7. Nolan #2
The old brass bell outside the bait shop ringing because some little kid caught their first fish while half the dock applauded like they’d just won a tournament.
Live music drifting over the water.
Somewhere, a little girl dramatically pretending to be a pirate while her parents laugh from the restaurant deck.
Kids running between picnic tables while tourists crowd the railings at sunset.
The kind of ordinary traditions people don’t realize they’re making until years later.
And Hadley is somewhere in the middle of all of it.
Smiling. Snickering. Carrying paperwork she pretends to hate while organizing everything around her.
I catch myself wondering where she’d set up the vendor tents. Which dock she’d reserve for live music. Whether she’d still steal my clipboard every time she disagreed with me.
I stop. I’ve started planning around someone who doesn’t even know she’s a part of the picture yet.
I don’t just want the marina to work. I want a life here. And Hadley has already become tangled up in that vision.
Which is absolutely terrifying.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. This time, it’s Hadley, and my entire body reacts.
Hadley
Mom asked if you’re allergic to anything before dinner tonight.
I stare at the message, then sigh.
Of course, Claire Wright already considers my attendance confirmed.
Me
Your family operates like a small government.
Hadley
Accurate.
Me
Is dinner mandatory?
Hadley
Technically? Yes.
Jesus Christ.
The same phrasing Holt used earlier.
Me
You’ve all been trained.
Hadley
Survival instinct.
I lean against the dock railing, smiling despite myself while sunset light spills gold across the water.
Me
I’m beginning to think your mother scares me.
Hadley
She’ll love that.
Me
That was not intended positively.
Hadley
Doesn’t matter.
Three dots appear again.
Disappear.
Hadley
She’s excited you’re coming.
The warmth that spreads through my chest at those words feels deeply unfair.
I type back before I can overthink it.
Me
Are you?
The response doesn’t come.
And suddenly, I can picture her somewhere at the farm staring at her phone exactly the way I’m staring at mine now.
Waiting. Thinking. Feeling too much.
Hadley
Nolan.
Just my name. Soft even through text.
My chest tightens.
Me
That’s not an answer.
I pinch my bottom lip between my thumb and forefinger as I wait.
Hadley
Maybe that should concern both of us.
A shiver traces its way down my spine, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. I know exactly what she means.
I look out over the marina while the last light bleeds across Back Bay and realize something dangerous has already started happening between us.
Not just attraction.
Not just chemistry.
Something deeper.
Something building itself carefully in all the spaces between almost touches and late-night texts and lingering looks across weathered docks.
And the worst part?
I don’t think either of us wants to stop it anymore.
By the time I pull into Otter Creek Farm just before six, my nerves are doing something deeply unfamiliar.
Not anxiety exactly.
Awareness.
Like my entire body understands I’m stepping into something important before my brain has caught up.
The Wright family farmhouse glows warmly beneath the fading evening sky, porch lights casting soft gold across the front steps while amusement drifts faintly through open windows.
Every porch light is on. Somebody left the screen door open. Cries of joy spill out before I even shut off the truck. Nobody looks surprised to see another car pull into the driveway. They’d simply expected one more chair would be needed.
Cars already crowd the gravel drive when I climb out of the truck. Dean’s black SUV sits near the barn beside Rowan’s dusty pickup, and Crew’s excessively expensive sports car that looks wildly out of place is parked beside tractors.
A screen door slams somewhere behind the house, then Hadley appears around the side yard carrying a bowl covered in foil.
She’s wearing soft denim shorts and an oversized cream sweater slipping off one shoulder, exposing sun-kissed skin my hands suddenly remember in dangerous detail.
Her hair falls loose tonight, wind-tossed and brilliant in the porch light.
She stops when she sees me standing beside the truck. A softness spreads across her face. As if she’s relieved I came.
“You’ll survive dinner,” she promises as she walks closer.
“That feels overly confident.”
“You haven’t met enough Wright women yet.”
“I’ve met your mother.”
“Exactly.”
The porch light catches her eyes as she smiles up at me, warm and teasing and entirely too beautiful for my peace of mind, then her gaze drifts over me.
Not subtle. Not accidental either.
Desire pools in my stomach.
Quietly, she says, “You changed.”
“So did you.”
The air shifts again with awareness. Hadley’s fingers tighten around the bowl in her hands.
“You clean up nice for a marina owner.”
I glance down at the dark Henley and jeans I threw on after showering back at the cottage rental near the marina. “That's what I am now?”
“Apparently.”
