Chapter 86: Madeline
By the time everyone’s finished, the table looks like a battlefield of empty plates and half-drained glasses. Groans fill the room—soft, content, exhausted.
Charlie leans back in her chair, stretching. “Okay,” she says, eyeing the mess, “you guys are useless. Nobody move for ten years.”
Finn groans in agreement. “Can’t. Physically can’t.”
Liam’s already halfway reclined in his chair, eyes closed. “Worth it.”
I’m not much better—too full, too warm, trying not to sink into the haze of it all.
Then Charlie gasps. “Wait. You didn’t bring dessert?”
Reid shakes his head once, slow, like he’s been waiting for her to ask. “You really think I’d forget?”
He bends, pulls a paper bag from under the table, and slides it toward her.
Charlie opens it—and actually squeals. “You did not!”
“Tiramisu brownies!” she announces, clapping her hands like a kid on her birthday.
Reid’s not smiling, not really, but there’s the ghost of it there—something softer around the edges. “I knew you’d kick me out if I didn’t.”
The table laughs; the sound feels easy, unguarded.
I half smile, watching the way he looks at her—comfortable, natural. No tension there, none of the tightness he carries when he looks at me.
My fingers rest on the edge of my plate when I feel it—a light touch against my hand, the faintest drag of a thumb over the back of it.
I glance up.
Jake’s watching me, eyes steady, too knowing. “You okay?” he asks, voice low enough that it barely cuts through the noise, only for me to hear.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, smiling. “Just thinking I might actually fall into a food coma if I eat one of those.”
He smirks, slow and easy. “Then let’s share.”
Before I can answer, he breaks one in half with his hands and sets the smaller piece on my plate.
The chocolate and coffee scent hits immediately, rich and sweet.
“Half a coma each,” he says.
I can’t help the laugh that slips out, quiet and a little nervous, and for a second, it feels like the whole world has narrowed to the sound of his voice and the warmth still lingering on my skin where he touched me.
When the plates are mostly cleared and everyone’s sunk halfway into their chairs, I assume that’s it—that they’ll thank Charlie, pack up whatever’s left, and disappear back into the night.
But of course, Charlie has other plans.
She sits forward suddenly, eyes sparkling. “Nope. Don’t even think about it,” she says, pointing a fork like a weapon. “Every dinner party ends in games and more drinking. That’s a rule.”
Across the table, both twins make a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a growl.
Jake rubs the back of his neck. “We’ve got an early morning.”
“Don’t care,” Charlie says, already standing to grab the wine. “You’re off-duty. No science talk, no boat talk, no ghosting. Sit.”
Reid leans back in his chair, arms crossed, the faintest muscle ticking in his jaw. “You’re serious.”
“Oh, very,” she says sweetly. “You don’t get to be boring and in charge.”
Finn laughs into his glass. “She’s right, boss. Mutiny.”
“Democracy,” Liam adds, grinning. “Majority vote says you’re staying.”
I bite down a laugh, trying to smother it into my hand when Reid mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like a curse.
The two of them exchange a look—silent, unreadable—and I can practically see the conversation happening between them.
Run for the door, or just shut them all up?
Jake exhales first, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fine.”
Reid’s answer comes a beat later, quieter but firm. “Fine.”
The table breaks into cheers and clinking glasses, Charlie victorious as she slides a bottle toward Finn.
I can’t help giggling under my breath as I watch the two most controlled men I’ve ever met surrender to peer pressure like they’ve just been strong-armed by a pack of overgrown kids.
I didn’t think they’d say yes.
But they did.
And somehow, that makes me a little happy.
Everyone drifts toward the living room, the sound of laughter spilling down the hall ahead of us. Someone grabs the remaining bottles, Charlie carrying the brownies like a trophy.
Liam falls into step beside me, twisting the cap off a beer and holding it out. “Another?”
I shake my head. “No thanks. My tolerance is terrible. One was enough.”
He smirks. “I’d love to see what kind of drunk you are.”
Charlie spins around, walking backward just long enough to grin. “I'm a dance drunk,” she declares. “Finn’s a sloppy drunk, and Liam’s a sleepy one.”
“Hey,” Finn protests, “I’m fun drunk.”
“Sloppy,” Charlie repeats, sing-song.
They’re still teasing each other when we reach the living room, voices bouncing off the walls, the air warm and alive.
I don’t even notice the shift until it happens—Reid moves quietly, stepping between me and Liam like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Jake’s already on my other side, the motion so smooth it doesn’t even register as deliberate until I’m boxed in by them both.
No words. No looks exchanged. Just an unspoken decision.
Charlie drops onto a beanbag, tugging Finn down with her. Sloane claims the armchair, Liam takes the other beanbag, still smiling like none of this is strange.
I hesitate a second, then sink to the floor in front of the couch.
Reid sits behind me on one side, Jake on the other, their knees angled just close enough that I can feel the heat radiating through the space between us. The air shifts, heavier now, quieter.
Their hands rest on their knees—still, relaxed—but close enough that if I leaned back even a little, I’d brush against them.
Charlie’s talking about what game to play, her voice bright and sharp, but it’s hard to focus.
All I can feel is the warmth of them behind me—the solid presence, the quiet breathing, the impossible awareness that even in a room full of people, I’m suddenly caught between them.