Page 140 of At First Catch

“Nolan Pierce.”

My eyes meet hers.

“You are not temporary.”

The apartment goes completely still.

Rain taps steadily against the windows, suddenly louder in the silence.

I know what she means.

I also know she has no idea what those words do to me.

Temporary has defined nearly every part of my life.

Temporary homes.

Temporary families.

Temporary rooms filled with things I never fully unpacked because I learned young that permanence was mostly a word people used when they wanted children to feel secure.

Even the life I built for myself started with an exit plan.

Work hard.

Be useful.

Never need anyone badly enough that losing them could ruin you.

Hadley looks at me as if none of those rules apply anymore.

“You are not temporary,” she repeats.

The words hurt in the strange way sunlight might hurt after someone has spent too long underground.

My hand moves along her back because I need the contact to keep myself anchored.

“You can’t say things like that this early in the morning,” I manage.

“Why?”

A rough laugh leaves me.

“Because I barely survived you saying you love me last night.”

As her gaze softens, a wave of protective tenderness washes over me, and I instinctively dart my gaze away before her gentle weight settles against me, her breath a soft whisper against my chest.

I know she hears the uneven rhythm beneath her ear.

Before Hadley, I moved through life carefully. I felt things privately, then locked them away before anyone had the chance to notice.

Now every emotion spills into the way I touch her.

The way I watch her.

The way my pulse loses any ability to behave when she says something real enough to reach the parts of me I spent years protecting.

Outside the apartment, the storm begins breaking apart. Sunlight pushes weakly through the lingering clouds while the marina wakes below us.