Page 57 of At First Catch

Silence stretches for another moment.

Then Holt says, “Hadley seems excited about the marina project.”

Every muscle in my body tightens.

“She’s helping a lot.”

“Mm-hmm.”

That damn sound again.

The twin thing between Holt and Hadley suddenly feels a lot less charming from this side of it. I can practically see his mind working as he tries to figure out why the air changes every time Hadley and I stand too close together.

“You heading back tonight?” Holt asks.

“Eventually.”

Another pause.

“You should stay for a bit. We usually hang around the firepit.”

I blink.

“What?”

“Rowan’s starting one outside. Everybody usually hangs around for a while.”

The offer lands unexpectedly like he genuinely wants me there.

Something unfamiliar presses against my ribs again, warm enough to ache. Before I can answer, Hadley turns toward us, holding a stack of clean dishes.

“You staying?” Hadley asks.

The question shouldn’t affect me this much. But something in her voice—hope, maybe—lands directly beneath my sternum.

“Do you want me to?”

Our stares collide. And there it is again—that impossible awareness.

“Yes,” she says.

One word. Still enough to undo me completely.

An hour later, I’m standing beside a firepit behind the farmhouse while spring wind moves through the pecan trees overhead.

The night has settled warm around the farm. Crickets hum steadily through the grass while string lights glow across the back porch. Someone put music on low near the outdoor speakers, old country drifting through the dark while flames crackle gold and orange against the evening air.

The Wright family spreads naturally around the firepit in mismatched chairs and blankets like they’ve done this a thousand times before.

Claire shares a blanket with Mason, while Bailey curls against Crew’s side farther down the row of chairs. Rowan and Ivy occupy the porch swing together, speaking beneath the lights, while Holt tosses sticks for Rook somewhere near the fence line, and Lark giggles next to him.

Hadley sits beside me. Close enough that our knees brush every few seconds.

I stare into the fire longer than necessary because looking directly at her feels increasingly dangerous tonight.

The warmth from the flames paints gold across her skin while the wind lifts strands of her hair around her face.

“You’re quiet,” she says beside me.