Page 158 of At First Catch

I rest my cheek lightly between his shoulder blades, breathing him in while morning sunlight fills the cottage around us.

“Good morning. You know what Bailey said yesterday?” I ask.

Nolan groans. “That sentence never ends well.”

“She said we already act like we’ve been married for ten years.”

“That’s concerning.”

“Deeply.”

But neither of us sounds upset about it, which honestly feels even more dismaying.

Nolan plates breakfast a minute later while I pour coffee, both of us moving around each other naturally in the tiny kitchen without speaking much.

The intimacy of that almost destroys me more than kissing does sometimes. Just existing together easily. I could do this forever.

Nolan watches me carefully over his coffee mug.

“What?”

I blink once. “What do you mean what?”

“You’re staring at me like you’re plotting.”

Rude. Accurate, but rude.

I smile helplessly down at my coffee.

“It’s nothing.”

“Hads.”

The softness in his voice melts every defense I possess. This man saying my nickname like it means something sacred should honestly be regulated.

I glance back up.

“I think I’m getting used to you,” I admit.

Nolan goes completely still.

The silence afterward stretches just long enough for nervousness to flicker low in my stomach.

He sets his coffee down carefully.

And the look on his face? Pure overwhelming hope.

“Yeah?” he asks softly.

The vulnerability in the single word cracks my chest wide open.

Because Nolan still sounds stunned every time he realizes I plan on staying too.

A single nod from me seems to unlock a floodgate of emotion in his face, so intense that I gasp, unable to take a breath.

Then Nolan says, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you.”

And just like that, my entire morning becomes emotionally compromised.