Page 190 of At First Catch

Outside the windows, Back Bay glows pale silver beneath lingering storm clouds while repair crews already move across the western docks below. The marina looks exhausted this morning.

So does Nolan. He finally came upstairs around three thirty.

Soaked.

Bleeding knuckles.

Barely coherent with exhaustion.

And still the first thing he did was apologize for worrying me.

The apartment door opens behind me. I glance over instinctively and there he is. Barefoot, tired, and still wearing yesterday’s marina shirt.

Warmth spreads through my chest the second our eyes meet. The hardness in Nolan’s expression melts away the moment he sees me standing there.

“Hey,” he says.

My chest tightens. He sounds exhausted all the way through.

“Hey.”

He moves toward the coffee pot automatically before stopping when he notices the mug waiting beside the stove.

Cold.

Untouched.

His body jerks as it hits him.

“Hads.”

I stare out the window toward the marina because suddenly eye contact feels dangerous.

“It’s okay. You fell asleep downstairs again.”

“I know.”

The quiet guilt in his voice twists painfully beneath my ribs. I know he’s trying. That’s the thing threatening to break me lately: he’s genuinely trying.

But we’re still hurting each other anyway.

Nolan steps closer. Carefully. As if he already senses how fragile the atmosphere between us feels this morning.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says.

My eyes drift toward the dining table behind him.

Legal pads cover nearly every inch of the surface, columns of numbers filling page after page in Nolan’s neat handwriting. His laptop sits open beside them, spreadsheets replacing whatever sleep he should’ve gotten last night. A contractor estimate peeks out from beneath one of the folders, highlighted and covered in handwritten notes.

I don’t know exactly what he’s working on. I only know he isn’t sleeping.

“I know.”

I understand him too well to stay properly angry, but understanding doesn’t erase loneliness.

Nolan studies me carefully from across the kitchen.

“You’re upset.”