Chapter 94: Madeline
After another half hour of staring at the wall and listening to the boys emptying their stomach like an audition for The Exorcist, I can’t take it anymore.
The air feels too heavy, my room too small, my thoughts too loud.
I pull on my gray leggings, white sneakers, and a loose light-gray half-zip sweatshirt. I grab my phone, my headphones, and slip out before I can change my mind.
The house smells like stale wine and garlic bread. Charlie and Sloane are at the kitchen counter, both looking like they’ve fought separate wars but somehow survived. Charlie’s hair is a mess of curls piled on top of her head, and she’s smiling through what must be a brutal hangover.
“Morning,” I mumble, trying to sound normal.
Charlie beams, far too bright for a human being with alcohol still in her bloodstream. “Hey, sunshine! Coffee’s—”
“I’m heading out for a bit,” I interrupt gently. “I’ll come back later.”
Charlie opens her mouth to say something else—probably something sweet or teasing—but I’m already out the door. I feel bad for not staying longer, but I need to get out of that house.
The cold hits immediately.
Crisp, damp, the kind that smells faintly of salt and rain.
The street is empty except for a few stray gulls perched on lampposts, feathers ruffled from the wind. I shove my hands into my sweatshirt pocket and start walking.
By the time I reach the cliffs, the fog has rolled in thick and heavy, swallowing the horizon. The stairs down to the beach are slick with mist, the sound of the waves below a slow, steady roar.
When they first showed me this place, it was real summer. The sky had been open and blue, the ocean glittering, the wind soft enough to feel like it carried laughter. Now, it looks like a painting left out in the rain—muted and gray and beautiful in its own strange, quiet way.
I sit halfway down the rocky steps and put on my headphones. The first notes of a soft piano piece spill into my ears—calm, repetitive, familiar.
For a while, I just sit there. Watching the waves crash, pull back, crash again.
My mind tries to sort through last night—Jake’s voice, Reid’s hands, the fear, the comfort, the warmth—but I stop it before it can dig too deep.
Not now.
I let it all pass through me instead: the fragments, the feelings, the guilt, the ache.
The waves don’t ask me to understand them. They just come and go.
So I decide to do the same.
I can sort everything out later.
When the tide is calmer.
I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at the water—long enough for my mind to turn to fog like the air around me. I don’t even hear the footsteps until a hand lands gently on my shoulder.
I flinch so hard my headphones slip from my ears, music cutting off mid-note.
I twist around.
“Hey,” Charlie says softly, breathless, her cheeks pink from the cold. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
My heart is still racing. I manage a small, shaky smile. “How did you find me?”
She laughs, the sound light but strained. “I followed you maybe ten minutes after you left. Went everywhere—the market, the cliffs, even that creepy trail near the docks. I was about to give up when I saw your shoes.”
I glance down at the sand clinging to my sneakers and huff a tiny, uneven laugh. “You shouldn’t have.”
Charlie just watches me for a beat, her usual brightness dimmed. “Madeline… what’s wrong?”
Something in her voice—the soft steadiness, the way she asks without pushing—undoes me.
My throat closes. Tears sting before I can blink them away, and then they’re spilling fast, one after another, catching the cold wind on my cheeks. My breath comes out in a broken sound.
“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, pulling me into her arms. The warmth of her cuts through the chill, but I’m trembling anyway.
She holds me while I try to breathe through it, but the sobs keep catching. The sound of waves crashing below us mixes with it, rhythmic, almost cruel in how calm it is.
When I can finally speak, it comes out hoarse. “Can you… can you keep a secret?”
Charlie leans back just enough to meet my eyes. “From everyone?”
I nod. “Everyone. Even Reid. And the boys and... Yeah, everyone.”
She hesitates for a heartbeat, then nods once. “Yeah. Of course.”
I drag in a shaky breath and stare out at the gray line where the ocean meets the fog. “A year ago, I broke up with my boyfriend. We’d been together for two years. It was fine. Civil. I just… didn’t see a future there.”
My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else.
“He took it well at first. Said he understood. Then, a month or two later, he started texting me. Asking to talk. To meet. I agreed a couple of times because—” I let out a weak laugh. “Because I thought we could still be friends.”
Charlie’s quiet beside me. Only the waves answer.
“Every time we met, he’d bring it up again. Us. Getting back together. And when I said no, it’s like something in him changed. He started showing up—everywhere. School. Work. Asking my friends where I was. He’d text and call every day. All day.”
The tears blur my vision again. I wipe them with my sleeve, but they just keep coming.
“I blocked his number. His socials. Everything. He started waiting at my front door. Just sitting there for hours. So I moved dorms. But then I started getting letters. And calls. If someone else answered, it was always him.”
I hear Charlie’s breath catch, her hand finding mine, fingers trembling.
“One night,” I whisper, “I was coming home late. He followed me. Drove up beside me so close the mirror brushed my coat. Told me to get in, that we needed to talk. I didn’t know what else to do. I got in.”