22. Nolan #2
Partnership. Except nothing about this feels like partnership. It feels like surrender dressed in better shoes.
My phone buzzes again. I don’t look this time. And that feels like failing her in real time.
Richard leans forward, lowering his voice.
“Nolan, passion got you this far, but it won’t stabilize infrastructure. It won’t offset insurance delays. It won’t protect you from storm exposure.”
Fear crawls cold up my spine.
Everything I rebuilt could disappear. Everything I promised this town could disappear.
I swallow against the tightness in my throat.
“I’m not agreeing to anything tonight.”
Richard leans back.
“You misunderstand me, Nolan. I’m not worried about whether you agree tonight.”
Something about his tone makes me still.
“I’m worried about what happens six months from now when another storm hits, insurance stalls, and your operating reserve perishes.”
His gaze moves briefly toward the rain-streaked windows.
“Waterfront property doesn’t stay unwanted simply because the current owner is sentimental about it.”
My jaw tightens.
“Is that supposed to be a threat?”
Richard smiles.
“It’s supposed to be market reality.”
But the devilish look in his eyes says he knows I’m cornered. And God help me, maybe I am.
My phone buzzes again.
I finally glance down.
Hadley
You eat yet?
A laugh almost breaks out of me. It catches somewhere in my chest instead. Always caring for me first. Even while I’m emotionally drowning myself in silence.
Me
Not yet. You?
Hadley
Bailey made me eat soup.
I picture her at the bookstore, probably standing near the front windows staring toward the marina through the rain-streaked glass.
Worrying. Because of me.
Richard’s voice pulls me back.
“We’ve also included an emergency infrastructure advance in this revision. It could be available within seventy-two hours.”
My attention snaps up.
Seventy-two hours.
Enough to repair the west dock.
Enough to reinforce the slips.
Enough to breathe.
The temptation hits ugly and immediate. Fear makes compromise sound reasonable.
Thunder cracks overhead, and the restaurant lights flicker once. Twice. Then die.
The entire room plunges into darkness before emergency lighting glows red along the walls.
Someone curses near the door.
My phone lights in my hand.
Not Hadley this time, but Miguel.
Miguel
Power out at marina. West dock taking water. We need hands.
I stand so fast my chair scrapes hard against the floor.
Richard looks up sharply.
“Nolan?”
“I have to go.”
His mouth tightens. “This offer expires soon.”
I shove the proposal folder under one arm.
“Then I guess it’ll have to wait.”
I’m already moving toward the door when my phone buzzes again.
Hadley
Are you okay?
For one second, I stop in the hallway, rain slamming against the windows beside me.
I want to answer honestly.
I want to say no.
I want to tell her I’m scared and cornered and so tired of pretending I know how to keep everything safe.
Instead, another message from Miguel flashes across the top of the screen.
Miguel
Cable’s straining. Hurry.
I type fast. Too fast.
Me
Yeah. Just busy.
The second I send it, I know it’s wrong because it’s exactly the kind of answer that keeps putting distance between us.
I shove the phone into my pocket and run into the storm anyway.
By midnight, I’m soaked through, exhausted, and one snapped dock cable away from losing my mind completely.
Rain crashes sideways across the marina while emergency floodlights cast harsh white reflections over violently shifting black water. Wind tears across Back Bay hard enough to rattle the dock pilings while workers shout over the storm, securing boats and reinforcing the western slips.
Chaos. Absolute chaos. Yet my brain still keeps drifting toward Hadley.
“PIERCE!”
I turn sharply.
Miguel points toward the outer dock where one of the charter boats slams hard against the slip restraints again.
“Cable’s giving!”
“Got it!”
I shove through rainwater toward the western edge of the marina while adrenaline and exhaustion blur together painfully beneath my skin.
The storm isn’t technically hurricane-level. But it’s close enough to remind everyone exactly why this place remains financially fragile.
One bad season.
One catastrophic storm.
Everything I rebuilt could disappear.
And suddenly the investor meeting replays in my head all over again.
Security.
Expansion.
Storm reinforcement funding.
Seventy-two hours.
