Page 147 of At First Catch

Hadley turns fully toward me. She doesn’t answer. She simply steps into me.

“Nolan Pierce.”

The softness in her voice makes the moment feel more serious, not less.

I force myself to meet her eyes.

“You are not temporary,” she says again. “And neither is this.”

Emotion hits hard enough that my chest aches. She offers me certainty so freely, even when I’m still learning how to hold it.

Part of me wants to believe her so badly it hurts.

Hadley steps closer and slides her hand into mine.

“I know your brain tells you that people leave,” she murmurs. “But I need you to understand something.”

My fingers tighten around hers. “What?”

“I’m not loving you halfway.”

Every lonely, temporary year of my life collides with the reality of Hadley standing here promising me something steady.

I pull her against me before I can think better of it.

She exhales as my arms close tightly around her while the last of the sunset burns across Back Bay.

For one suspended moment, I only hold her. Like my body has finally found the thing it spent years searching for without knowing what to call it.

Home.

Hadley’s arms slide around my waist. Pressing herself softly against me, she sighs. “You don’t have to earn a place anymore.”

That does it. Something inside me cracks open completely. Because maybe that’s exactly what I’ve done my entire life. Made myself useful. Earned affection. Tried to become valuable enough that people might keep me.

I built businesses because success made me necessary. I solved problems because competent men rarely get discarded.

I never allowed myself to need anyone because need gave people too much power to hurt me.

Hadley loves me before I can prove anything. She loved me when the marina was still half broken.

When I was exhausted and irritable.

When I had nothing to offer except honesty and the parts of myself I’d spent years hiding.

I tilt her chin until her eyes meet mine.

That impossible tenderness waits for me again.

I love this woman so much it physically hurts.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” I admit.

Her eyes soften.

“You loved me, honestly,” she whispers. “That’s it.”

Safe.