Page 9 of At First Catch

Too much damage. Too much money. Too much work.

I see possibilities.

That probably says concerning things about me as a person.

The truck crunches to a stop near the old bait shop, and for a moment, I just sit there with one hand resting on the steering wheel, looking out across the water while the engine ticks beneath me.

The marina should feel overwhelming.

Objectively, it is overwhelming.

I finalized the sale of my construction company, Pierce Construction, less than seventy-two hours ago. Spent six straight hours in conference rooms pretending I didn’t feel like I was watching someone dismantle the last decade of my life piece by piece. Drove three hours afterward with enough coffee in my bloodstream to qualify as a medical concern.

Then I walked into Sweet Gum Café this morning and promptly forgot how oxygen worked.

So.

Excellent start overall.

I scrub one hand down my face and lean my head briefly against the seat. Hadley Wright is going to ruin my life. The realization arrives with alarming calm. Not because she’s reckless. Hadley feels like the opposite of reckless, honestly. Warm and bright and deeply rooted in a way I’ve never managed to be. She remembers people’s coffee orders. Notices when someone feels left out in a room. Carries entire conversations when others get uncomfortable.

She belongs to this town in a way that doesn’t have to be announced. It’s there in the way everyone greets her by name. The way Mrs. Pace trusts her with the morning rush. The way Bailey finishes her sentences without thinking. Even the café seemed to breathe easier when she smiled. Some people spend their whole lives looking for a place that fits them. Hadley wears this town like it was tailored specifically for her.

And six months ago, after one night that still lives in my head with humiliating clarity, she left before sunrise like staying had never even crossed her mind.

I remember waking to cold sheets and an empty bed. After lying there longer than I care to admit, I wonder why the hell it bothered me so much.

It should’ve blurred together by now. One long night stitched together with smoke, adrenaline, and too much bourbon.

It hasn’t.

A knock against my truck window startles me out of my thoughts.

I glance over to find a gray-haired man in a faded windbreaker standing beside the driver’s side door holding two paper cups of coffee.

I lower the window.

“You planning on going inside the place or sleeping in the parking lot?” he asks.

A reluctant smile pulls at my mouth. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“Fair enough.”

He hands me one of the coffees before extending his free hand. “Walter Greene.”

“Nolan Pierce.”

“I know who you are.” Walter nods toward the marina. “Whole town does by now.”

Of course, they do.

Coral Bell Cove runs on coffee, gossip, and weather updates.

Walter settles against the side of the truck like we’ve known each other for years instead of thirty seconds. “My brother used to keep his charter boat here before the hurricane. I was good friends with the previous owner too.” Walter smiles to himself. “Friday afternoons, you couldn’t find a parking space.”

I glance toward the nearly empty lot.

“Really?”