Page 102 of At First Catch

“Nolan.” Her voice becomes a gentle whisper. “That was ages ago.”

I glance toward the water briefly because eye contact suddenly feels dangerous again.

“Still mattered.”

The breeze moves gently through the deck while candlelight flickers gold across her skin. Music drifts from somewhere near the bar, low enough that the whole world feels slower.

Hadley studies me from across the table.

“You know what’s weird?”

“Probably a lot of things.”

A smile tugs briefly at her mouth. “You don’t actually seem as emotional as Lark described.”

I lean back in my chair. “That’s because you never met me before you.”

“What changed?” she asks.

You.

Instead, I glance down at the table for one brief second before admitting, “I got tired of feeling alone all the time.”

Her eyes hold mine steadily. She doesn’t answer right away. She reaches across the table, turns my water glass a quarter turn for no reason, then finally looks back at me.

“Nolan.”

The softness in her voice nearly breaks me. I exhale and look out toward the bay before I completely lose composure in the middle of dinner.

“You know what the worst part is?” I ask.

“What?”

“I didn’t realize how lonely I was until your family started making room for me.”

The words don’t drift away on the ocean breeze like I’d been hoping. Instead, they settle between us.

Hadley’s fingers curl tighter around her wineglass. “You already belong there.”

I laugh under my breath.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Claire texted this morning asking whether I was coming by Sunday. She didn’t ask if. She asked what time.

The server arrives with appetizers before I can spiral deeper into that emotional disaster.

Hadley tells me stories about growing up in Coral Bell Cove: accidentally sinking the golf cart, Crew breaking into the theater after curfew at sixteen, Holt jumping off the marina roof into Back Bay on a dare during a storm.

“That explains so much actually,” I mutter.

Hadley grins over her wineglass. “The Wright siblings are deeply chaotic.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.”

“You haven’t even seen Thanksgiving yet.”