21. Hadley
Chapter Twenty-One
HADLEY
The first real crack appears on a Tuesday night. Small enough that most people probably wouldn’t notice it at all. But I know Nolan now. And loving someone means eventually learning the difference between quiet and hiding.
I sit cross-legged on the couch in the marina apartment, waiting for him to come upstairs, letting my thoughts run wild.
Again.
Rain rattles against the windows overlooking Back Bay while dock lights shimmer gold across the dark water below. The apartment smells like takeout growing cold on the coffee table and Nolan’s cologne lingering faintly from this morning.
Ten thirty.
Too late.
Especially considering he texted Be upstairs in 20, over an hour ago.
My stomach twists uneasily. Not because I think he’s avoiding me intentionally. Because lately, he sinks into stress rather than share it.
And every time it happens, I can feel him slipping emotionally just a little farther away before pulling himself back again.
Down below, voices drift faintly across the marina before a truck engine starts near the western slips, then finally—footsteps on the exterior stairs.
Relief loosens through me.
The apartment door opens a second later. Nolan steps inside, carrying paperwork and tension, as if both weighed the same, while rainwater darkens the shoulders of his marina jacket.
And guilt flickers through me for being upset at all. Because he looks worn down in ways he tries very hard to hide.
His eyes find mine.
“Hey,” he says.
Warmth spreads through my chest despite everything.
“Hey.”
Nolan drops paperwork onto the kitchen counter before scrubbing one hand across his jaw.
“You ate?” he asks.
“I waited.”
His eyes close briefly.
Guilt hits me hard because apparently even that upsets him now.
“Hads.”
“I know,” I say. “You got stuck working.”
This is becoming a pattern. Longer hours. Distracted silences. Phone calls he takes outside.
Nothing suspicious. Just… distance.
Nolan loosens his jacket while rain taps harder against the marina windows.
“I’m sorry.”
As his sincere words wash over me, the tight knot in my chest begins to loosen, leaving a quiet ache behind.
I stand from the couch and move toward him. The instinct to comfort him before addressing my own hurt is at the forefront.
I don’t even consider it anymore. My first instinct is always to make sure everyone else is okay before I ask myself the same question.
At some point, it transitioned from feeling like a kind gesture to an ingrained habit.
Bailey asked me once who was taking care of me.
I laughed. Standing here now, watching the exhaustion etched into every line of Nolan’s face, I’m not sure I ever answered her.
“You okay?” I ask.
Nolan’s gaze drifts upward, meeting mine with a deliberate slowness. I see exhaustion deep enough to crack straight through his carefully controlled composure.
“I’m fine.”
The lie lands heavily between us.
For a second, I almost let him.
Almost smile.
Almost pretend everything feels normal because making other people comfortable has always come more naturally to me than asking them to sit inside my hurt.
But if I do that now...
We’ll both keep pretending.
I step closer anyway, fingers brushing lightly against the front of his rain-damp shirt.
“You don’t have to do that with me.”
His brows pull together.
“Do what?”
“Pretend you’re not overwhelmed.”
Nolan looks at me carefully enough that my stomach tightens.
“I’m handling it.”
Distance disguised as reassurance.
Fear flickers low beneath my ribs for the very first time since we fell in love. What if this is what Nolan does when life gets hard? What if his instinct will always be to withdraw, protect, and carry everything alone?
The thought terrifies me more than I want to admit.
I force myself to stay calm.
“What’s happening with the investors?”
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
“Nothing I can’t manage.”
Not an answer.
Nolan notices the change on my face, then he exhales toward the ceiling.
“Hads.”
His gentle words sent shivers down my spine, my knees weakening with every syllable.
“I’m not trying to shut you out,” he says carefully.
The way he phrases it tells me everything. Somewhere deep down, Nolan already knows that’s exactly what this feels like.
“Then let me in.”
The words come out softer than intended. The look on his face afterward nearly breaks me, as if he doesn’t know how.
Nolan steps closer until his hands settle warm against my waist. But tonight even his touch feels tired.
“You know what scares me?” he asks.
I shake my head once.
His eyes search mine for one suspended second before he finally admits, “I finally have something worth losing.”
“The marina?”
His gaze comes back to mine.
“All of it.”
Something in my chest pulls tight.
“I spent years building Pierce Construction, and I learned exactly how quickly something you’ve built can stop feeling like yours when someone else gets enough leverage over it.” His hands tighten at my waist. “I told myself I wouldn’t do that again.”
“But you need the financing.”
