Chapter 135: Madeline
We start walking in silence. The night air is cool now, sharp against my skin, carrying the sound of the sea in the distance. I don’t know where to look—at the road ahead, at the ground, at them. The quiet feels heavier with every step.
After a minute, I blurt, “You didn’t have to come with me. I feel bad for taking you away from your party.” My voice sounds small, nervous. “The house isn’t even ten minutes away. I’ll be fine.”
Neither of them says anything at first. Then both of them glance at me—identical raised eyebrows that somehow say absolutely not.
Jake, walking a step behind me, presses his hand gently against the small of my back. It’s not forceful, just… steady. Firm enough that it makes my breath hitch.
“Keep going,” he says, quiet but certain.
So I do.
I can feel both of them behind me—two tall, silent shadows. The sound of their boots on the pavement. The weight of their presence. I don’t even know how to move naturally under their eyes anymore.
Because… I kissed Reid.
Or he kissed me. Or both.
Either way—his hands, his mouth, his body pressed to mine.
And an hour before that? Jake. Sitting at the bar, laughing with me, buying me a drink. Turning down a woman who looked like she could ruin lives. Looking at me like I was the only one in the room.
And now they’re here. Both of them.
A wave of guilt hits me so hard it stops me in my tracks. I turn around, my throat tight. “I…” I start, but it comes out all tangled. “I just—this isn’t fair to you. To either of you. I didn’t mean for any of this to—”
The words start to spiral. Rambling. Broken. The same way they always do when I’m overwhelmed.
Jake steps forward before I can get another word out.
He wraps an arm around me, pulling me against his chest so fast I gasp. His hold is strong—unshakable—but it’s not rough. He just keeps me there, pressed against his warmth, my cheek against his shirt, until the wild thoughts in my head start to slow down.
And god, it’s him. The smell of him, the solid heat of him, the low rhythm of his breathing—it’s all too much. I can’t tell if it’s calming me down or setting me on fire all over again.
“You’re not doing anything wrong in our book,” he says above my head, his voice quiet and low and unreasonably gentle for how big he is. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. When you’ve rested, we’ll talk, if you want. But don’t feel guilty, okay?”
I nod against his chest. Just a small nod. Because if I open my mouth, I’ll cry.
After a moment, he lets me go—slowly, like he doesn’t really want to.
I look over at Reid, bracing for… I don’t even know. Anger. Jealousy. Coldness. But he’s just watching me—and there’s something like a smile on his face. Not mocking. Not smug. Just soft. Like he understands.
My stomach flips. I don’t understand any of this.
“Keep walking, Trouble,” Reid says, voice low but kind.
So I do.
The sound of their footsteps follows me all the way down the quiet road—steady, patient, protective—and for the first time in a little bit, I don’t feel scared. Just completely, utterly undone.
We turn the corner onto my street, and I’m still lost in my head when I see something move near one of the trash bins up ahead.
A shape. Big. Four legs.
My heart melts instantly.
“Oh, hello little guy,” I say softly, stepping toward it before I even think.
I barely take a step when Jake’s hand shoots out, wrapping firmly around my arm and pulling me back a few paces. It’s not rough, but it’s fast—urgent.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, startled.
“Don’t go closer,” he says, his voice suddenly all steel.
I frown. “Why? It’s just a—”
Then I turn my head back toward the streetlight, where the animal has stepped a little more into the glow.
And it’s not a dog.
Its ears are longer, its body leaner, its tail low and bushy. Its eyes catch the light like amber glass.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “That’s not a dog.”
Reid starts walking towards it slowly, his expression calm, deliberate. “It’s a coyote,” he says, voice low but certain.
I blink, trying to process that. I’ve never seen one before. It’s bigger than I expected—beautiful, wild, but so out of place here, standing in the middle of my quiet street.
“Reid—wait,” I start, but Jake keeps an arm around me, holding me back just enough that I can’t move forward.
Reid doesn’t stop. He takes another slow step toward the animal, his movements measured, controlled. For a moment, it feels like they’re studying each other—the coyote and him—like two creatures testing who’s more dominant.
Then, as if it decides it’s not worth it, the coyote turns and trots off toward the woods, disappearing into the dark.
My heart’s still hammering when I look back at him. “How did you do that?”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Coyotes aren’t usually aggressive,” he says. “They’ll hold their ground a bit, but they’ll run if you look imposing enough.”
Jake’s hand is still warm against my arm as he adds, “But you were about to walk behind it. If it thought you were sneaking up, it could’ve bitten you.”
“Oh,” I say, cheeks heating. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
Reid shakes his head. “Not your fault. You’re not from here.”
I look between them, still staring down the dark road where the animal vanished. “I didn’t believe anyone when they said there were coyotes—and wolves—and bears here.”
They both chuckle softly, the sound low and rumbling in the quiet night.
“There are,” Reid says. “Usually at night.”
“And more on warm days,” Jake adds, finally letting go of my arm.
I swallow, looking down the street toward my house. “Great,” I mumble. “So basically I’m living in a wildlife documentary.”
Jake smirks, walking a few steps ahead of me now. “Don’t worry. You’ve got two apex predators walking you home.”
Reid snorts behind me, and I can’t help but laugh—soft, breathless, the last of the tension breaking apart in the cool night air.