7. Nolan #3
The rest of dinner passes with the clanking of silverware against plates, jokes and teasing tossed back and forth, and the dangerous realization that I could get used to this far too quickly.
Claire keeps refilling everyone’s plates whether they want more food or not.
Mason tells the same fishing story three separate times.
Bailey and Lila dissolve into helpless mirth over something involving a disastrous high school date while Crew pretends not to enjoy being the center of attention despite clearly thriving on it.
And through all of it, Hadley moves between everyone effortlessly.
Claire reaches for the serving spoon. Hadley already has it in her hand.
Oliver’s juice runs low. She refills it without looking.
Holt starts reaching for the rolls. She slides the basket toward him first. It happens over and over until I realize nobody’s asking her. She’s simply watching everyone else.
I’ve spent so much of my life convincing myself I didn’t need roots that standing in the middle of a family built entirely from them feels almost disorienting.
“You’re staring again.”
I blink and look down.
Evelyn studies me seriously from her seat while absentmindedly braiding one of her dolls’ tiny plastic ponytails.
“I’m sorry?”
“At Aunt Hadley.”
A burning sensation crawls up my neck. Beside me, Hadley nearly chokes on her wine. Crew looks up.
“Oh, this should be interesting.”
Hadley points at him. “Don’t.”
“I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“That’s what worries me.”
Oliver squints at me from beside Holt. “You do look at Aunt Hadley a lot.”
Jesus Christ. Children are terrifying. I suddenly understand why people used to abandon villages to avoid medieval prophecies because kids notice everything.
Hadley refuses to look directly at me now, which honestly only makes the awareness between us worse. Claire glances between us once and very deliberately says nothing. That feels more intimidating.
Meanwhile, Holt has gone suspiciously quiet. And since Holt Wright usually operates at the energy level of an affectionate golden retriever during family dinners, the silence puts me on edge.
I became acutely aware of every glance toward Hadley after that. Every accidental brush of attention. Every shift in the air when she laughs.
This is becoming unsustainable. Dangerously unsustainable.
Dinner eventually dissolves into cleanup chaos, everyone moving instinctively around each other while leftovers disappear into containers and dishes stack beside the sink.
I stand automatically to help.
Claire points at me. “Guest.”
“I’m not a guest.”
The words leave my mouth before I filter them. Hadley’s gaze meets mine across the kitchen. Warmth spreads low beneath my ribs, then Claire smiles gently and hands me a dish towel anyway.
“Good answer. Dry those.”
The kitchen erupts back into motion. I end up beside Hadley near the sink while she rinses plates and I dry them one at a time. Domesticity should not feel this intimate.
The entire room hums around us—music still playing from the dining room, Holt arguing with Crew about baseball statistics somewhere near the fridge, Bailey chuckling loud enough to shake cabinets—and all I can focus on is standing shoulder to shoulder with Hadley in the warm kitchen light.
Her sweater sleeve brushes my forearm every few seconds. Tiny contact. Still enough to make my pulse uneven.
“You survived,” she says without looking up from the sink.
“Barely.”
“You handled Evelyn’s interrogation well.”
“She scares me, too.”
Hadley snickers, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath.
God, that sound. Every time she cracks up around me, something in my chest loosens unexpectedly.
“You’re good with them,” she says after a moment.
“The kids?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I dry another plate. “I like them.”
“No,” she says softly. “I mean they like you.”
The words catch me off guard because there’s genuine warmth in her voice. As if the fact that her niece and nephew like me matters to her.
Hadley reaches for another plate at the same moment I do, and our hands gently collide. This time, neither of us pulls away.
Water runs in the sink while warmth spreads through my hand beneath hers. The contact is enough to completely alter the air between us.
Hadley’s breath catches, and mine nearly does the same. By instinct, I look down at her and find she’s already looking at me. And suddenly, the rest of the kitchen fades into a blur of noise around the edges.
I could kiss her right now. Not just want to.
Need to.
Something about Hadley standing beside me in this warm, crowded kitchen, with dish soap on her hands and laughter around us, makes the urge almost overwhelming.
Then Holt appears beside the fridge and the moment snaps. Hadley jerks her hand back first, while I step away.
Holt’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as they move between us.
“Beer?” Holt asks me casually.
“Sure.”
He tosses one toward me from the fridge.
I catch it automatically, thankful my hands aren’t soaked like Hadley’s or I’d drop the glass.
Meanwhile, Hadley suddenly becomes extremely interested in rinsing silverware.
