Chapter 84: Madeline
At home, it’s oddly quiet. The kind of quiet that feels like everyone’s waiting for something to happen.
The house is spotless—still from when I went on my cleaning rampage during my “mandatory rest.” But it’s more than that. The air feels… tense. Everyone’s around, but no one’s really relaxed.
Well—except Charlie. She’s her usual bubbly self, bouncing between the living room and kitchen with that effortless grin, hair in a loose bun, like she’s the human version of sunshine.
She plops down on the couch and says, “So, fun fact—the twins have never asked to have dinner here before. Like, ever. If it’s a team thing, it’s usually at the diner or somewhere they can avoid dishes.”
I blink. “Really?”
Charlie nods gravely. “Really. Which means everyone’s losing their minds trying to figure out why.”
And sure enough, Finn and Liam are sitting at the table, bouncing ideas back and forth like conspiracy theorists.
“Maybe they’re mad,” Liam says. “Like… mad mad. Someone's getting fired mad.”
Finn shakes his head. “Nah, if they were mad, they’d call us into the office. This feels different. Suspicious.”
“Suspicious how?” Charlie asks, pretending to take notes. She loving this.
“I don’t know,” Finn says. “Like they’re planning something.”
Sloane, who’s been leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, finally chimes in, voice flat. “Or maybe they just realized you two can’t feed yourselves without supervision.”
Liam gasps dramatically. “She’s right, it’s an intervention!”
I can’t help it—I giggle. And then everyone’s talking over each other, the energy shifting lighter.
Charlie grins at me and whispers, “See? I told you. They’re spiraling, and I’m living for it.”
I laugh and tell them I’m gonna go get changed, brushing some of the rain off my sleeves as I head upstairs. The rain isn’t as bad as it was earlier, but I still managed to get soaked on the walk back. My sweater clings in cold patches, and my socks squish inside my boots when I kick them off by the door.
Upstairs, I pull off the wet clothes with a groan and grab a clean outfit—a soft white skirt, a warm oversized navy sweater, and thick socks. As I towel-dry my braid, I can’t stop thinking about what Charlie asked me to do.
The twins’ birthday party is in four days, and apparently I’m the chosen one to keep them distracted while everyone else sets up.
I groan out loud, throwing my towel onto the bed. Why me?
I told Charlie she should do it, or Sloane, or literally anyone else, but she’d just laughed. “I’m organizing everything,” she’d said. “Finn and Liam are my muscle, and Sloane would probably tell them before we even start.”
She’s not wrong. But still—how am I supposed to keep those two busy?
“What am I supposed to do, fake a crisis? Throw myself down the stairs?” I mutter, tugging my sweater down.
I try to push the thought aside and walk into the washroom. The house is hot, making the skirt a good choice, and my socks feel almost too cozy against the floor. When I glance in the mirror, I cringe. The bruise on my forehead is still there, faint but stubborn, a shadow above my temple.
At least it doesn’t hurt anymore.
I touch it lightly, then sigh and drop my hand.
One problem at a time.
By the time I make it back downstairs, the house feels louder—like the air’s changed shape.
Charlie’s stretched out on the couch, half-laughing, half-trying to referee whatever’s happening in the kitchen. I slide down next to her, tucking one leg under me.
Sloane’s at the counter with Finn, of all people, and for once, she’s actually laughing.
Not just smiling—laughing.
It’s so out of character that I almost do a double take.
Her whole face changes when she does, like she forgets to be made of sharp edges for half a second.
Liam drops onto the couch beside me, close enough that the cushion dips.
“Didn’t think she was capable of joy, huh?” he says, voice low and teasing.
I snort. “I honestly didn’t.”
He grins, and before I can blink, his arm is draped across the back of the couch, the edge of his sleeve brushing my shoulder.
Liam glances down at me, a half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
“Worried for tonight?” he asks.
I laugh quietly. “Should I be?”
He shrugs, tightening his arm just a little around my shoulders. “Guess we’ll find out.”
It’s simple—comfortable. I lean into him without thinking, warm against his side. It’s always been easy being around Liam, he's a great friend.
Across the room, Finn catches the sight and lifts his middle finger at Liam, grinning like it’s all a joke. I laugh too, shaking my head. “What's that about?”
“Brotherly love,” Liam says, smirking.
Charlie chuckles beside me. “If this is what brotherly love looks like, I’m terrified for whoever marries either of them.”
Laughter rolls easy through the room. Charlie shifts on the couch beside me, one leg tucked under the other, and starts talking about some shampoo she swears by—something about sea-minerals and “actual magic.”
“Magic’s the price tag,” I say, and she smacks my knee with a pillow.
“Don’t mock self-care,” she warns, eyes bright. “You’ll thank me when your hair stops trying to murder you.”
I grin, half-listening as Liam and Finn start arguing with Sloane about who’s worse at cleaning the deck. Liam’s still got his arm behind me; every time he gestures, his sleeve brushes my shoulder. It feels easy, familiar. I don’t move away.
Finn laughs too loudly at something Sloane says, tosses a bottle cap across the room at Liam. Liam catches it one-handed and throws it back, grinning.
Charlie rolls her eyes. “Children. All of you.”
“Accurate,” I say, giggling, and she snorts so hard she almost spills her drink.
The sound of the doorbell threads faintly through the noise.
I pause, head tilted.
“Did you hear—?” I start, but Charlie’s still laughing, and Finn’s already halfway through another story.