The temptation feels uglier tonight.
I grab the dock line, helping Miguel secure the boat while freezing rain lashes against my face.
And underneath all the chaos, one terrible thought keeps repeating: What if loving this place isn’t enough to save it?
My phone buzzes violently in my jacket pocket. I ignore it automatically.
Another worker shouts from the fuel dock. Then another cable snaps somewhere farther down the marina.
Jesus Christ.
Everything feels one step from disaster tonight.
Hours blur together after that.
My hands go numb sometime after one thirty. I stop feeling the sting of rain against my face. Stop registering the ache in my shoulders from hauling lines and bracing against wind.
But I never stop feeling the panic. It sits beneath my ribs like a second heartbeat.
I can’t lose this place.
Not now.
Not after rebuilding it.
Not after finally understanding what home feels like.
Not after Hadley.
By the time the storm finally begins weakening sometime after three in the morning, my entire body aches from tension and cold.
The marina survived.
Barely.
But standing knee-deep in seawater beside damaged western dock railings, I suddenly understand something terrible. The investors were right about one thing. I can’t protect this place forever on passion alone.
My phone buzzes again. This time, I finally pull it out. Five missed texts. All from Hadley.
Warmth crashes painfully through my chest.
Even in the middle of all this, she’s still thinking about me first.
Hadley
Please tell me you’re okay.
Hadley
Nolan.
Hadley
I know you’re busy, but please answer me when you can.
Hadley
I love you.
Hadley
I’m awake if you need me.
The breath leaves my lungs hard. That impossible tenderness she keeps offering me without hesitation.
Suddenly exhaustion crashes over me so heavily I physically lean against the nearest dock post.
I love you.
I’m awake if you need me.
Nobody has ever stayed awake worrying about me before.
Miguel walks past carrying soaked equipment before stopping beside me.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You gonna go home?”
Miguel stares at me another second.
“You sleeping at all?”
“Occasionally.”
“Intentionally?”
I shrug.
“It’s been hit or miss.”
He snorts.
“Mostly miss.”
“Mostly.”
He points toward my truck.
“Go see your girl before she starts organizing a search party.”
A tired laugh slips out.
“She’d absolutely bring snacks.”
“She’d absolutely bring Bailey.”
I wince.
“That’s the more terrifying part.”
“I need to check the north slips first,” I say automatically.
Miguel stares at me like he’s specifically exhausted by my personality.
“Pierce.”
I glance over.
“You’re bleeding.”
I blink once.
Then, finally, I notice blood mixing with rainwater across my knuckles, where the dock cable tore skin open earlier.
“Not bad,” I mutter.
Miguel looks profoundly unimpressed.
“You know there are easier ways to self-destruct, right?”
The truth hits me anyway while rain slows around us. I am pushing too hard. Not because I don’t trust people but because I’m terrified of failing them.
I stare out across the battered marina while storm clouds finally begin drifting east over Back Bay.
This place matters to me too much now.
My phone buzzes again.
Hadley
I’m serious. Come find me when this is over.
Emotion surges painfully through my chest.
I text back before I can talk myself out of it.
Me
I’m okay. Cut my hand. Storm’s easing. I’m sorry I didn’t answer sooner.
The three dots appear.
Disappear.
Reappear.
Hadley
Thank God.
Two words. That’s all. Still enough to knock the air from my chest.
I stare at the screen while rain drips from my hair onto the cracked glass protector.
Hadley
Come home when you can.
Home.
A word that used to feel theoretical, now is wrapped around her voice.
My chest tightens painfully.
Miguel watches me from a few feet away.
“You gonna keep bleeding, or are you going?”
I laugh once under my breath.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m going.”
But as I walk back across the soaked docks toward the marina office, the investor folder still sits lead-loaded in my truck.
The storm has passed.
The marina survived.
Hadley continues to wait.
And instead of relief, fear sinks heavier beneath my ribs than before. Now I know exactly how close everything came to breaking tonight.
One formidable truth settles fully into place beneath the fading storm.
If I lose Hadley trying to save the marina, none of this will feel worth it anymore.