Chapter 41: Reid
I’m not exactly thrilled she’s on board today. Jake had “other things to handle,” which means he dumped this on me—his way of saying deal with it, brother. So now it’s my problem: the new biologist with too-big eyes and a tendency to look like she’s about to disappear into the fog.
When she stood there on the wharf, frowning at us, I waited for the usual. The question. Which one’s which? Everyone asks. Hell, half this town still mixes us up after years. Can’t blame them—we’re a carbon copy, give or take a scar, a shade of brown in the eyes.
But she didn’t ask.
She looked. Really looked. And then she figured it out.
And that… threw me.
How the hell did she know? What gave me away? A flicker in my expression? The way I looked back at her? I don’t like not knowing, not being the one in control of the read. But she figured it out, and I felt it—a spark of something that didn’t belong. Satisfaction, maybe. And I hated that it was there.
She went up the gangplank, and Jake leaned close on his way past, voice pitched low.
“She’s got a habit of standing too close to the edge. Keep an eye on her. And maybe… go easy.”
The words stick in my head longer than they should. Too close to the edge? What does that even mean—close enough to slip, close enough to fall? How close do I have to be to keep her safe?
I don’t like the thought.
Because that’s not what I do. I don’t "go easy" on anyone, don’t protect them from their own mistakes. If someone’s a liability, they don’t last out here. Simple as that.
And yet—now the image is there. Her small frame at the rail, hair tugged by the wind, the distance between her and open water. My chest tightens with something I don’t want to name.
It bothers me. Not because she’s weak. Not even because Jake said it.
Because for the first time, I catch myself wondering what I’ll do if she does stand too close. If she slips.
And I already know the answer.
That’s what unsettles me most.
I swing the gate shut with a clang, tie off the line, and head for the wheelhouse. The boat rocks gently, the low thrum of the engine already in my bones.
Sloane’s at the helm, arms crossed, eyes narrowed on the water like it owes her something. She doesn’t even bother to look at me when she says, “You look like you’re in a pissy mood.”
I grunt.
That gets me a sideways glance and a half-smile. “Yup. Thought so.”
She studies me for a second longer, then tilts her chin. “This about the new girl?”
I don’t bite. Just cross my arms and lean against the bulkhead. “How was she yesterday?”
Sloane shrugs like the answer’s obvious. “Fine. Did her work. But your brother—” her mouth twitches—“he’s already becoming one of her puppies. You’ll see.”
I frown. “Puppies?”
“Like Liam and Finn,” she says, scoffing. “It's pathetic. All she has to do is blink at them, and they wag their tails. And Jake—he was watching her like a hawk. The whole freaking time. If he hasn’t realized she’s a distraction yet, he will.”
I should tell her she’s pushing it a little too far. But she’s not wrong. They are distracted. Hell—so am I.
Before I can answer, footsteps creak on the ladder.
Madeline steps in, notebook clutched to her chest like armor. Green eyes dart from me to Sloane. She shrinks back a fraction under the captain’s glare, then steels herself, clears her throat.
“What are we doing today?”
I look at her longer than I should. Fingers tight on that notebook. Determined, even though she looks like she’d rather melt into the floorboards.
“It’s calm,” I say. “Same as yesterday. We’ll go back where you saw the humpback. See if it’s still there.”
She nods, lips pressing together. I know she wants to say something but is holding back.
I sigh. “Or do you think there’s a better idea?”
Her eyes widen, startled. Then she blurts, “Well, the porpoises yesterday, I thought maybe they were heading northwest—at least, the direction looked like northwest—and by the size of the pod there might have been calves, maybe newborns, I couldn’t be sure, but if that’s true then tracking their movement could give us baseline data for where they’re calving, which is huge, especially in this region where there’s barely been records, and if we followed them instead of circling back for one whale we might…”
She stops herself. Cuts it off like she just realized she’s spiraling. Her cheeks flush pink.
Sloane groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Christ.”
I almost laugh. Almost. Because how the hell can her small head hold that many thoughts at once?
Instead I nod. “We’ll do that.”
Sloane whips her head toward me. “Really?”
“Yes.” I don’t bother looking at her. I keep my eyes on Madeline.
She blinks, like she didn’t expect me to agree.
And for some reason, that makes me want to see what else she’s capable of.
The Vigil lurches faster, water foaming in its wake. I climb down from the wheelhouse and step back onto the deck. Salt air bites at my face, familiar, grounding.
Madeline’s already there—hopping, practically—like a kid set loose in a candy store. Notebook hugged against her chest, hair flying wild in the breeze. She turns to Liam, eyes bright, and announces, “We’re going after the porpoises today.” Her smile is blinding.
Liam grins back like she just handed him a winning lottery ticket. She digs through her tote, pulling out binoculars, a pencil, another notebook—a bunch of tools in her hands like she can’t move fast enough.
I press my tongue to the inside of my cheek.
She’s a liability.
She’s also… not boring to watch.
I tilt my head at Finn. He notices and wanders over, wiping his palms down his shorts like he’s bracing for orders.
“It’s calm today,” I tell him, voice low, clipped. “Liam can handle the lines.” My eyes flick to Madeline, still balancing too close to the edge of the railing as she digs through her bag. “You—keep an eye on her. Here and there.”
Finn’s brow quirks, amused. “I get to just sit by her all day?”
I don’t dignify it with a response. Just hold his stare until the smirk slips a little.
He nods. “Got it.”
I step back, arms crossed, watching Madeline shuffle her stuff like the deck is her personal desk. The swell rocks beneath us, gentle but constant, and still she forgets how close she is to open water.
Jake told me to go easy. To watch out for her.
I don’t want to go easy.
I don’t want to watch out.
And yet—my eyes track her anyway.