8. Hadley
Chapter Eight
HADLEY
Ido not sleep well after almost kissing Nolan Pierce beside a firepit while my entire family sat twenty feet away.
This feels important to establish.
Because technically nothing happened.
No kiss. No touching. No scandalous declarations beneath the stars.
Just Nolan leaning toward me enough that every nerve ending in my body woke up at once before my mother interrupted us to ask about brownies.
Which makes it worse.
And now my brain has decided to replay the moment on an endless loop all night long like it personally hates me.
By seven thirty the following morning, I’ve already made coffee, forgotten to drink the coffee, stared at my phone six separate times, considered driving to the marina, talked myself out of driving to the marina, put on mascara for no reason, then took it back off out of principle.
Outside my cottage window, Otter Creek Farm wakes beneath soft spring sunlight. Wind moves through the pecan trees, while the distant hum of tractors drifts from the fields. The whole farm carries that peaceful early morning quiet before everyone fully starts moving.
Usually, I love mornings here, but today, my stomach feels like it’s hosting a cage match.
I keep thinking about Nolan’s face right before he almost kissed me.
The way his eyes dropped to my mouth. The way his voice roughened when he said, “You make this place hard to stay away from.” The way the entire world narrowed down to one suspended breath between us.
And worst of all?
I know he would’ve kissed me if Mom hadn’t interrupted.
Every time I close my eyes, he’s there again. Close enough that I can still remember the warmth of his breath.
My phone buzzes against the kitchen counter, and every cell in my body lights up.
Pathetic.
I snatch the phone too quickly and pretend Rook didn’t just witness that.
It’s Bailey, which leaves me both disappointed and relieved.
Bailey
Emergency.
Me
Define emergency.
Bailey
Ivy and I are coming over with coffee.
I blink.
Me
I already have coffee.
Bailey
You can’t ever have enough coffee.
Oh no.
Absolutely not.
Me
Don’t.
Bailey
Too late.
The screen door slams outside less than thirty seconds later. I stare toward the front door in horror.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Do either of them believe in warning people?”
Rook’s tail starts wagging enthusiastically. Of course, he’s excited. He thrives on chaos.
The front door swings open without knocking because apparently privacy is a myth among my friends and family.
Bailey enters first, carrying a cardboard coffee tray. Ivy follows in oversized sunglasses and chic linen pants despite the fact that no paparazzi have ever appeared at Otter Creek Farm.
“You left your door unlocked again,” Bailey announces.
“Because I live on family property.”
“That’s how murder documentaries start.”
Ivy removes her sunglasses dramatically. “Honestly, Bailey’s watched three episodes of Dateline, and now she thinks she’s law enforcement.”
“I’m vigilant.”
“You’re nosy.”
“Both can be true.”
The two of them move naturally through my kitchen while I lean against the counter, trying not to look guilty about anything.
Unfortunately for me, Bailey notices everything.
She narrows her eyes. “Why do you look emotionally unstable?”
Damn it.
“I don’t.”
“You do,” Ivy agrees while accepting a cup from Bailey. “You’ve got the face.”
“The face?”
“The one where you’re pretending nothing happened but internally screaming.”
I hate how accurate that is.
“I’m not internally screaming.”
Bailey hands me an iced coffee. “So you and Nolan definitely almost kissed last night.”
I nearly inhale air wrong.
“How do you know that?”
The two of them exchange a look before Bailey studies me for another second. She watches me under her shrewd gaze I’ve come to know after all these years. She doesn’t say anything at first.
Then Ivy says carefully, “We have eyes. And Rowan said Holt got weirdly quiet after the firepit.”
Oh no.
No, no, no.
Bailey climbs onto one of my counter stools. “Also because Nolan looked at you during dinner like he wanted to physically fight gravity to get closer to you.”
A flush floods my face.
“He did not.”
Bailey stares at me. I sigh dramatically. “Okay, maybe a little.”
“A little?” Ivy repeats. “Hadley, at one point that man forgot an entire conversation because you touched his arm.”
My stomach flips hard enough to hurt.
Bailey studies me over the rim of her cup. “So what exactly is happening there?”
I open my mouth, then close it again. The coffee Bailey brought me has already gone cold. I’ve been holding the cup this whole conversation without taking another sip.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Love sneaks up in this family.
A terrifying thought suddenly hits me.
“What if Holt figures it out?”
Bailey visibly winces.
Ivy mutters, “Yeah, okay, that part’s rough.”
Wonderful.
Exactly the reassurance I was hoping for.
“He’ll calm down eventually,” Bailey offers weakly.
