Chapter 107: Madeline
My alarm goes off like a pack of screaming monkeys being murdered.
I jolt awake on the couch, heart pounding, and immediately hear twin groans from either side of me.
“Why,” Finn mumbles into a pillow, “does your alarm sound like that?”
Liam throws an arm over his face. “Are we being attacked by chimps?”
I rub sleep from my eyes, reach down to where my phone’s fallen on the floor, and finally manage to stop the chaos. “Because,” I say, yawning, “if I pick something pleasant, I’ll just sleep through it. This way, I have to get up.”
Finn stretches, hair sticking up in all directions. “Honestly? Smart.”
I grin sleepily, already heading toward the kitchen. The place still smells faintly of popcorn and sleep. I start the coffee machine—Charlie’s going to need it the second she’s up—then pad upstairs to shower.
The water’s warm enough to wake me properly, washing off the last of the salt and exhaustion from last night. They said the water would be calm today, so I layer up warm but skip the full work gear. No need for waders and waterproofs if I’m lucky enough to stay dry… though knowing my track record, I probably won’t.
I’m halfway through tugging my socks on when there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in!” I call.
Charlie pokes her head through the door, already smiling. “Where did you go last night? You vanished after dinner.”
I grin, caught. “To see the bioluminescence.”
Her giggle is soft, teasing. “You nerd.”
“Proudly,” I say, laughing.
Charlie sits cross-legged on my bed, still in her sleep shirt and shorts, hair a wild halo that makes her look like she hasn’t fully decided if she’s awake yet. I tug the second sock on and glance at her through the mirror.
“What’s on your plate today?” I ask.
She groans softly and flops backward. “Paperwork,” she says like it’s a curse. “Some boring approvals for the new gear, a few things to go over with Jake and Reid about the boat, and then…” She smirks, eyes half-closed. “Then I’ll pretend to come back here to work, but really I’ll be finishing up the last details for the party tomorrow.”
I blink. “Oh, right. That’s tomorrow already.”
“Yep,” she says, sitting up again and tucking her hair behind her ear. “And have you thought about how you’re keeping the twins distracted while we set up?”
I let out a breath. “Not even a little.”
She laughs. “Okay, I’ll try to think of something today to help you out.”
“That would be great,” I say, pulling my hair into a braid and slipping a tuque over it.
Charlie stands and pulls me into a quick, warm hug. “Good luck out there today, Scientist.”
I grin. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”
Downstairs, the smell of toast and coffee fills the kitchen. Finn, Liam, and Sloane are already dressed and halfway through breakfast like it’s nothing.
I stop in the doorway, still zipping my jacket. “How do you guys get ready so fast?”
Liam shrugs, mouth full. “Low standards.”
Finn raises his coffee like a toast. “And no hair routines.”
Sloane doesn’t even look up from her phone.
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling as I grab a piece of toast for myself.
We all head out together, the cold air biting at our cheeks, boots crunching against the damp boards of the dock. It feels a little strange without the twins there — like the balance’s off somehow — but this is our team. My team.
And I’m so, so happy to be here.
The first time since the latch accident, since that rush of panic that nearly drowned me on dry land. But this morning… there’s none of that. No tightness in my chest, no flashes of memory. Just the soft hum of excitement, the familiar scent of salt and diesel, and the steady rhythm of waves lapping against the hull.
Finn and Liam untie the ropes while I set my bag in its usual spot, pulling out my notebook and tucking a pencil behind my ear. Sloane’s already in the wheelhouse, moving with calm precision, flipping switches and checking gauges. When the last line drops into the water, she starts the engines, the boat purring beneath our feet before pushing off into the open sea.
I wait a minute before climbing up to the wheelhouse, steadying myself against the rail. “What’s the plan for today?” I ask, keeping my tone easy.
Sloane glances over her shoulder. Her face is unreadable — still cool, still distant — but not sharp. “We had reports of some bigger whales near the S54 buoy a few days ago,” she says.
I nod, instantly mapping the location in my mind. “Isn’t that where the continental rise starts? Around the seamounts?”
Her eyebrows lift, just barely. “Yeah.”
“Then maybe the currents brought bait balls up that way,” I say, trying not to sound too eager. “If they got trapped in the eddies, that could explain the sightings. Definitely worth checking it out.”
Sloane studies me for a moment, maybe surprised I know that, before nodding once. “Okay. It’ll take about an hour and a half to get there,” she says, turning back to the wheel. “If you see something in the water, give this signal to stop.” She shows me the motion, sharp and clear. “Or send Finn or Liam up to tell me.”
“Perfect,” I say, grinning. “Great plan.”
I climb back down from the wheelhouse, the wind catching my braid and whipping it against my shoulder. The air smells like salt and cold metal and something alive beneath the surface.
The others are settled into their routines — Finn and Liam checking the gear, Sloane’s silhouette steady behind the glass — but I head straight for the bow.
That’s always been my favorite place.
I sit on the bench at the front, legs tucked close, binoculars in hand. The boat cuts clean through the water, leaving white trails in its wake, the horizon a soft blur of gray-blue and mist.
I know I could go inside, warm up, maybe even grab a coffee before we get close to the buoy — but I don’t want to.
Not yet.
Not when it feels this good to breathe, to be out here again. The steady hum of the engines, the sting of the wind against my cheeks, the rhythm of the sea beneath me — it’s all grounding, all real.
So I sit there, watching the water roll out in endless ripples, scanning the surface through my binoculars even though I know we’re still miles away from anything.
It doesn’t matter.
Right now, I just want to take all of it in.