12. Nolan
Chapter Twelve
NOLAN
Taking Hadley Wright on a date turns out to be significantly more nerve-racking than buying a hurricane-damaged marina.
That knowledge follows me while we move through downtown Coral Bell Cove together.
The whole town glows beneath the warm spring evening—restaurant patios crowded with locals and tourists, music drifting from open bars near the boardwalk, laughter spilling into the streets beneath hanging lantern lights.
Everything feels alive tonight—maybe because Hadley’s beside me.
Hadley’s fingers tighten lightly around mine as we pass the bakery, and I glance down.
She’s smiling at something ahead, and the sight hits me directly in the chest. Beautiful doesn’t cover it anymore. It feels too shallow for what Hadley actually is.
She squeezes my hand once as we cross Main Street. Doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t seem to realize she did it. I tighten my fingers around hers before I can think better of it.
“You’re staring again,” she says lightly without looking at me.
I blink. “How do you know?”
“Because I can feel your eyes on me.”
The quiet intimacy in that answer nearly undoes me, and I want more than my eyes on her.
One corner of her mouth lifts as she finally glances over. I’m genuinely fighting the urge to drag her into the nearest alley and kiss her stupid.
Instead, I say, “You’re distracting.”
Hadley laughs.
That impossible warmth spreads through my chest every time I hear that sound.
I guide her carefully around a crowded sidewalk corner, my hand settling instinctively on her lower back for half a second.
The restaurant sits near the far end of Main Street overlooking Back Bay, tucked behind a line of weathered dunes and glowing beneath strands of white lights.
Hadley slows slightly when she sees it.
“Oh.”
She slows, looks up at the restaurant, and smiles. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until that moment.
The restaurant itself is small and coastal elegant without trying too hard—open-air deck, soft live music drifting from somewhere near the bar, and candlelight flickering across white tablecloths while the bay stretches dark and endless beyond the railings.
It’s nestled on the rear of the Needle Palm Resort.
“You like it?” I ask.
In that suspended moment, Hadley looking up at me makes the whole world disappear.
“I really like it,” she says.
My chest tightens, then gets worse because she adds, “You remembered my favorite place.”
I shrug.
“You remember everybody else’s favorites.”
The words leave my mouth before I realize what they reveal.
She mentioned it once. Months ago. While balancing a shutter on one shoulder and arguing with Walter about paint colors. I honestly thought everyone remembered details like that.
Before I can respond, the hostess brightens.
“Well, finally.”
Hadley closes her eyes briefly.
I stare at the hostess. “Excuse me?”
The woman grins shamelessly. “The town’s been waiting for this date for at least a week.”
Jesus Christ.
Hadley mutters, “I’m moving.”
The hostess ignores her.
“Your table’s ready, Marina Man.”
I stop walking.
Hadley physically folds forward, laughing.
“Absolutely not,” I say.
The hostess looks delighted by my suffering. “Too late.”
I glance toward Hadley, who’s laughing hard enough that tears gather at the corners of her eyes, and suddenly, I don’t care about the nickname anymore.
God, I’d do almost anything to keep hearing that sound.
The hostess wisely departs before the emotional tension becomes visible from space, leaving Hadley and me standing too close together in soft candlelight.
“You okay?” she asks gently.
No. Not even remotely, because I think I’m actively falling in love with you in the middle of a seafood restaurant lobby.
Instead, I say, “You’re beautiful when you laugh.”
“Nolan,” she whispers.
She leans closer, and for one reckless second, I almost meet her halfway. Instead, I settle back in my chair.
“Hmm?” I let out a soft, rumbling chuckle.
“I don’t want us pretending.”
She blinks.
“I keep thinking...”
She looks down.
“If we do this...”
My eyes meet hers.
“I want it to be because we’re done pretending last night didn’t happen.”
I push out of my chair before I can think better of it.
Hadley’s eyes follow me as I close the small distance between us, then a server carrying oysters walks directly between us, yelling, “Hot pan!”
Reality crashes back, and Hadley gasps while I close my eyes briefly.
“This town is obsessed with interrupting me.”
“That’s because the universe knows you’re dangerous.”
The tenderness in her eyes as she speaks those words nearly undoes me. God help me, this woman is becoming my favorite thing.
Somewhere between the bookstore kiss and her laughing at me in the restaurant lobby, my feelings crossed directly into uncharted territory without asking permission first.
The hostess seats us on the outer deck overlooking Back Bay where soft lanterns glow against the railings and waves move dark and slow beneath the moonlight.
Hadley looks entirely too good sitting across from me in lantern light.
Thankfully, the server appears before I can do anything stupid, and we order.
The second he leaves, Hadley leans forward across the table.
“You really remembered this place.”
I shrug carefully even though the truth is I’ve been paying terrifyingly close attention to everything she says for months now.
“You mentioned it once.”
“Nolan.” Her voice becomes a gentle whisper. “That was ages ago.”
I glance toward the water briefly because eye contact suddenly feels dangerous again.
“Still mattered.”
The breeze moves gently through the deck while candlelight flickers gold across her skin. Music drifts from somewhere near the bar, low enough that the whole world feels slower.
Hadley studies me from across the table.
“You know what’s weird?”
“Probably a lot of things.”
A smile tugs briefly at her mouth. “You don’t actually seem as emotional as Lark described.”
I lean back in my chair. “That’s because you never met me before you.”
“What changed?” she asks.
You.
Instead, I glance down at the table for one brief second before admitting, “I got tired of feeling alone all the time.”
Her eyes hold mine steadily. She doesn’t answer right away. She reaches across the table, turns my water glass a quarter turn for no reason, then finally looks back at me.
