Page 211 of At First Catch

I type three different responses before deleting them all. Nothing sounds right. Nothing feels big enough to explain the panic sitting under my skin lately.

Before I can overthink further, Walter’s truck pulls into the marina lot beside me.

Of course.

Apparently, the universe has decided I need constant emotional supervision now.

Walter climbs out before eyeing me across the parking lot. “You look worse.”

“Thank you.”

“Your girlfriend yell at you?”

The word girlfriend still hits me directly in the chest every single time. Not because it’s new anymore, but because suddenly, I’m terrified of losing it.

“She wasn’t wrong,” I admit.

Walter studies me carefully.

“That usually means you really screwed up.”

I lean against the marina railing, staring toward the western slips where sunset light struggles weakly through dark clouds gathering offshore.

Without thinking better of it, I say, “What if I can’t save this place without changing it into something terrible?”

The question hangs heavily in the salt air between us. Walter doesn’t answer. And that silence scares me more than if he had.

“What if you’re asking the wrong question?”

I glance sideways.

Walter gestures broadly toward the marina.

“You keep talking like the goal is preserving every board the same forever.” He looks toward the docks thoughtfully. “That ain’t what people love about this place.”

An uneasiness swirls through me. “Then what do they love?”

Walter snorts like the answer should be obvious. “The people, idiot.”

His comment hits hard enough to steal my breath.

The charter captains.

The dock workers.

Families returning every summer.

Kids fishing off the slips.

Community.

Belonging.

Hadley’s voice echoes through my head again. You’re starting to forget why you loved it in the first place.

Christ. She’s right.

Not about the deal itself necessarily.