Page 152 of At First Catch

Because somewhere along the way, seeing Hadley stopped feeling like something I fit into my day.

Now it feels like the part my whole day has been building toward.

I set the phone down while marina noise hums beyond the office windows, then I catch my own reflection faintly in the glass.

And for the first time in years, I look like someone building a life instead of passing through one.

By twelve-fifty, I’ve checked the time six separate times, which feels excessive.

The marina office hums with midday chaos around us while sunlight flashes bright across Back Bay outside the windows. Charter captains move between slips, tourists crowd the bait shop, and somewhere near the fuel dock Walter Greene argues passionately with a delivery driver about crab traps.

Everything feels alive.

Busy.

And beneath all of it, anticipation hums steadily beneath my ribs because in ten minutes I get to see Hadley.

Miguel watches me carefully while tightening bolts on a supply shelf near the office door.

“You know normal people survive a few hours without seeing their girlfriends.”

“Mind your business.”

Miguel grins. “That’s a no.”

I point at him in warning. “I can fire you.”

“No, you can’t.” He gestures vaguely toward the marina outside. “Walter likes me.”

Damn it.

He’s right.

This town truly is organized chaos disguised as a community.

I head out toward Main Street anyway before anyone else can emotionally harass me further.

Warm coastal air wraps around me while gulls cry overhead and sunlight spills gold across the sidewalks. Coral Bell Cove buzzes around me—tourists drifting between shops, locals chatting outside cafés, boats gliding across Back Bay in the distance.

The lighthouse comes into view at the far end of Main Street, white stone glowing bright against blue sky while waves move lazily behind it.

And there she is.

Hadley sits cross-legged near the edge of the boardwalk outside the bookstore, holding iced coffee and reading something on her phone.

My whole body reacts.

Every single time.

There she is. The woman I love.

Sunlight catches against her hair while wind moves through the loose strands falling around her face. She’s wearing denim shorts and one of my marina sweatshirts again, sleeves pushed up her forearms while her bare legs stretch out toward the water.

Beautiful. Always beautiful. But it’s not just that anymore. Looking at Hadley feels like relief now.

Like my nervous system recognizes her as home before the rest of me catches up.

Before I can call out, Hadley looks up and smiles.