Chapter 104: Madeline
I can’t believe my eyes.
Every video I ever watched didn’t come close to this. It feels like I’m swirling my fingers through galaxies—tiny starbursts blooming around my skin and then fading like they were never there. My leggings are cold and wet at the knees; I can’t really feel my fingers; I don’t care.
Slowly—so slowly—the glow softens. Each wave is dimmer than the last, and the tide creeps higher, stronger, nudging the pebbles. I push up to stand before the surf climbs over me. The guys are already on their feet, hands out like they’re ready to pull me back if I forget to move.
I sigh one last time, stupidly, wildly happy.
And then it sinks in. The twins.
I turn and they’re both there, towering over me. Without the moonlight or the bioluminescence, they look unreal—two warriors carved from shadow, dark angels at the edge of the sea. They were out doing… something. I interrupted their night, and now they’re here with me.
“Sorry for interrupting your evening,” I say.
“What?” Jake answers, like it’s ridiculous. “You didn’t. We followed willingly.”
I squint. “Admit it—it’s because you didn’t trust me not to end up drowned on the beach.”
“A bit of that too,” Reid says, deadpan.
I can’t hide my smile at his attempt at humor. Reid flicks a glance at Jake, then back to me. “I’ll go check on our takeout. I’ll see you up there.”
I blink, confused, but Jake says, “Yeah—we’re coming.” And Reid climbs back up like the rocks are nothing more than steps. It isn’t fair—long, strong legs, easy balance—then he disappears over the ledge.
When I turn back, Jake’s already staring at me. Heat crawls up my cheeks and straight through my core.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “You probably didn’t want to spend your night like this.”
He steps closer—slow, deliberate—until the air between us feels charged, unsteady.
He takes my hand, his palm broad and warm against my cold skin, and folds the edge of his hoodie over it. The motion is careful, reverent almost, like he’s drying something fragile he doesn’t want to break. Each stroke of the fabric is slow, dragging heat back into my fingers, and my breath catches before I can stop it.
Then he takes the other hand, mirroring the motion, his knuckles brushing mine, his head bowed just enough that I feel his breath against my temple. There’s nothing hurried about it—he’s taking his time, tracing every inch, grounding me while undoing me entirely.
Around him—when he touches me—everything else dissolves. The cold, the wind, the sound of the sea. There’s only the nearness of him, the steadiness in his movements, and the dizzying pull that makes it impossible to think about anything but how it feels to be touched like this.
“Jake,” I manage. “About last night…”
“Mmm?” His eyes don’t leave mine.
“If I crossed a line. Or did something wrong—”
“You didn’t.” The answer is immediate, quiet.
He hesitates, searching my face. “Did I?”
I shake my head.
“Then good.” His thumb drifts up, brushing a slow line along the side of my neck.
A shiver races through me.
“Let’s go before you catch a cold,” he murmurs.
I don’t correct him. The shiver isn’t cold. It’s the exact opposite—heat, sharp and bright, and all of it because of him.
The climb back up is way harder than going down.
My fingers are numb, my knees keep knocking against the stone, and my legs—well, they’re still a little unsteady from Jake.
Behind me, I hear him chuckle, low and quiet, every time I mutter something under my breath about how stupidly tall these rocks are.
I glance over my shoulder, glaring—or at least trying to. “You two, with your—your…” I gesture vaguely at him, at the unfair length of him, the muscle, the ease. “Of course you’re laughing, but the rest of us mortals don’t find climbing these giant rocks easy.”
His chuckle deepens, the sound rumbling low in his chest. “Mortals, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say, breathless, hauling myself up another ledge. “Some of us weren’t carved out of granite.”
He hums, still right behind me, close enough that I can feel his warmth even through the cold wind. “If you fall,” he says, voice softer now, “I’ll catch you.”
I don’t answer. Because somehow, I already know he would.
When I finally haul myself over the ledge, I land on the street with a small, graceless thud—and find Reid leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed like he’s been waiting forever.
He doesn’t even try to hide the unimpressed look on his face. “You should stop making a habit of going over ledges you can’t come back from.”
It takes me a second to realize what he means.
The boulder. Weeks ago. When I’d sat out on the edge of it, and he’d climbed up after me.
“Funny,” I mutter, brushing dirt off my hands. “Didn’t see you volunteering to help this time.”
Jake hops over the wall behind me in one effortless motion—though I swear I see the faintest wince when he lands. Served him right, granite man.
Reid looks at him. “Ready to go?”
But Jake doesn’t answer right away. There’s this look—that twin telepathy thing—and whatever passes between them makes Reid’s jaw tighten.
Jake clears his throat. “Actually, this takeout’s probably cold by now. I’ll go warm it up. You should walk Madeline back.”
“What? No, it’s fine,” I blurt, already waving my hands. “I know the way, it’s not even that late.”
The idea of Reid walking me home for the third time is mortifying. Especially if Charlie sees him—she’s going to start thinking I’m going after Reid or something like that.
Jake shakes his head, serious now. “We’re not letting you go back alone.”
“I ran all the way here, didn’t I?” I argue, trying to sound confident. “I was fine.”
Reid’s voice is dry as stone. “You hit a wall on the way here.”
I narrow my eyes at him, trying my best to look scary. He just smirks.
Jake chuckles under his breath. “It’s settled, then.” He starts to walk away, the bag of food swinging loosely at his side. “See you soon, Madeline.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, giving him a small wave.
I watch him go until he turns the corner, his tall frame swallowed by the streetlight glow—wondering why he didn’t offer to walk me home himself.