“And what exactly does a marina owner look like?”
“Tall,” she says.
My pulse stumbles once.
“Grumpy.”
“That feels rude.”
“Emotionally repressed.”
“Definitely rude.”
Hadley steps closer then, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“But unexpectedly attractive when holding power tools.”
I stare at her.
She blinks innocently.
Jesus Christ.
I murmur, “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why?”
Because my self-control is already hanging by a thread.
Because every time she smiles at me like this, something inside me shifts closer toward wanting things I promised myself not to want.
Because if she keeps looking at me that way, standing beneath porch lights in tiny shorts and soft sweaters, I’m eventually going to kiss her somewhere deeply inappropriate.
Instead, I say, “You’re making dinner dangerous.”
The corner of her mouth lifts.
“Maybe I like dangerous.”
Before I can answer, the front door swings open.
“HADLEY,” Claire calls from inside. “If you’re flirting with Nolan in the driveway, at least bring the potatoes first.”
Silence. Absolute silence.
I close my eyes briefly while peals of glee erupt somewhere inside the house.
Then Hadley mutters, “I’m moving.”
I laugh. Really laugh this time.
It seems I don’t laugh enough either.
“You heard nothing,” she informs me.
“Impossible. Your mother announced it to the county.”
A blush floods her cheeks. And God help me, I think this might be my favorite version of Hadley yet.
Hadley exhales dramatically and starts toward the porch. “Come on. Before my family decides to make this worse.”
“That implies they aren’t already trying.”
“Oh, they absolutely are.”
The second we step inside the farmhouse, warmth wraps around me from every direction.
The kitchen smells like garlic, rosemary, butter, and fresh bread. Music plays softly somewhere near the dining room while overlapping conversations fill the space with the kind of comfortable chaos I still don’t fully know how to exist inside.
Claire spots me from the stove.
“There he is.” She crosses the kitchen before I can react and pulls me directly into a hug.
A hug.
Like this is normal and I belong here enough to hug. It catches me off guard badly enough that I freeze for half a second before carefully hugging her back.
“You look too skinny,” she announces.
I glance at Hadley.
“She says that to everyone,” Hadley whispers.
Claire points a wooden spoon at her daughter without looking away from me. “Not true. Rowan’s finally filled out properly.”
“Mom,” Rowan calls from the dining room. “That sounds threatening.”
“Eat more vegetables,” Claire yells back.
The room erupts into overlapping responses.
Crew lounges near the kitchen island, stealing cheese cubes from a tray while Bailey repeatedly slaps his hand away. Dean stands close by while Evelyn and Oliver race remote control vehicles across the floor near Holt’s boots.
And despite the noise, despite the chaos, despite the overwhelming closeness of all of it—everything feels easy here.
Hadley moves naturally through the kitchen beside her family, sliding into conversations without effort, while Claire starts directing me toward food, as if resistance is futile.
“Sit,” she orders.
“I can help.”
“You can eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Crew howls joyfully from across the room. “Oh, he learns fast.”
I side-eye him.
Crew grins. “Mom’s terrifying. Survival depends on adaptation.”
“Smart boy,” Claire says approvingly.
Bailey catches my eye over Crew’s shoulder, then very obviously looks toward Hadley, then back at me.
Oh no.
Hadley notices, and her eyes narrow. Bailey’s smile widens. I suddenly understand exactly where Hadley learned emotional warfare.
Dinner unfolds loudly after that. Plates are passed around the table while conversations overlap in every direction at once.
Holt and Rowan argue about dock repairs.
Ivy tells a story about a fan mailing homemade cookies to her publisher’s office.
Evelyn insists I help color a paper placemat because she’s just another person I can’t say no to.
Through all of it, Hadley sits next to me, the corner of the table separating us. And every single time our eyes meet, something shifts beneath my ribs. Something impossible to ignore now.
At one point, she cackles so hard at something Bailey says that she reaches automatically for my arm beneath the table. Warm fingers wrap briefly around my forearm.
The contact lasts maybe two seconds. Still enough to send sparks shooting straight through me.
Hadley realizes what she’s done. Her eyes fly to mine, and neither of us moves.
The room continues around us in a blur of noise and warm light, while awareness stretches tight between our bodies.
Then Holt looks up from beside her and goes very still. Hadley releases my arm.
My pulse pounds once, hard, because the moment Holt Wright starts pulling on threads, this entire thing becomes infinitely more complicated.
And judging by the slight narrowing of his eyes as he glances between us—that process may have already started.