souls could find their way home, where love could bloom even in the darkest seasons.
“How many wishes left on that tree?” William asked.
Julie smiled mysteriously. “As many as it takes, my dear. As many as it takes.”