Page 123 of At First Catch

Nolan glances toward the bags. “Are we still pretending we remembered food exists?”

“We should probably protect the illusion that we are responsible adults.”

“Probably.”

I pull back enough to study him. “You’re doing it now.”

“Doing what?”

“The threatening little hum that makes it sound like you know something I don’t.”

His smile turns slow. “Maybe I do.”

“There it is again.”

He kisses me once more, softer this time. Tender enough that the ache in my chest has nothing to do with fear.

We unpack dinner side by side, bumping hips in my small kitchen while Nolan steals fries from my container and denies it even with the evidence in his hand. His blueprints remain spread across the table. His sweatshirt now covers my body. His truck sits outside beside my cottage as though it has always belonged there.

None of it feels temporary.

For the first time, I let myself believe that maybe that was the point.

This no longer feels like the beginning of a romance.

It feels like the beginning of a life.

Chapter Sixteen

NOLAN

By early July, Hadley has unofficially moved into my routine without either of us acknowledging it out loud.

It starts small. Coffee appearing on my desk before eight. Texts asking whether I’ve eaten lunch. Her shoes kicked off beside the couch upstairs in the marina apartment because she “didn’t feel like carrying them down.”

None of it should feel significant. Instead, every tiny thing settles somewhere deep in my chest like proof. Proof that she’s here. Proof that she keeps choosing me.

I stand on the upper marina balcony watching sunrise spill gold across Back Bay while construction crews arrive below. The marina glows in the early morning light now—fresh lumber along the western slips, newly painted railings catching sunlight, boats rocking gently against restored docks.

Three months ago, this place looked half dead.

Now?

It feels alive.

Hopeful.

And every hopeful thing in my life lately traces directly back to Hadley. The thought lingers heavily while I sip coffee from the mug she left upstairs yesterday.

Nobody’s ever left pieces of themselves in my spaces before.

The apartment door creaks behind me. Warmth spreads through my chest. I glance over my shoulder, and there she is. Barefoot. Sleep-rumpled. Wearing one of my marina T-shirts that hangs obscenely low over her thighs.

Jesus Christ.

Every cell in my brain dissolves.

Hadley steps onto the balcony, rubbing sleep from her eyes while morning wind moves through her hair. And suddenly something in my chest physically aches from how much affection crashes through me all at once.