Chapter 211: Madeline
We’ve got maybe twenty minutes before lab time, and I’m buzzing. I’ve done symposiums and even one guest lecture, but this feels different—real work with real stakes—and I can tell I’m landing it. Jake and Reid sit on either side of me like tall, broad, genius bodyguards, clean shirts and quiet menace, and I have to remind myself to chew instead of climbing them like trees.
We drift into an extremely serious debate about sandwiches because lunch demands philosophy—Jake swears by a chicken cutlet on a sesame roll with too much lemon, Reid insists good bread and great tomatoes make anything holy—when the conference room door opens without a knock.
“Hey,” a guy says, stepping in like he knows where everything belongs. Conference badge, two paper cups in hand, hair with product. I recognize him from Q&A—asked decent questions, wore his own cleverness like cologne.
“Hi,” I say, friendly-professional. “Do you have another question?”
He lifts a paper cup with a flourish. “Got you a coffee, and I’d love to hear more about that stochastic model you mentioned.”
“Oh, um. Thank you,” I say, taking the cup because manners, though I'm not sure what to do with that or why he would bring me coffee. I start where I left off. “So the model’s actually pretty simple under the hood; we’re sampling the posterior with—”
“I was thinking more like one-on-one,” he cuts in, smile turning performative. “Maybe later. Another coffee. Or a drink.”
Oh. Oh.
Heat floods up my neck. On either side of me, the Andersons go perfectly still—the kind of still that means every muscle is ready and none of them will move unless I ask them to. They don’t look at me; they look at him. And I'm honestly surprised the guy doesn't run out of the room under their stares.
“I’m Mark,” he says, as if his name is an access key. “I can take your number.”
I laugh, small and polite, trying to hand him an easy out. “No, thank you.”
He blinks once, recalculates, stays smug. “Why not?”
“I’m taken,” I say, a notch firmer.
His mouth dips—displeased, then smoothed over. “Ah. That doesn't really matter. Just—no offense—but does your boyfriend even work in science? I mean, I actually follow this field. I could really understand what you’re doing.”
Something sharp pricks under my ribs—part anger at the audacity, part that familiar flare when the word no doesn’t land the first time. Under the table, Jake’s knuckles find my thigh and draw one slow, steady arc that says breathe. Reid’s knee presses into mine, an anchor I didn’t know I needed.
I lean back in my chair and let my smile sharpen. “I don’t know,” I say, tipping both thumbs over my shoulders without taking my eyes off him. “Ask them.”
Both of my men flinch like I yanked a pin. They still don’t speak; they just turn their heads and look at me—calm, flat, impossible to misread. Reid’s arm slides along the back of my chair and drops his hand to my shoulder, warm and certain. Jake’s palm settles at my waist, thumb a quiet claim at my side. No theatrics. Just proof.
Mark’s gaze bounces from me to Reid to Jake and back again. His mouth opens. Nothing comes out. He tries again. “Oh. Right. Sorry. I—sorry.” He pivots so fast the coffee in his own hand sloshes, and he practically jogs out; the door kisses shut behind him like it’s embarrassed for him.
“Jerk,” I mutter into the lid of the cup he brought. It tastes sweet and wrong for my mouth, and the petty in me takes a sip anyway.
Reid kisses me—quick, soft, devastating in its certainty. I make a surprised noise, and then Jake takes the corner of my mouth on his way back, just as fast, just as sure. Heat shoots down my spine; my eyes go wide.
“What are you two doing,” I hiss, half laughing, half scandalized as I glance at the glass wall. “Aren’t you terrified someone will see?”
Jake’s grin goes feral. “You didn’t look terrified when you told him you were taken by both of us.”
Reid’s thumb strokes the notch of my collarbone like he can stamp the moment there. “We fucking love you for it.”
The fizz under my skin blooms like champagne. “It felt really good to say,” I admit, honesty easy with their hands on me.
“It felt even better to hear,” they say—Jake first, Reid right behind—and for a heartbeat the whole glass room feels like it remembers who it belongs to.
They both ease their hands off me, like we just called a truce, and we finish lunch like civilized adults—paper crinkling, water caps clicking, the kind of companionable quiet that still feels like a secret.
Jake wipes his thumb on a napkin, eyes glinting. “I wonder if Mark will tell his buddies or if they'll try anyway.”
I blink. “Try what?”
He shrugs, all faux-innocent. “Asking you out. Mark was one of, like, four who’d decided to shoot their shot.”
I inhale at exactly the wrong time and choke on a bite of bread. Reid is already sliding my water toward me, palm at the base of the bottle while I cough, mortified. “Four?”
Jake’s mouth tilts, wicked and fond. “We heard hallway strategy earlier. A whole scrimmage plan. Thermocline bros with big ideas.”
Reid’s brows tick up, amused in that lethal way. “We should’ve known this would happen,” he says, voice warm enough to melt butter. “Look at you.”
“Don’t,” I warn, already feeling the flush climb, which of course only encourages them.
Jake leans back, taking his time as he looks at me like he’s cataloguing evidence. “Gorgeous,” he says simply. “You walk into a building, rooms reorganize around you. That’s just… physics.”
Reid nods, finishing his sandwich like he didn’t just pick me up and drop me two feet to the left with a look. “We’ll keep the mathematicians busy,” he adds. “You keep being you.”
My face is a furnace; I hide in a too-long sip of water and mumble, “You two are impossible.”
“Accurate,” Jake says, checking the time and sliding my laptop back toward me. “Ten minutes.”
Reid gathers the trash, fingers brushing my knee on purpose as he stands. “Plenty,” he murmurs.
I’m still a little red when I cap my pen and stack my notes, but the blush feels less like embarrassment now and more like fuel. If they’re going to grin about me turning heads, fine. I’m going to make sure the only head that matters is the one I’m going to give them tonight.