11. Hadley
Chapter Eleven
HADLEY
The second Holt’s truck pulls into the marina lot, every survival instinct I possess activates.
Which is unfortunate.
Five seconds ago, I was standing close enough to Nolan that I could feel the warmth coming off him.
Now Holt’s truck is turning into the parking lot, and I instinctively take half a step away before I even realize I’ve done it.
Or maybe twin-detected-emotional-compromise mode.
Equally dangerous.
Beside me, Nolan goes subtly still in what I’m guessing is a different panic than my own. That calm steadiness in him should not make my pulse soften the way it does, but unfortunately, I’ve reached the point where almost everything Nolan does affects me emotionally now.
Holt climbs out of the truck wearing sunglasses and a faded Coral Bell Cove Fire Department T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders. Rook abandons us to sprint toward him like a furry traitor missile.
“At least someone in this family still loves me,” Holt mutters as the dog launches into him enthusiastically.
I force a casual smile. “Pretty sure the pup belongs to your soon-to-be-wife.”
Holt’s gaze lifts toward me, then his eyes make a beeline for Nolan’s.
Oh no.
That is absolutely the face of a man assembling puzzle pieces internally.
“Morning,” Nolan says evenly.
Holt nods once. “Pierce.”
The marina suddenly feels entirely too warm. Usually Holt and Nolan get along well. Not exactly best friends, but comfortable. Easy. There’s mutual respect there after everything that happened with Lark and the inn.
Today?
Something feels off, and it’s a terrible reminder that my twin has always been very good at watching me.
“You here for inspections?” I ask quickly.
Holt’s eyes narrow behind the sunglasses.
“Dad asked if Nolan had checked the electrical hookups near the fuel dock.”
Translation: he’s absolutely lying.
Holt came because he’s suspicious.
Beside me, Nolan shifts closer. He doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t even look at me. He takes a half step forward until we’re standing shoulder to shoulder. And it feels like being chosen.
This man is going to ruin me.
The silence stretches one second too long, and then Walter Greene appears out of nowhere carrying a biscuit sandwich and detonates the entire situation.
“There’s my favorite marina couple.”
I close my eyes briefly.
Nolan mutters, “Jesus Christ.”
Holt goes completely still.
Walter looks between the three of us, then has the after-though to say, “Oh.”
OH?
OH?
That is all he has to say after emotionally nuking my life before nine in the morning?
“You know,” Walter continues thoughtfully, “I’m realizing maybe I misunderstood some things.”
“Huge fan of this conversation ending,” I say.
Walter ignores me as Holt removes his sunglasses.
And there it is.
Every Wright sibling recognizes that frighteningly placid look without fail.
“Couple?” Holt repeats carefully.
Walter blinks. “You didn’t know?”
Nolan stands straighter, stoic, as I consider throwing myself directly into Back Bay.
Walter finally seems to recognize the emotional apocalypse he’s triggered.
“Hm,” he says.
I hate that sound with every fiber of my being.
Making everything worse, he points vaguely between Nolan and me and asks, “Wait, was this supposed to be secret?”
I inhale deeply through my nose.
Murder remains illegal, unfortunately.
“Holt,” I say carefully, “before you overreact—”
“Overreact?” Holt repeats.
Nolan steps in before I can make this worse.
“Nothing’s happening behind your back.”
The statement is technically true.
Emotionally misleading maybe, but true.
Holt looks directly at Nolan now. And suddenly I’m hyperaware that these are two men who care about me deeply in very different ways, standing ten feet apart on a marina dock while tension crackles between them.
“I’ve been hearing you kissed my sister?” Holt asks flatly.
Nolan doesn’t hesitate.
“Yeah.”
The single word hits hard enough to physically knock the breath from me. Warmth blooms painfully beneath my ribs. Holt looks seconds away from launching Nolan directly into the Atlantic.
“Holt,” I warn.
My brother drags one hand down his jaw while Rook sits beside him, looking deeply invested in the drama.
“This is why you’ve both been acting weird?”
“Probably,” I mutter.
Holt looks at me sharply. “How long?”
His eyes find mine for less than a second. Just long enough to ask a question he never says out loud. I nod almost imperceptibly.
He answers Holt.
“We kissed yesterday,” Nolan says carefully.
Holt studies both of us for several long seconds.
Then he finally replies, “Yesterday.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
Holt points directly at me. “Don’t ‘oh my God’ me. You’re the anti-relationship one.”
Walter backs away, holding his biscuit.
Coward.
The marina suddenly feels too public. Too exposed. Tourists wander nearby completely oblivious while workers carry lumber farther down the western slips.
