Page 13 of At First Catch

Holt crumples his empty wrapper and looks around.

“Well, good news. The place hasn’t collapsed in the past two hours.”

“Promising start.”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

For a minute, neither of us says anything.

The breeze moves steadily across the marina, warm enough now to carry hints of approaching summer beneath the salt air.

Finally, Holt says, “You’re really doing this?”

I glance around at the docks. The broken railings. The faded signs. The weathered buildings. Then back toward the open water stretching endlessly beyond the slips.

“Yeah,” I say.

A gentle warmth spreads across Holt’s face, softening his features.

“Good,” he says.

And again, unexpectedly, the word lands somewhere deep in my rib cage.

Holt doesn’t move to leave right away.

“You know,” he says, looking out across the empty slips, “most people around here think you’re rebuilding docks.”

I glance over. “Yeah?”

“They’re wrong.”

“What am I rebuilding?”

He shrugs. “A piece of town everybody’s been missing.”

The words settle between us.

I stare back out at the water. “I hope I don’t screw it up.”

Holt looks at me for a long second before bumping my shoulder. “Same.”

“That’s your entire motivational speech?”

“Pretty much.”

I snicker despite myself. “You’re terrible at this.”

“Maybe.” He grins. “But you laughed.”

Chapter Three

NOLAN

By late afternoon, the marina comes to life again. Not fully. Not the way I imagine it will someday with packed slips, music drifting over the water, and tourists crowding the docks carrying paper baskets of fried shrimp and earning sunburns they’ll regret later.

But enough.

Enough that I can almost see it.