“That is not comforting.”
The Wright brothers are emotionally exhausting. And Holt being my twin makes this worse because he notices things about me before I say them out loud half the time.
Which means last night? There’s no way he missed all of it.
My phone buzzes against the counter, and all three of us look down. The screen lights with Nolan’s name as the kitchen goes silent. Bailey makes a sound that can only be described as emotionally invested screaming.
I hate everyone.
I pick up the phone.
Nolan
Morning.
One word. Still enough to completely wreck my nervous system. I can physically feel Bailey vibrating beside me.
Ivy mouths, “Oh my god.”
I type carefully.
Me
Morning.
Three dots appear.
Disappear.
Reappear.
Nolan
You survived your family.
My mouth curves before I can stop it.
Me
Barely.
Nolan
Same.
Something warm unfolds beneath my ribs, and I know exactly what he means.
Bailey grabs my forearm suddenly.
“What did he say?”
“I hate both of you.”
“Read it out loud.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I turn away from them, as if that protects my privacy while texting in the middle of my kitchen, surrounded by emotional vultures.
Nolan
Your mother threatened to send leftovers to the marina.
Me
That’s how she traps people.
Nolan
I’m beginning to understand that.
The smile spreading across my face feels impossible to control now.
And apparently impossible to hide.
Because Bailey points dramatically. “There. That face. She’s gone.”
“I am not gone.”
“You’re practically writing his last name in cursive.”
I choke on air as Ivy dissolves into titters beside her.
“This is awful,” I inform them.
“No,” Bailey says cheerfully. “This is romance.”
That should make me panic. Instead, my pulse flutters harder.
Bailey and Ivy stay another hour.
Eventually, Bailey leaves for the bookstore while Ivy heads back toward Rowan’s place to work on revisions for her next song. Before she goes, though, she pauses near my front door and studies me carefully.
“You know he looks at you the same way Rowan looked at me before either of us admitted what was happening, right?”
My pulse stumbles unevenly.
“Ivy.”
“I’m serious.”
The wrinkles between her brows fall away. “You don’t have to run from this one.”
That’s exactly what I’ve been doing since the morning I slipped out of Nolan’s bed before sunrise. Running before something could become real enough to hurt me.
The problem now? It already matters. Enough that the thought of Nolan deciding he’s done trying feels physically painful.
After they leave, I spend twenty full minutes pretending I’m going to answer emails before finally giving up and driving into town. It seems I’m incapable of staying away from the marina for longer than half a day.
I miss my turn into the employee lot and have to circle back around. Which is embarrassing considering I’ve driven this road since I was sixteen.
“Get it together,” I mutter.
And then I see him.
Nolan stands near the fuel dock speaking with two contractors while wind moves through dark hair that already looks disheveled despite it barely being noon.
His sunglasses rest on top of his head today.
The sight of his eyes fully unobstructed from this distance should not affect me this much.
He glances toward the parking lot at the exact moment I pull in, like he sensed I was arriving.
The second he sees my SUV, his posture subtly changes.
I climb out while trying very hard not to appear eager. This fails because Nolan is already walking toward me before I fully close the door.
“I didn’t expect to see you.”
The words are so low and rough that they send a shiver of heat down my spine.
I cross my arms loosely. “I’m technically working.”
“Mm.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I think you’re trying to convince yourself.”
The marina breeze lifts strands of hair across my cheek again, and for one suspended second I swear Nolan almost reaches for me before stopping himself. His hand lifts. Stops halfway. Drops again. That almost touch stays with me longer than if he’d actually brushed my cheek.
“You busy?” I ask.
His gaze stays fixed on me.
“Depends.”
“On?”
“What you want.”
Neither of us appears interested in making good decisions.
“I brought the revised permit packet,” I say carefully, lifting the folder in my hands.
Nolan’s mouth curves. “That sounds disappointingly professional.”
My lips part in a soft, involuntary laugh.
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll buy you lunch.”
I blink.
“That sounded suspiciously date-like.”
“Did it?”
“Yes.”
Nolan steps closer. Close enough that every nerve ending in my body wakes up anyway.
“Maybe I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to take you on one. Besides...” His shoulders lift in an easy shrug. “If we’re going to scandalize your hometown...” He smirks. “We should at least get sandwiches out of it.”
My brain supplies approximately zero useful thoughts. Which feels like a problem considering I usually have seventeen.
“Nolan.”
His eyes stay locked on mine.
“You keep looking surprised every time this gets harder,” he says. “I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.”
I swallow hard because he’s right. Part of me still expects this to disappear.