And in the middle of all of it, my twin brother is realizing I have feelings for Nolan Pierce.
As I look at Nolan, his face subtly changes, shifting in a way that’s hard to pinpoint. Like something clicks into place for him emotionally.
And suddenly I want privacy more desperately than oxygen.
“Holt,” I say more gently this time, “can we not do this in front of literally everyone?”
My brother exhales sharply, but finally nods once.
“Fine, but we are absolutely doing this later.”
Exactly the emotional nightmare I wanted for breakfast.
Beside me, Nolan suddenly laughs under his breath. I turn toward him in disbelief.
“You’re laughing?”
He looks down at me, warmth flickering low in his eyes despite the situation.
“You threatened to throw me into the bay when we first met,” he reminds me. “Guess it runs in the family.”
Before I can stop it, a smile begins to form on my lips.
And unfortunately? Holt notices that too.
Holt leaves the marina twenty minutes later looking only moderately less suspicious than when he arrived.
Which feels more threatening because if my brother had exploded emotionally, at least I would know where we stood.
Calm Holt is terrifying Holt, especially because he’s my twin. Meaning he knows exactly when I’m hiding something emotionally. And unfortunately for me, I’ve become spectacularly bad at hiding Nolan lately.
The second Holt’s truck slips down the road, I exhale dramatically, leaning both hands against the marina railing.
“Well,” I mutter, “that could’ve gone worse.”
Beside me, Nolan rests his forearms against the dock beside mine.
“You think?”
“He didn’t hit you.”
“That was our benchmark?”
“With Wright men? Absolutely.”
A chuckle escapes him. The sound slides warm and low through my chest the way it always does now.
The marina hums steadily around us while morning sunlight flashes bright across Back Bay. Tourists drift between slips carrying coffee cups while workers continue repairs farther down the western dock.
Despite the chaos around us, the space beside Nolan still feels strangely private.
“You okay?” he asks.
The question catches me off guard as concern laces through his words.
I glance toward him.
“You just got interrogated by my brother, and you’re checking on me?”
One corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re the one who looked panicked.”
I stare out across the water because eye contact feels catastrophic at this moment.
“You don’t have to worry about Holt,” I say carefully.
Nolan stays quiet beside me long enough that I glance back over. He’s already watching me with that same focused warmth that keeps unraveling me one layer at a time.
“I’m not worried about Holt,” he says.
I forget whatever I was about to say. Completely. Nobody has ever answered that question with me instead of themselves.
“Then what are you worried about?”
“You getting scared.”
I laugh weakly. “That obvious?”
“To me? Yeah.”
The breeze lifts strands of hair across my cheek, and before I can move them, Nolan reaches over.
His fingers brush along my temple while he tucks the strands behind my ear again.
The contact melts every nerve ending in my body.
He does it so naturally now. No hesitation.
No uncertainty. As if reaching for me has already become instinct.
My heart physically aches.
“Nolan,” I whisper.
His hand lingers briefly against my jaw, then drops.
“I know this is a lot,” he says.
The understatement nearly makes me laugh.
A lot?
I kissed him yesterday, and now my entire future suddenly feels unstable in the best possible way.
“A little,” I admit.
Nolan studies me carefully for another moment before stepping closer. The warmth of him envelops me.
“You know what I think?” he asks.
I shake my head once.
“I think you’ve spent so much time taking care of everybody else that the idea of somebody showing up for you feels uncomfortable.”
The words take me by surprise, and I physically stop breathing for a second. No one—absolutely no one—has ever said something so painfully accurate to me before.
I stare at him helplessly, understanding why this feels different from every other relationship I’ve ever had.
My throat closes. I search for something sarcastic to say. Anything. Nothing comes.
“Nolan.”
His eyes soften.
And as if on instinct, my hand shoots out toward him. My fingers curl lightly around his wrist while the marina moves around us in warm sunlight.
I don’t even remember reaching for him. My hand is simply there. Wrapped around his wrist. Like my body decided before my brain caught up.
Nolan glances down at my hand briefly, then back to my face.
“How are you real?” A tiny gasp escapes my lips before I can clamp my hand over my mouth.
A surprised laugh escapes him.
“Pretty sure I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Before either of us can say anything else, Miguel appears farther down the dock carrying electrical wiring. He takes one look at us standing too close together, then turns around.
“Nope,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m respecting workplace boundaries.”
My cheeks burn, and a faint tremor runs through my hands as Nolan laughs next to me.
The sound vibrates warm and rough through the air between us.