Page 34 of At First Catch

Still, some ugly, honest part of me had wanted to wake up and find her there. Maybe barefoot in the kitchen and stealing my coffee. Maybe smiling at me in daylight like the night before hadn’t just been adrenaline and fear and bad timing.

Instead, there’d only been silence.

I had spent weeks afterward convincing myself it didn’t matter. Then I walked into Sweet Gum Café this morning and forgot every lie I’d told myself.

Tires crunching over gravel pull me from my thoughts. I glance toward shore. Walter Greene climbs out of an old truck carrying a paper bag and a flashlight.

“You still here?” he calls.

“Seems that way.”

“That doesn’t mean you gotta haunt it.”

“I’m not haunting it.”

Walter ambles down the dock with the confidence of a man who has never hurried for anyone in his life. “You’re standing alone staring awfully hard at dark water. That’s at least mild haunting.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Good idea.”

He hands me the paper bag once he reaches me. “My wife sent food.”

I glance inside and peer at the plastic-wrapped dish.

Ham biscuits. And by the heat kissing my face as I open the bag, they’re still warm.

Something tightens unexpectedly beneath my ribs.

“She doesn’t know me.”

Walter snorts. “Folks around here don’t need to know you to feed you.”

That burger Holt gave me is on my mind. Mrs. Pace insisting on coffee. Hadley showing up with permits she could’ve emailed.

Apparently, feeding people isn’t the only way this town takes care of you.

I take the bag carefully. “Tell her thank you.”

“Tell her yourself tomorrow when she comes by to inspect you.”

I blink. “Inspect me?”

“Sure. You bought a community landmark. Now everybody’s emotionally invested.”

“That sounds threatening.”

“That’s because it is.”

A sudden, uncontrollable chuckle escapes my lips, surprising even myself.

Walter grins like he’s part of some inner joke. “There it is. Thought maybe you were physically incapable.”

“Careful. I’m trying to maintain a mysterious reputation.”

Walter leans against the railing beside me and looks out over the water. “You really think you can bring this place back?”

I follow his gaze toward the marina. The worn slips. The faded signs. The weathered buildings waiting stubbornly against the shoreline.