The blush that graced her cheeks was immediate. "It was my father's."
"It looks good on you," he said as he passed her, heading back toward the house. "Have a seat." He pointed to the Adirondack chairs arranged around the fire ring. "I'll get us some drinks. Beer okay?"
"Yes. Thank you."
He disappeared inside, and she sank into one of the chairs. The wood was smooth and cool against her palms. She looked out at the water, dark now except for the faint reflection of emerging stars. The sound of waves lapping against the shore was soft and steady, a rhythm she could feel in her bones.
This was not how she had imagined her first night in Copper Moon. But sitting here, with the fire ring waiting to be lit and the trees whispering in the breeze and the water breathing against the shore, she felt something loosen in her chest.
Brian returned with two beers and a pack of matches. He handed her a bottle, the glass cold and sweating in the evening air, then set his own on the arm of the chair beside hers.
He struck a match and held it to the kindling, waiting for it to catch. The first match burned out. The second one flickered, then steadied, and a small flame licked up through the wood. He blew on it gently, coaxing it higher, and soon the fire was crackling, throwing warm light across the stones.
He added more kindling, then settled into his chair. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The fire popped and hissed. The stars brightened overhead. The water continued its endless conversation with the shore.
Tessa took a sip of her beer and let the cold slide down her throat. It was good. Simple. Real.
Brian glanced out over the water, his profile lit by the flames. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before.
"I've been here about a month. Bought the place from the Calloways after they helped me out when I first came to town. They're good people. Just old and forgetful now."
She nodded. "I'm sorry for barging in on your peace."
He was quiet for a moment. "It's not your fault. None of us knew."
The fire danced between them, casting shadows that moved like living things. She watched the flames and thought about how far she had come today. Chicago felt like another world now, another life. The hospital, the stress, the weight of all those broken bodies and broken families. It was still there, still waiting for her to return. But for this moment, sitting by a fire with a stranger who had reluctantly offered her shelter, it felt very far away.
"What brought you to Copper Moon?" she asked.
He took a long pull of his beer. "My friends. Hank and Colby. They came here last summer for a vintage motorcycle race: the Copper Moon Cup. I tagged along. Found I liked the pace here better than where I was." He shrugged, the motion making his shoulders roll. "So I stayed, so did they; we're opening a vintage motorcycle restoration shop together. But this is home."
Home. The word hung in the air like a promise. She wondered what it would feel like to claim a place like that, to decide you belonged somewhere and simply stay.
"That's a big change," she said.
"Sometimes the big ones are the right ones."
She looked at him then, really looked, and saw something beneath the gruff exterior. A man who had made a choice to start over. A man who had found something worth keeping.
The fire crackled, and the stars wheeled slowly overhead, and Tessa felt the first fragile thread of something she had not felt in a long time.
Hope.
Chapter Two
What the ever-loving fuck was this shit?
Brian stood at the kitchen counter, staring out the window at the fire ring where the embers still glowed faintly in the darkness. Tessa had gone to bed an hour ago, retreating to the spare room with a quiet "goodnight" that carried more exhaustion than he'd heard in two syllables before.
He was supposed to share his little cottage with a stranger. A stranger who seemed to think tears fixed everything.
Except that wasn't fair, and he knew it. She hadn't cried to manipulate him. She'd cried because she was at the end of her rope, and he recognized that look. He'd worn it himself not so long ago.
He finished his second beer and set the empty bottle in the sink. Through the wall, he could hear nothing from her room. Either she was already asleep, or she was lying there in the dark, trying to figure out how her peaceful escape had turned into this.
He knew the feeling.
The Calloways had been good to him when he'd first arrived in Copper Moon. He'd helped them with some repairs around their place, and when they decided to move closer to their daughter in Charleston, they'd offered him the cottage at a price that was more gift than sale. Mr. Calloway's dementia had been getting worse, and Mrs. Calloway couldn't manage both him and the property anymore. Brian had been happy to take it off their hands, happy to finally have a place that was his.
