10. Nolan #2
Outside the office windows, dock lights glow gold against the bay while distant laughter drifts from tourists wandering the boardwalk farther down Main Street.
I suddenly don’t want to sit in this office alone anymore.
I want Hadley on the docks beside me.
Hadley stealing fries at lunch.
Hadley looking at me like she did after I kissed her.
My phone buzzes again.
Hadley
I hope you’re pleased with yourself.
A chuckle bubbled out of me without any warning.
Me
Immensely.
Hadley
That’s obnoxious.
Me
You started it.
Hadley
I absolutely did not.
Me
Pretty sure you admitted wanting me to kiss you first.
My thumb floats over the screen as it goes black.
Hadley
Okay, but in my defense, you were looking at me very intensely.
I laugh.
God. I love this version of us already.
The easy honesty. The teasing layered over something deeper. No pretending anymore. Feels dangerously like the beginning of something permanent.
I stare out toward the marina again, thinking about permanence. About how foreign that word used to feel. Growing up, permanence belonged to other people. Families who stayed. Homes that lasted longer than a school year. People who unpacked boxes without wondering when they’d need them again.
I learned young not to build futures around things that could disappear. And now Hadley Wright has walked straight through every defense I’ve spent thirty-six years perfecting.
The terrifying part is I’m not sure I want those defenses back.
My phone lights again before I can spiral further.
Hadley
You got quiet.
Me
Thinking.
Hadley
Dangerous hobby.
Me
You make it worse.
Another pause.
Hadley
Nolan.
Just my name again.
Soft even through text.
I lean forward, elbows on the desk, phone loose in my hand, while the marina lights shimmer beyond the windows.
Me
What?
Long silence.
Hadley
Today felt important.
The honesty in those four words nearly devastates me.
Me
It did to me too.
Three dots appear.
Hadley
Good.
I smile.
Me
That’s all I get?
Hadley
Don’t get greedy, Pierce.
Me
Little late for that.
God help me. I’m gone for her already.
Completely.
This should freak me out more. Instead it feels strangely inevitable.
Like every lonely road in my life led directly here: to a marina on Back Bay. To a loud, intrusive family. To a dark-haired woman who leaves coffee on my desk and looks at me like I belong somewhere
My chest tightens painfully.
Before I can think too hard about that, I type out another message.
Me
You busy tomorrow night?
Three dots appear.
Hadley
Depends.
Me
On?
I blow out a breath as I wait for her response.
Hadley
What you want.
The warmth that spreads through me this time feels different.
Deeper.
Not excitement exactly.
Hope.
Real enough to ache.
I lean back in the chair again, looking out across Sweetspire Marina while the warm night wind rattles against the office windows.
Me
A real date this time.
Silence.
My pulse kicks hard once against my ribs while I wait.
Hadley
Okay.
That one word changes everything.
Now I can picture it too clearly—taking her out openly and walking beside her through town, holding her hand where people can see.
Not hiding. Not pretending. Not almost.
Mine.
The thought hits hard enough to steal my breath for a second.
And somewhere in the middle of a half-restored marina glowing against Back Bay, I realize I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
I wake up Saturday morning already thinking about Hadley, which would probably feel less alarming if it wasn’t immediate.
The second consciousness returns, my brain supplies the feel of her mouth against mine, the warmth of her hand on my chest, and the soft breathless laugh she made afterward in Bailey’s bookstore.
I stare up at the ceiling of the small rental cottage near the marina and scrub one hand over my face.
I’m so shocked that I’m motionless for several seconds. I’m happy in a way I haven’t been since I was a teenager.
Outside the cottage windows, early sunlight spills across Back Bay in soft gold streaks while gulls cry somewhere near the docks.
The marina itself has already started waking for the day—engines humming faintly in the distance, dock lines creaking against pilings, the muted sound of workers arriving.
Usually, mornings mean strategy. Planning. Problem-solving. Work.
Now the first sensible thing is: Hadley agreed to a date.
A real date.
Not stolen moments. Not lingering almost kisses. Not accidental proximity while pretending professionalism.
Just as the thought settles, panic follows. What exactly constitutes a date in Coral Bell Cove when the entire town already watches us like bird-watchers?
The answer, apparently, is absolutely nothing private.
I discover this less than twenty minutes later when I step outside carrying coffee and find Walter Greene sitting in a folding chair near the marina entrance at eight o’clock.
“Morning,” he says.
