Chapter 11: Madeline
It’s Tuesday and barely 5 a.m. when I wake up, and the house is already alive.
Not in a loud way—just quietly unsettled. A few distant footsteps. The groan of pipes. A short cough and then the unmistakable creak of the upstairs bathroom door closing. Someone got there first.
I pull my hoodie tighter around my body and slide out of bed, rubbing sleep from my eyes as I crack my door open. A dull, warm light spills from the hallway sconce, and I can already hear Finn and Liam bickering in low, groggy voices.
“I literally called it before bed—”
“You did not, I literally—”
“Liam, you can’t just claim the bathroom in your sleep.”
“Well, I dreamt I did, so it counts.”
I smirk and quietly retreat, letting them keep their chaos. Sloane’s in there anyway, and something tells me she’s not the kind of person you rush out of the washroom.
Back in my room, I grab the clothes I laid out last night: a chunky gray knit sweater, a warm sherpa vest, pale-wash denim, and the soft suede clogs I almost didn’t pack. A baseball cap and sunglasses are more for wind and privacy than sun, but I pull them on anyway. We’re not going out on the boats today, Charlie said, but we will be walking the docks, meeting the rest of the team, getting familiar with the setup. First impressions. Light chaos.
I pull my hair into a quick braid and tuck it into the back of the cap. It’s early, and I’m nervous—but mostly I just want to look like I belong. Like I’ve done this before.
Back in the hallway, Finn and Liam are sitting on the floor now, one on either side of the bathroom door like it’s a portal to salvation. Finn is halfway through a story that I think might involve a fish and a frozen sock when Liam turns his head—and freezes.
His eyes land on me and stick there. His mouth opens a little, just a breath, like he wants to say something but forgot how. It’s a blink of a moment, but something flickers in his face—something half-caught between admiration and being completely knocked off balance.
But then he clears his throat and straightens up.
“You, uh… You can go first,” he says quickly, standing like it’s nothing. “I can wait.”
I blink. “Are you sure? You were literally guarding the door.”
He shrugs, but it’s the kind of shrug people give when they’re trying too hard to seem casual. “Ladies first.”
“Wow,” Finn deadpans from the floor. “That’s chivalrous of you, Liam. Especially considering five seconds ago you were threatening to knock me out with a hairbrush.”
I grin and pat Liam’s shoulder as I pass him. “You’re a good man. I’ll be fast.”
The bathroom is still warm from Sloane’s shower, and I can smell her sharp, clean soap in the air. I take a quick rinse with cold water, brush my teeth, swipe on some moisturizer, and pull my hat back down low. When I open the door again, Liam’s still standing there, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He looks like he’s been deep in thought.
“Thanks,” I say softly.
He meets my eyes and nods, but his mouth doesn’t quite move. Like words are suddenly harder to form.
I step around him, and Finn shoots me a wink as he slips in after me. “You’ve saved a man’s life today,” he whispers dramatically.
I smile as I walk down the stairs, my heart thudding faster than it should for how simple the morning’s been.
They’re just people.
And I’m just the new girl.
Right?
By the time I hear the bathroom door shut behind me, I’m already downstairs, shoving a granola bar into the pocket of my vest and double-checking that I remembered lip balm and gloves. Charlie texted me last night that she'd be at the docks early to get things ready. “Just follow the path,” she wrote. “Can’t miss it.”
So I step outside and breathe in the morning air.
It smells like salt and pine and distant woodsmoke—like someone’s already up with a kettle on. The early sun hasn’t warmed anything yet, but the wind is quiet and the sky is sharp blue, and I feel surprisingly okay for someone who barely slept.
I’ve barely made it halfway up the worn stone stairs behind the house when I hear the door creak open behind me again.
“Hey, wait up!”
Finn and Liam appear, jackets half-zipped, boots stomping, each holding a scuffed metal lunchbox like they’re headed to an actual oil rig. Their hair’s still wet from rushed showers, and they both look slightly winded—like maybe they sprinted to catch me.
“You two get ready fast,” I say as I slow my pace to let them catch up.
“We’re not fancy,” Finn says, stretching his arms behind his head. “Also, breakfast is for the weak.”
Liam holds up his lunchbox. “We eat on the boats.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Every morning?”
“Yeah,” Liam says. “Becomes a ritual after a while. Deck’s quiet, birds are louder than us, sometimes the water looks like glass.”
Finn shrugs. “Also, we sleep in our clothes most nights so it cuts prep time.”
“That’s not true,” Liam says.
Finn grins. “It’s mostly true.”
I laugh as we crest the top of the hill and cross the street, the sea already glittering ahead.
“But why so early?” I ask, tugging the sleeves of my sweater down over my palms. “It’s not like the fish punch a clock.”
Finn cuts a glance at me and smirks. “That was almost clever.”
“It was clever,” Liam says loyally.
Finn ignores him. “Water’s calmer in the early hours. Less traffic—merchant boats aren’t running, fishermen aren’t hauling nets yet. We get the quiet.”
Liam adds, “Also, less wind.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ll still blow away,” I say, tightening my vest and pulling my hat lower.
They veer off the main road—not toward the little town square with the coffee shop and grocery, but down a narrower path that slants straight toward the ocean. The air grows louder with every step. The sound of waves crashing—not gently lapping, but slamming into the shore with full conviction—rises around us like a storm rolling in.
And then we round the corner.
And I stop.
The path curves hard to the right just before the sea swallows it whole, and for a breathless second, it feels like the entire town has disappeared behind us and we’ve walked to the edge of the world.
Houses hug the cliff like they’re afraid of falling. Painted blue shutters. Salt-bleached roofs. White stone walls with cracks that look like stories.
And the sea.
Dark blue, sharp white. Furious and alive.
The wind pulls at my sleeves and hair as the spray mists my face. I can taste the salt on my lips.
“Wow,” I breathe, smiling without meaning to.
I glance at Liam and Finn, and both of them are watching me like they forgot they’ve seen this view a thousand times before.
“You never get used to it,” Liam says quietly.
Finn nods. “Yeah. No matter how much crap you deal with out there, coming back to this always feels like something.”
We keep walking, hugging the waterline, our boots crunching on gravel. I don't know where this path ends yet. I don't know what to expect at the docks. But for the first time since arriving, I don’t feel like I’m just visiting someone else’s life.
I feel like maybe, if I tried, this could be mine too.