Holt leans against the counter beside me, gaze fixed on the kitchen chaos ahead of us instead of directly at me.
“You settling into the marina okay?”
“Yeah.”
“People bothering you yet?”
“Constantly.”
A grin tugs briefly at Holt’s mouth. “Means they like you.”
I glance sideways toward him.
“You all weaponize friendliness around here?”
“Pretty much.”
Silence stretches for another moment.
Then Holt says, “Hadley seems excited about the marina project.”
Every muscle in my body tightens.
“She’s helping a lot.”
“Mm-hmm.”
That damn sound again.
The twin thing between Holt and Hadley suddenly feels a lot less charming from this side of it. I can practically see his mind working as he tries to figure out why the air changes every time Hadley and I stand too close together.
“You heading back tonight?” Holt asks.
“Eventually.”
Another pause.
“You should stay for a bit. We usually hang around the firepit.”
I blink.
“What?”
“Rowan’s starting one outside. Everybody usually hangs around for a while.”
The offer lands unexpectedly like he genuinely wants me there.
Something unfamiliar presses against my ribs again, warm enough to ache. Before I can answer, Hadley turns toward us, holding a stack of clean dishes.
“You staying?” Hadley asks.
The question shouldn’t affect me this much. But something in her voice—hope, maybe—lands directly beneath my sternum.
“Do you want me to?”
Our stares collide. And there it is again—that impossible awareness.
“Yes,” she says.
One word. Still enough to undo me completely.
An hour later, I’m standing beside a firepit behind the farmhouse while spring wind moves through the pecan trees overhead.
The night has settled warm around the farm. Crickets hum steadily through the grass while string lights glow across the back porch. Someone put music on low near the outdoor speakers, old country drifting through the dark while flames crackle gold and orange against the evening air.
The Wright family spreads naturally around the firepit in mismatched chairs and blankets like they’ve done this a thousand times before.
Claire shares a blanket with Mason, while Bailey curls against Crew’s side farther down the row of chairs. Rowan and Ivy occupy the porch swing together, speaking beneath the lights, while Holt tosses sticks for Rook somewhere near the fence line, and Lark giggles next to him.
Hadley sits beside me. Close enough that our knees brush every few seconds.
I stare into the fire longer than necessary because looking directly at her feels increasingly dangerous tonight.
The warmth from the flames paints gold across her skin while the wind lifts strands of her hair around her face.
“You’re quiet,” she says beside me.
“I’m usually quiet.”
“Not like this.”
I glance toward her.
She’s watching me carefully now, curled deeper beneath a knit blanket with one knee tucked beneath her.
The sight does dangerous things to my nervous system.
“What’s this like?” I ask.
The tension in her face eases, her eyes softening as if a gentle warmth has spread through her.
“Like you’re thinking too much.”
I lean back in the Adirondack chair and look toward the dark outline of the trees.
“I’m not good at this.”
“At what?”
I gesture vaguely around us.
“All of it.”
Beside me, Hadley’s body goes rigid.
“You’re doing fine.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
The words come out rougher than intended.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
The fire crackles while laughter drifts from the porch swing where Crew apparently just said something ridiculous enough to make Ivy choke on her drink.
Then Hadley says in a hushed tone, “You don’t have to earn your way into every room you walk into, Nolan.”
No one has ever said something so accurate to me so casually before.
I stare into the flames.
“You always see too much?”
“Usually.”
“That seems exhausting.”
“It is.”
A smile pulls unexpectedly at my mouth.
Finally, Hadley murmurs, “I’m glad you came tonight.”
I look over to find she’s already watching me, and suddenly, the rest of the world fades out around me again. None of it matters as much as the way she’s looking at me right now.
“You make this place hard to stay away from,” I confess, the words tumbling out before I could blink.
Hadley turns toward me beneath the firelight.
“Nolan.”
My gaze drops briefly to her mouth, which is a huge mistake, because suddenly, I can remember exactly how she tastes.
And judging by the way her pulse jumps visibly in her throat—she remembers too.
I lean closer, and Hadley does the same.
One inch. Then another.
And just before my mouth reaches hers, the back screen door slams open.
“HADLEY,” Claire yells cheerfully. “Did you hide the brownies again?”
Hadley jerks backward so fast she nearly drops her blanket.
I close my eyes briefly.
Across the yard, Holt goes very still, watching us from beside Rook.
Whatever is happening between Hadley and me is becoming impossible to hide.