Chapter 121: Madeline
When I wake up, I don’t even know where I am for a second. The light is different—low and golden—and the air is warm but softer now, like the day has exhaled. I blink, rub the sleep out of my eyes, and something smells amazing.
The hoodie I’m cocooned in—it’s heavy, soft, and smells like salt and cedar and something darker, warm and distinctly male. It’s the kind of scent you could get drunk on.
I bury my face in the sleeve for half a second before my brain catches up.
Reid’s hoodie.
Jake’s chest.
The memory slams into me all at once and I jolt upright so fast the world tilts sideways.
“Ow,” I mutter, pressing a hand to my head.
Finn’s laugh rumbles nearby. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
I squint at him. “Morning?”
Liam checks his phone, grinning. “More like evening, actually.”
I look around, blinking against the sun, trying to get my bearings. The beach looks different now—the light deeper, shadows longer. Reid, Jake, and Charlie are gone. It’s just Finn, Liam, and Sloane sitting in the sand like nothing’s changed.
“I don’t even remember falling asleep,” I say, still rubbing my eyes. My voice comes out low and groggy, like I’ve been asleep for hours.
Finn chuckles again. “You’re cute when you sleep.”
Sloane scoffs, rolling her eyes so hard I think I hear it.
I blush immediately, tugging at the hoodie sleeves like they’ll hide me. “Where are the others?”
Finn shrugs, overly casual. “Went to get drinks.” Then his grin widens, too proud of himself. “Well—technically, Charlie went to distract them.”
I blink. “Distract them?”
Liam leans back on his elbows, grinning like a kid who knows something I don’t. “Yeah, so we could wake you up and remind you—” he gestures vaguely toward me “—that you have to keep them busy until seven.”
“Seven?” I squeak, checking my phone like it’s going to change the truth. “It’s only five!”
“Yup,” Finn says, drawing out the word with way too much enjoyment. “That’s two whole hours, boss lady. Better get creative.”
I groan, dragging my hands down my face. “What am I supposed to do with them for two hours?”
They exchange a look that says we have no idea, but we can't wait to find out.
Liam shrugs. “We honestly wouldn’t know what to do with them either, so… good luck.”
Finn adds, “And maybe don’t fall asleep again. That’d make the distraction part a little too easy.”
I throw a handful of sand at him, and he laughs, dodging it easily.
But still—two hours.
I flop back on the towel, staring up at the sky, my heart already picking up speed at the thought of facing Reid and Jake again.
Five hours.
We’ve been here for five hours.
And somehow, it feels like everything is just getting started.
They all start packing up their things—towels shaking out in the breeze, half-empty bottles, candy wrappers crinkling.
Finn and Liam are still bickering as they stuff everything into their bags. “No, you carry the cooler,” Finn says.
“Absolutely not,” Liam counters. “You’re the one who decided to fill it with ice again. It weighs a ton.”
“You’re stronger!”
“We both know that's a lie,” Liam shoots back, grinning.
Sloane groans, standing and brushing the sand off her legs. “You two sound like an old married couple.” Then, without so much as a goodbye, she tosses her towel over her shoulder and stalks off toward the boardwalk, muttering something about sand in her shoes.
Finn salutes lazily. “Later, sunshine.”
She flips him off over her shoulder without turning around.
Liam laughs. “Charming, as always.”
Finn turns to me with a wink. “Good luck, Mads. We’ll see you later.”
I give them a helpless little wave. “You guys are seriously leaving me?”
He shrugs. “Orders from the boss. Well, not the boss, but Charlie. You’ll be fine.”
“Sure,” I mumble. “Completely fine.”
And then—quiet.
The only sound now is the ocean, soft and steady, rolling over the sand. The sun is lower, gilding everything in gold.
I glance around. Their towels are gone. The cooler. The taffy. Even Sloane’s perfectly rolled towel is missing.
But the twins’ towels—one on each side of mine—are still there. Their bags, too.
They’re coming back.
I exhale slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
So this is it. Alone on the beach, wrapped in Reid’s hoodie that smells like him, surrounded by their things.
And in less than a few minutes, it’ll just be the three of us.
I draw my knees up to my chest, press my cheek against the soft fabric, and stare out at the water shimmering under the last of the sunlight.
Two hours.
Just me.
And them.
I run through options in my head.
Ask them to go swimming again? No—too risky. I might actually combust if either of them get in the water shirtless again.
Ask about work? Great idea, Madeline, bore them to death.
Suggest a walk? Sure, because nothing says I’m totally fine and not flustered at all like strolling down the beach with two men who look like they were carved by gods.
I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Think, Madeline. Think.”
“Think about what?”
I scream. It’s not cute or quiet—it’s loud, sharp enough that a few gulls take off down the beach. My heart is in my throat before I even turn around.
Jake’s standing behind me, hands half-raised like he’s caught doing something he shouldn’t. Reid’s next to him, still as stone, eyes locked on Jake like he’s one second away from punching him.
“Jesus,” I exhale, pressing a hand to my chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Jake steps closer immediately, voice low and steady. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d scare that easy—I thought you heard us coming.”
He looks serious, not flustered, not defensive—just angry at himself. His eyes flicker to my shaking hands, then back up, his jaw tightening when he sees it.
I shake my head, forcing a small laugh. “No, it’s fine. Really. I should’ve been paying attention.”
He watches me for a beat, searching my face to make sure I’m telling the truth. Then he nods once. “You good?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Reid hasn’t moved. He’s staring at Jake, his expression unreadable but sharp enough to slice through glass. His fists are in his pockets, shoulders tight, his jaw flexing once, twice. That muscle in his temple ticks the way it always does when he’s furious but too disciplined to say a word.