His jaw shifts.
“I need more than I wanted to need.”
And there it is.
Not just the overworking. Or the calls he takes outside. Or the way his phone has practically become another appendage.
Fear.
“And me?” I ask.
His eyes meet mine.
“You’re the part that scares me most.”
The apartment goes completely still after Nolan says it.
Rain taps steadily against the windows overlooking Back Bay while marina lights blur gold against the dark water outside.
And suddenly, every small shift I’ve noticed over the past two weeks rearranges itself into something clearer.
The overworking.
The exhaustion.
The emotional distance.
Not withdrawal from me.
Fear for me.
Of losing the marina.
Of needing someone else to save it.
Of needing me.
For this.
For everything we’ve built together.
His hands remain warm against my waist while he watches me carefully, like he’s waiting for this confession to scare me too.
This man still expects vulnerability to cost him people.
The thought breaks my heart a little more every time I realize it.
“You think I don’t see what you’re doing,” I declare.
Nolan’s brows pull together.
“Hads—”
“You get scared, and instead of leaning on people, you start trying to carry everything yourself.”
Nolan looks away first. It hurts more than if he argued.
Rain rattles harder against the marina windows while tension settles low and heavy through the apartment.
Finally, he says, “I’m trying to protect it.”
“Protect what?”
His jaw tightens.
“The marina?”
Nothing.
“Me?”
His eyes finally meet mine.
“Us.”
The word lands between us.
“I’m trying to protect us.”
“By shutting me out?”
“By making sure I don’t lose this before I’ve even figured out how to keep it.”
My anger dissolves around the edges, but it doesn’t disappear.
“Nolan, you don’t protect a relationship by deciding for both people how much they can handle.”
He flinches.
“You let me decide what I’m willing to risk.”
“And if it’s too much?”
“Then we figure that out together.”
His gaze drops between us.
“I’m not very good at together.”
I step closer.
“Maybe stop trying to be good at it before you’ve even practiced.”
For one suspended second, I think he’s going to retreat again.
Deflect.
Minimize.
Tell me everything’s fine.
Instead, his hands tighten against my waist.
“I mean,” he says, “I spent most of my life surviving by depending on absolutely nobody.” His voice roughens. “Now suddenly there’s a town and a marina and you, and if I fail…” He exhales sharply. “I don’t know how to survive losing all of it.”
I stare up at the man I love, looking more emotionally exposed than I’ve seen him in weeks, and I understand something alarming. Nolan genuinely believes loving deeply is dangerous because loss feels inevitable to him.
I slide both hands up his chest until they rest against his jaw. Warm skin. Faint scruff. Tension everywhere.
“Nolan.”
In a flash, his eyes were back on me. That openness he only gives me when he’s scared enough to stop pretending.
“You are not failing,” I say.
A humorless laugh slips from him.
“Hads, I’m getting pressure from every direction right now.”
I study him carefully.
“How bad is it?”
Nolan hesitates.
It reminds me he still instinctively keeps pain compartmentalized away from everyone else.
“It’s complicated,” he says finally.
Fear flickers low in my stomach this time. Not because I think he’ll leave. Because I’m suddenly realizing loving Nolan may mean constantly fighting his instinct to isolate himself when things get hard.
I stumble back a step before I can catch myself. Nolan notices.
Pain flashes across his face so quickly it nearly steals my breath.
“Hads.”
I hate that sound—the worried version of my name. Now we’re both standing here afraid of hurting each other.
“I don’t know how to help you if you shut me out,” I admit.
I know how to show up for people.
Coffee.
Paperwork.
Last-minute favors.
Finding solutions before anyone has to ask.
But standing here...watching the man I love hurt while refusing to let me stand beside him...I’ve never felt so completely helpless.
The truth is, I’m so busy trying to figure out how to reach him that I haven’t stopped to admit what this is doing to me.
Loving Nolan was never supposed to feel like standing outside a locked door.
And maybe that’s what scares me most. Not that he’ll stop loving me, but that I’ll disappear trying to make sure he never has to carry anything alone.
Nolan stares at me like the words physically hit him somewhere vulnerable.
“I don’t know how to let somebody carry things with me.”
He says it as if he’s admitting a failure rather than asking for grace.
My heart breaks all over again.
Neither do I. Maybe we’ve both spent our lives believing love means giving everything away before anyone has the chance to ask for it.
I move closer again until my forehead rests lightly against his chest.
“You know what I think?” I whisper.
His hands slide instinctively along my back.
“What?”