“Nolan.”
The softness in her voice nearly breaks me. I exhale and look out toward the bay before I completely lose composure in the middle of dinner.
“You know what the worst part is?” I ask.
“What?”
“I didn’t realize how lonely I was until your family started making room for me.”
The words don’t drift away on the ocean breeze like I’d been hoping. Instead, they settle between us.
Hadley’s fingers curl tighter around her wineglass. “You already belong there.”
I laugh under my breath.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
Claire texted this morning asking whether I was coming by Sunday. She didn’t ask if. She asked what time.
The server arrives with appetizers before I can spiral deeper into that emotional disaster.
Hadley tells me stories about growing up in Coral Bell Cove: accidentally sinking the golf cart, Crew breaking into the theater after curfew at sixteen, Holt jumping off the marina roof into Back Bay on a dare during a storm.
“That explains so much actually,” I mutter.
Hadley grins over her wineglass. “The Wright siblings are deeply chaotic.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.”
“You haven’t even seen Thanksgiving yet.”
The horrifying sincerity in her voice makes me laugh unexpectedly.
Like a flash of lightning, I realize that this is the easiest date I’ve ever been on. There’s no performance. No trying to impress each other. Just a comfort between two people who enjoy each other’s company.
At one point, she reaches across the table absentmindedly to steal one of my asparagus stems. Even though it’s casual, it’s still enough to send warmth through my chest so quickly it almost hurts.
The restaurant noise fades around the edges again while candlelight flickers between us, and warm ocean wind moves through the deck.
Everything narrows down to Hadley looking at me like I’ve just allowed her to handle something fragile.
Dessert arrives. Neither of us touches it for several minutes because we’re still talking. At some point, the restaurant starts stacking chairs inside. Neither of us notices until the server asks if we’d like another coffee.
It’s the conversation, the innocent flirting, the way she reaches for my food like it’s instinct now, the soft little smile she gives me every time she catches me staring.
All of it.
Forever starts feeling like a frighteningly reasonable idea somewhere between dessert and her telling me childhood stories about Holt accidentally setting a dock rope on fire with bottle rockets.
The restaurant empties around us as live music drifts more through the warm night air. Most of the tourists have disappeared toward the boardwalk now, leaving the deck quieter beneath glowing lanterns and moonlight reflecting across Back Bay.
Hadley leans against the railing beside me after we step outside. The breeze catches her dress, brushing it against her legs. The dangerous thing now is that the attraction no longer feels separate from everything else.
I catch myself wondering if she’d like this place in October. Then Christmas. Then next summer. It seems my brain has become alarmingly optimistic.
Moonlight catches against her hair while restaurant lights glow faintly in the distance behind her.
“What?” she asks.
I shake my head once, but the movement feels weak even to me.
“You ever realize something and wish your brain had kept it private for a little longer?” I ask.
Her brows lift.
“That sounds ominous.”
I lean back against the railing beside her and look out toward the bay before I say something reckless like I think I’m falling hopelessly in love with you after a couple of days of marina flirting and an emotionally devastating bookstore kiss.
The breeze moves between us, then Hadley nudges my shoulder lightly with hers.
“You know,” she says, “you don’t always have to carry every thought alone.”
Before I can brace myself properly, she reaches for my hand. Her fingers lace carefully through mine while moonlight spills silver across the water behind her.
“You know what I think?” she asks.
“What?”
“I think you’ve spent most of your life expecting people to leave.”
The breath leaves my lungs.
I stare at our joined hands for one suspended second.
“Usually they do.”
Hadley’s grip tightens, and the look in her eyes afterward nearly breaks something open inside me.
“I don’t think I want to,” she whispers.
Everything fades except those six words.
“Hadley,” I say roughly, knowing that I’m silently asking her why she left me in the first place.
She steps closer, rises on the tips of her toes, and kisses me. Her hands slide up my chest while she presses close enough that warmth floods every inch of me.
I kiss her back harder. Every kiss with Hadley feels like finally breathing after years underwater.
She makes a soft sound against my mouth and my entire body reacts violently to it. Need crashes through me hard enough to blur the edges of rational thought.
My hand slides carefully to her waist, pulling her flush against me while the bay wind moves around us in warm, restless waves.
The way she melts into me as if she belongs there nearly destroys my remaining self-control.
The kiss deepens. Hungrier. Days, weeks, months of tension finally unraveling piece by piece beneath moonlight and salt air.
Hadley’s fingers slide into my hair, and I swear my heart physically stutters. No one has ever touched me like this before.
I break the kiss first only because I genuinely need oxygen. For one suspended second, neither of us moves.
Hadley’s forehead rests lightly against my shoulder while both of us breathe unevenly in the warm night air.
Hadley laughs against my mouth. “You’re doing the staring thing again.”
I smile helplessly despite myself.
“Can you blame me?”
Her cheeks flush in the moonlight as she tilts her face toward mine.
“Nolan?”
The softness in her voice pulls my attention fully back to her.
“What?”
Hadley studies me carefully for one suspended second before asking, “What happens now?”
The question hangs between us.
What happens now that this is real? Now that neither of us is pretending anymore?
I look at her, standing beneath the moonlight with swollen lips and warm, hopeful eyes, and realize the answer comes easier than anything else ever has.
“Now,” I say, brushing my thumb gently along her jaw, “I take you home before I forget how to behave in public.”
Hadley bursts into startled laughter. And just like that, the tension eases enough for me to breathe again.
Barely.
I walk her to the truck and open her door. She smiles up at me, then reaches back for my hand one more time before climbing in. I don’t let go until I have to.