Page 197 of At First Catch

As I stood barefoot in Nolan’s kitchen on Saturday morning, watching him concentrate on the stove, it all gently came to me.

Sunlight pours gold through the windows overlooking Back Bay while gulls drift lazily above the docks below. The storm damage from earlier in the week already looks less severe in daylight—repair crews moving steadily across the western slips, tourists wandering the marina again like life naturally reassembles itself after chaos.

I wish relationships worked that way.

Nolan glances over his shoulder while flipping pancakes.

“Why are you staring at me like I personally offended your breakfast?” he asks lightly.

Warmth flickers instinctively beneath my ribs.

“I’m thinking,” I answer.

“That’s usually concerning.”

I move toward him until my arms slide around his waist from behind.

Nolan stills, then exhales. Like touch still calms him before anything else does.

His hand settles automatically over mine just as a sudden wave of grief flickers unexpectedly through my chest.

“You okay?” Nolan asks.

I rest my cheek lightly against his back.

“Yeah.”

The answer sounds more believable today. Not because everything’s fixed, but because we finally said the hard things out loud. The silence between us no longer feels confusing.

Nolan flips the burner off before turning in my arms. The exhaustion in his face still hasn’t fully faded. Dark circles beneath his eyes. Tension lingers around his mouth. The slight stiffness in his shoulders from overworking himself all week.

He’s running on determination and caffeine and fear. And still trying to love me well through it all.

My fingers slide lightly along his jaw.

“You need sleep.”

One corner of his mouth lifts.

“You sound like Lark,” he says of his best friend and my soon-to-be sister-in-law.

“That should scare you.”

“It does.”

A small laugh escapes me despite everything.

Nolan studies my face for a moment afterward.

“I’m sorry about this week.”

The gentle caress of his voice nearly shatters me because he means it. Every word.

“I know.”

His eyes search mine carefully.

“No, Hads.” Emotion roughens his voice. “I mean it.”