Page 223 of At First Catch

For several quiet moments neither of us speaks.

“She okay?” he asks, kicking a piece of gravel off the dock and back toward the parking lot.

The dawning realization that I don’t know sends a sharp, painful twist through my chest.

“I think I broke her heart,” I admit.

Walter exhales heavily beside me. “Probably.”

I glare sideways. “You continue to be shockingly unhelpful.”

“You want helpful or honest?”

I stare out toward Back Bay where gray clouds drift low over the water while guilt presses painfully beneath my ribs.

Because the awful truth is Hadley tried to warn me weeks ago. Every conversation. Every argument. She kept asking me to let her stand beside me honestly while I kept retreating farther inward every time fear showed up.

I confused emotional isolation with protection for so long that I stopped realizing how lonely I was making the people around me feel.

But Hadley loved me through it all anyway. Loved me patiently. Openly. Bravely. And I still let fear shape too many decisions.

My chest aches, a tight coil of guilt twisting within me.

Walter studies me carefully for another moment before speaking again.

“You know why the Wright girl finally walked away?”

I look over.

Fear flashes low and ugly beneath my ribs.

Walter gestures vaguely toward the marina around us. “Because she realized you’d destroy yourself trying to carry everything before you’d trust somebody enough to help you hold it.”

That’s exactly what happened. I kept trying to shoulder every possible disaster alone until eventually there wasn’t room left for Hadley beside me emotionally anymore.

I lean against the marina railing, scrubbing one hand harshly down my face.

“I don’t know how to stop doing that.”

The honesty leaves me exposed, but I’m too exhausted to pretend otherwise anymore.

Walter stays quiet for a long moment, then adds, “You stop acting like love means being the only person suffering.”

The words strike with a force that left an invisible ache.

Part of me genuinely believed sacrificing myself for everyone else made me dependable, but Hadley never asked for martyrdom. She asked for partnership.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Hope spikes before I can stop it.

Not Hadley, but her sister Lila.

Lila

I’m told you haven’t eaten today.

I stare at the message, then unexpectedly laugh under my breath.