Chapter 105: Reid
Did it kill me a bit to let Jake have a moment with Madeline?
Yeah. It fucking did.
Did I want to take it back the second I said it? Absolutely.
But Jake earned it. For being the bigger man last night. For trying to find a way through this thing between the three of us without burning everything down. For saying the hard shit I couldn’t. And he meant it, too, because now he’s the one giving me space to walk her home.
His excuse about “warming up leftovers” when we both know we got cold subs is pathetic—but I know what he’s doing. He’s handing me my turn.
At first, it’s quiet. Just our steps and the sound of her jacket brushing against her legs. Then she asks,
“Why aren’t you or Jake coming on the boat tomorrow?”
It catches me off guard. She probably hasn’t noticed the bruises yet, not in this light. “I trust you to do this by yourself,” I say.
Her head snaps toward me so fast it makes me grin. “You?!”
“Yeah, me,” I chuckle.
She looks down, fingers still faintly red from the cold water, and murmurs, “Bioluminescence is magic.”
It makes something in me twist—this humor of hers, the way her brain works. “You’ve been out a few times now. Every trip’s gone fine—mostly. Anything that went wrong was never your fault. And your work is good. You don’t need us hovering.”
She nods, thoughtful, then glances up again. “So it has nothing to do with last night?”
My brow tightens. “Why would it?”
“Liam and Finn thought it was because you were mad everyone got drunk.”
“Oh.” I shake my head. “No. It’s not that.”
“I wasn’t drunk,” she blurts, quick, like a confession. “At all.”
I look down at her. “I know.”
We walk another few steps. Her house is close when she says quietly, “Reid?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For last night.”
“It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t.” Her voice trembles. “I panicked, and you—somehow—you got me out of it.”
I stop walking, and she turns toward me. The porch lights from the distance catch in her eyes, and I can’t ask what I really want—why she was scared, who the hell made her like this—so instead I reach out, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, let my fingers linger a little longer than I should. “I’d do it again.”
She swallows, looks up. That look—the one that always wrecks me—is right there. The one Jake acknowledged she never gave him. The one that could bring any man to his knees, myself included. Then she looks away, bites her lip.
“I told Charlie,” she says suddenly.
That throws me. “Oh?”
“About last night. You were being nice and I didn’t want her to think anything of it, so I told her this morning.”
I frown. Why the hell would Charlie care?
My cousin’s never given a shit about anyone I’ve been with. Not once. What does she mean think anything of it?
Madeline’s still talking, nervous. “I know maybe you’re not too pleased around me all the time.” A small, apologetic twist of her mouth. “Especially not at first, and maybe now it's a bit better, but I'm not going to pretend I'm your favorite employee. You’ve had to manage a lot of emergencies because of me, all in just a few weeks, and I know I’ve been—But...”
She trails off, bites her lip again, staring at the ground. I step forward, my hand finding the back of her neck, my thumb brushing the delicate skin there, coaxing her to look at me. “But what?”
She swallows. Her pulse flutters under my fingers. “I… feel safe with you.”
That single sentence hits me harder than any punch Jake’s ever thrown.
She flinches like she’s already bracing for punishment. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t say that, it’s just true.” The ramble takes her, quick and shaky. “Moments like last night mess with my head and I misread signals and—and—and—”
She’s spiraling now, words tumbling out faster than breath. I could stop her, but something in me wants to hear it all—the mess, the fear, the way she says misread like she’s apologizing for wanting something.
She brings both hands up, wraps her small fingers around my wrist, and gently pries my hand away from her neck. But she doesn’t let go. Her grip lingers, soft, trembling. She looks down at where she’s holding me, and I turn my wrist, sliding my thumb along the back of her hand. Her skin’s cold, and it makes me want to warm it with my mouth.
Her voice wavers, soft but splintered. “I love Charlie,” she whispers, and her bottom lip quivers before she forces the rest out. “And I love this job. And these feelings are one-sided, and because of that I think I should stay away from you. Outside of work. I don’t want to cause a mess. Or prove you right and be trouble.”
One-sided? The word cracks through me.
She’s standing right there, trembling, eyes glassy and wide, saying things that don’t line up with the way she’s looking at me—the way she’s breathing like she can feel me from inches away. Everything in her body is contradicting her mouth.
She doesn’t believe what she’s saying.
And I know it, because I’ve never seen someone lie worse than Madeline does.
I take a step closer, my hand finding her waist, my voice rough. “What are you talking about?”
She’s breathing fast now, eyes darting up to mine. The air between us feels like it’s about to break. I could kiss her right now, and she’d let me. I know it—her body’s swaying toward me before she catches herself.
But then she steps back, shaking her head. “Thank you for everything,” she whispers, and turns, running inside.
The door shuts behind her, and I stand there, jaw tight, heart hammering.
What the hell just happened?
She said she had to stay away. She said feelings. She said she feels safe with me.
And none of it makes sense. Not the part about Charlie, not the part about pulling back.
I look at her closed door, the faint light slipping through the curtains, and I know one thing with absolute, dangerous certainty—
She can say whatever she wants about staying away.
But I’m not letting her.
Not if she has feelings for me.
Not if a kernel of herself recognized the lies she spun just now.
She is Trouble alright.
My Trouble.