Page 117 of At First Catch

And there it is.

The part I’m still not quite ready to believe. The speed does not scare me nearly as much as the ease of it. Nolan fits into my life without forcing himself into any part of it. He shows up, notices what needs doing, and makes room for me to do the same.

There is no performance with him. No pressure to keep every conversation light or smooth over every difficult moment before anyone else has to feel uncomfortable. When he asks whether I am okay, he waits long enough to hear the real answer.

I have spent years making myself useful to everyone I love. Nolan is the first person who seems determined to make sure I am cared for too.

“Does he make you happy?” Bailey asks.

The answer arrives before fear can interfere.

“Yes.”

The word comes out quieter than I expect, but it fills the kitchen anyway.

I brace my hands against the counter and look through the window toward the narrow road that eventually leads to the marina.

Bailey doesn’t answer right away. She watches me with that quiet look she gets when she’s trying to decide whether to tease me or tell me something I probably don’t want to hear.

“You’ve been taking care of everybody for as long as I’ve known you,” she says.

I blink.

“That’s dramatic.”

“Is it?”

I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.

Bailey shrugs one shoulder. “Your parents need help? You’re already there. One of your brothers calls? You drop everything. Somebody forgets a birthday, a casserole, a permission slip, a volunteer signup...” She smiles. “Half the time you’ve already fixed it before anyone realizes there was a problem.”

“That’s just what families do.”

A warm tenderness spread across Bailey’s features.

“Maybe.”

She reaches across the counter and squeezes my hand.

“But who’s doing that for you, Had?”

“He makes me feel like I can stop being the easy one for a while. Like I don’t have to keep everything moving just so no one notices when I’m tired.”

Bailey does not interrupt.

“He sees me,” I continue, my throat tightening around the admission. “And when he does, I don’t feel exposed. I feel…” I search for a word large enough to hold everything Nolan has become in such a short time. “Chosen.”

The quiet behind me dissolves.

“He feels permanent,” I admit.

Saying it aloud terrifies me, mostly because I want it so much that the wanting has already begun to ache.

Bailey’s voice turns gentle. “He might be.”

Before I can decide whether that thought is comforting or catastrophic, headlights sweep across the front windows.

My pulse reacts before I see the truck.