Page 124 of At First Catch

God.

I love her.

“You’re staring again,” she murmurs sleepily.

I lean one shoulder against the railing, watching her move toward me.

“You coming out here looking like that before nine a.m. feels targeted.”

A smile tugs at her mouth.

“There’s the marina man charm.”

I groan. “Please stop encouraging that nickname.”

“Never.”

Hadley reaches me a second later and without hesitation slips directly into my space. Into my arms. Like she belongs there.

The movement happens so naturally that for one suspended second, I just stand there holding her against my chest while the sunrise spills across the bay around us.

Hadley presses her cheek lightly against my chest while I wrap one arm around her waist.

“You’re up early,” she murmurs.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

She tilts her head back. “Everything okay?”

I brush my fingers along her back beneath the thin cotton of my shirt.

“Yeah.”

She narrows her eyes.

“You’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The emotionally constipated one-word answer.”

A snort escapes me before I can stop it. I look down at her standing barefoot in my arms while morning light melts every edge of her face. And suddenly the truth presses too heavily against my chest to hold there anymore.

“I had a dream you left,” I admit softly.

Silence.

The marina sounds continue below us—dock lines creaking, workers unloading lumber, and gulls crying overhead—but the space between us goes still.

Hadley’s face immediately shifts, her emotions flitting across it like a startled bird.

“Nolan.”

I exhale, looking back toward the water, because vulnerability feels too sharp to hold eye contact.

“It was stupid.”

“No,” she says.