Chapter 102: Madeline
After talking with Charlie, everything in me feels a little… lighter.
Not normal—God knows I don’t remember what normal even feels like—but lighter.
We went back home to eat, to rest for a while, then later she made me go for a walk through town. Said it was to “remind me where I am.”
“Northhaven isn’t the city,” she told me as we passed the lighthouse, its beam sweeping through the fog like a heartbeat. “It’s calm. Quiet. A little creepy when the fog rolls in, sure, but safe. You’re safe here.”
Safe.
That word hit so deep it almost hurt.
I smiled, nodded, even though part of me wanted to cry again. Because she was right. This wasn’t the city. No one followed you here. No one waited behind doors or in parking lots. People smiled, waved, minded their own business.
Charlie was good to me—too good—and I don’t think she knows how much that means.
When we got back, we made dinner together, something simple and warm. By the time the food hit the table, Finn and Liam were finally crawling out of their hangover graves, complaining like they were survivors of a war.
Halfway through cleaning up, Charlie’s phone buzzed. She glanced down, frowned a little, then said, “Reid says they’re not coming on the boat tomorrow.”
Finn groaned, dramatic as always. “They’re probably still mad we got drunk.”
Liam threw his arm over his face. “If they were mad, they would've made us go out today.”
I looked at Charlie. “You think they're mad?”
She laughed. “No, they don’t care if people drink or whatever. If anything, they’d have made the boys do extra work just to mess with them.”
I smiled a little at that, thinking it sounded exactly like something Reid would do—cold, efficient payback for sheer idiocy. But I wondered if maybe it was because of me that they wouldn't come. Because of how I acted.
Then my phone buzzed on the table. I glanced at it, read the message, and grinned.
“Oh my God, something so cool is happening outside!”
Finn groaned louder. “If it’s a sunset, I’m boycotting sunsets.”
“Go represent us, Quinn,” Liam muttered, waving weakly. “Tell nature we’re proud.”
“Fine, lazy people,” I said, grabbing my jacket.
The moment I stepped outside, cool air hit my face. The sun was low, purple bleeding through the mountains, the sea glowing dull blue below. Somewhere in the distance, gulls cried, their voices stretching thin over the cliffs.
After everything—after telling Charlie the truth, after hearing her promise that I was safe here—I believed it.
This was Northhaven.
Calm, quiet Northhaven.
And even with the night closing in, and the light fading fast, I didn’t mind being out here alone.
I start running.
The second I check my phone again, my heart jumps—my window’s short. Barely an hour, according to the app.
The beach is too far, and the dock might still have people cleaning up or locking things down. I need somewhere closer. Somewhere I can see it clearly, where it’ll feel like it’s just me and the water.
Then it hits me—the rocky stretch near the diner. Not exactly a beach, more like a tumble of black stone that dips right into the water. Slippery, uneven, maybe a little dangerous if you’re not careful. Perfect.
I grin, already turning down the narrow street, my boots thudding against the wet pavement. The air’s cool, sharp, the kind that bites your lungs in the best way.
I pick up the pace, my braid bouncing against my back. I probably look ridiculous, sprinting through the quiet streets of Northhaven in my jacket and leggings, grinning like an idiot.
But I can’t help it.
After everything—the heaviness, the panic, the nights that felt like they’d never end—right now I feel… free.
Just an hour. That’s all I’ve got.
I take the corner by the diner too fast—too focused on the screen, on the countdown ticking away—and slam face-first into a wall.
The impact knocks me flat on my back, air leaving my lungs in a sharp gasp. My phone clatters beside me, the screen lighting up the wet pavement. I groan, rubbing my forehead. “Ow—what the—” I squint at the spot I just hit and mutter to myself. “I swear that wall wasn’t there yesterday.”
A voice answers. Low. Rough. Familiar enough to send a jolt through me.
“No, it wasn’t.”
My head snaps up.
Two tall shadows stand over me—broad, solid, impossibly still. Even mostly hidden in the darkness, I’d know them anywhere.
Reid.
Jake.
Before I can scramble up, they each reach down, a strong hand curling around one of my elbows, pulling me gently but firmly to my feet.
My brain’s short-circuiting, trying to catch up, trying to breathe. Their closeness is dizzying—their height, the quiet heat rolling off both of them. The air between us feels too small, too charged. Especially after yesterday.
I look up, still dazed, and the words tumble out before I can stop them.
“Well… um—” I manage a weak laugh, still rubbing my forehead. “You make a very good wall.”
They both smirk. The kind of shared, wordless look that makes my pulse jump.
It’s too dark to see much of their faces, but I know it was Reid I hit. He hasn’t said another word, but somehow I just… know. The way he’s standing. The weight of his silence. I could pick it out even in total darkness.
Jake folds his arms, voice lighter. “Why are you running?”
Right. Running. My heart lurches as I remember why I’m even out here.
“Oh my God—” I grab my phone, look at the time, and gasp. “I have to go!”
They both take a step forward at once, but I’m already rambling, words spilling out too fast. “I’m sorry for bumping into you, I didn’t see you there, I’ll—uh—I’ll see you tomorrow! Or—not tomorrow, since you’re not working—but whenever! I mean—”
I’m already walking backwards, tripping over my own feet.
Reid’s voice cuts through the air, low and sharp. “Madeline—wait. Why are you even out here? It’s dark.”
I grin nervously, still moving. “That’s the point!”
And before either of them can say another word, I turn and run again—down the foggy street, toward the rocks and the sea, their shadows still burned behind my eyes.