Page 204 of At First Catch

That’s the dangerous part.

Fear makes compromise sound responsible.

The office door opens suddenly behind me. I flip the renderings closed instinctively, but it’s too late. Walter Greene catches enough of the glossy proposal pages to stop walking entirely.

The silence afterward feels heavy.

“What’s that?” he asks.

I lean back against the desk, trying to look less guilty than I feel.

“Nothing finalized.”

Wrong answer. I know it from the look on Walter’s face.

He walks farther into the office.

“Pierce.”

Christ. Not the disappointed older-man voice. Anything but that.

I scrub one hand down my jaw roughly.

“It’s exploratory.”

Walter stares at me for one long second.

“You considering selling out the marina?”

The bluntness hits hard because somewhere deep down, part of me already fears that’s exactly what this looks like.

“No.”

The answer comes too fast. Too defensive.

Walter notices.

Without warning, exhaustion crashes through me because I genuinely don’t know where the line exists between saving the marina and changing it into something unrecognizable.

Walter studies me before asking, “What’s really going on?”

The office door opens again before I can answer. Holt steps halfway inside carrying a grease-stained toolbox.

“Forgot this.”

He stops, looks between us, then looks at me again.

“Bad timing?”

Walter snorts.

“Depends.”

Holt studies my face for another second, then says,

“She’s quieter.”

I blink.