I stop walking.
“Why are you here?”
Walter sips coffee calmly. “Retired.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“Hm.”
I genuinely may ban that sound from the marina. Walter studies me over the rim of his cup before casually asking, “You taking Hadley somewhere nice tonight?”
My entire body goes still.
“What?”
“Mrs. Henderson said you finally kissed her.”
I nearly drop the coffee.
“No, she did not.”
“She did.”
“How would she even know that?”
Walter shrugs. “This town notices things.”
Jesus Christ.
I close my eyes briefly. The horrifying part is that I know he is one hundred percent correct. The thought lingers heavily in my chest while Walter watches me struggle through a full emotional crisis.
“You seriously like her, huh?” he asks eventually.
I laugh once under my breath. Denying it feels pointless now.
“Yeah,” I admit.
Walter nods once like he already knew.
“Good.”
“That’s it?”
“What else you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Threaten me? Clean a shotgun dramatically?”
Walter snorts. “Mason and Claire Wright already have that handled emotionally.”
Fair.
I head toward the docks afterward, trying very hard not to linger upon the fact that the entire town seems emotionally invested in my relationship status now.
Unfortunately, thinking about Hadley has become unavoidable. Everything reminds me of her. The western slips where she first walked with me in the marina. The fuel dock where she laughed about the marina man nickname. The office where her coffee cups keep appearing like emotional support gifts.
I unlock the office and stop short.
There’s another sticky note on my desk.
You forgot breakfast again, didn’t you?
Check the mini fridge.
—H
Warmth spreads through my chest so suddenly it almost hurts. I open the fridge.
Inside, the cold space holds fruit, yogurt, a wrapped breakfast sandwich, and iced coffee.
I stare at it for several long seconds. I don’t unwrap the sandwich. I just stand there.
Eventually, Walter walks past the office. He takes one look at me and keeps walking. Apparently, whatever expression is on my face explains everything.
The office suddenly feels too small.
I grab the breakfast sandwich and step back outside before my thoughts get any more dangerous.
Unfortunately, the universe makes them worse. Hadley is walking down the dock toward me.
My entire body reacts.
Sunlight catches her hair in waves of mahogany while the marina wind moves through the oversized Coral Bell Cove sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. She’s carrying paperwork against her chest, and sunglasses rest on top of her head today, leaving her eyes fully visible.
Big mistake for my self-control.
The second she sees me, her shoulders drop away from her ears, and the corners of her eyes wrinkle, like seeing me is her favorite part of the morning, too.
She slows as she reaches me, and suddenly, we’re just standing there in the warm morning light, looking at each other like two people who kissed yesterday and can’t quite believe how much it changed things.
“Morning,” she says.
“Morning.”
Her eyes flick briefly toward the breakfast sandwich in my hand, then back to me.
“You actually ate.”
My first instinct is to thank her.
The second is to ask if she remembered to eat too.
“I’m adaptable.”
A smile pulls at her mouth.
The sight nearly ruins me before nine o’clock.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d find the note.”
“I’m deeply resourceful.”
“Mm.”
I point at her. “You’re not allowed to make that sound now, too.”
She laughs.
And there it is again: that impossible warmth spreading through my chest every time I pull that sound from her.
God help me, I want this all the time.
Hadley steps closer then.
“You busy?” she asks.
“Trying to be.”
“That sounds unsuccessful.”
“You’re distracting.”
A crimson flush creeps up her neck, painting her cheeks before vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
Good.
At least I’m not suffering alone.
The marina moves around us steadily while workers carry lumber farther down the western dock and tourists wander near the bait shop.
But the space around Hadley and me feels strangely separate from all of it as if the entire world shrank after yesterday’s kiss and forgot to expand again.
Her fingers brush lightly against mine when she hands me the permit paperwork. A shiver traces its way down my spine, leaving goose bumps in its wake as my fingers brush against his.
Neither of us pulls away, and I can’t help but notice when Hadley’s breath catches. I clear my throat roughly and step back before I do something reckless in front of the entire marina.
She steps back. I miss the closeness. The clarity hits so fast it almost knocks the breath out of me.
Holt’s truck turns into the parking lot, and everything changes. Hadley freezes beside me, and my pulse kicks hard once with adrenaline and anxiety.
Because, judging by the narrowing of Holt Wright’s eyes the second he spots us standing too close together, our time before this becomes everybody’s business may officially be running out.