Chapter 126: Jake
By the time we reach the main street, the sky is navy-blue and thick with the kind of quiet that always settles over Northhaven before night truly falls. The ocean breeze still carries salt, still smells like the day we just had — but now it feels heavier. Different.
Madeline walks between us, her pace easy but her hands fidgeting with the edge of her dress. The flustered look she had when we left her house is fading, replaced by something that looks halfway between nervous and excited. She keeps glancing around like she knows something we don’t, and it’s almost enough to pull me out of my head. Almost.
Because I still haven’t shaken the feeling of her on my lap.
When I told her to come closer, she did — fast. Like a good girl. Like she wanted to.
And fuck if that didn’t mess with me. The weight of her, the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of that dress, the soft breath she let out when I touched the back of her thighs. She didn’t fight it. She didn’t pull away. She melted.
And having Reid there, close enough that she was caught between us? It made it worse. The sight of her looking up at him while sitting on me — her lips parted, her pulse racing at her throat — it took every ounce of my control not to give in. Not to forget Charlie’s little surprise, forget our birthday, and just keep her there. Between us. Exactly where she belongs.
But I didn’t. I let her go. And now here we are.
She’s walking a little ahead of us now, the lamplight catching on the soft green of her dress — the same shade as her swimsuit earlier, mint and summer and something that looks too delicate for this world. It ties low at her back, exposing smooth skin that glows against the dark. The fabric sways with each step, brushing her thighs, and I’m half convinced she knows what it’s doing to me.
Her hair’s still damp from her shower, curling wild at the ends from the salt. The faintest sheen of gold freckles across her shoulders from the day in the sun. Reid’s hoodie is gone now, and her white sneakers — the ones he’d crouched down to put on her — make her look almost innocent again. Almost.
She’s too beautiful for words.
So beautiful that I don’t notice where we’ve stopped until Reid speaks.
“The Seafoam Bar?” His voice is low, skeptical.
I blink, looking up. Sure enough, we’re standing in front of the Seafoam — windows dark, no music, the sign above us barely lit. It looks dead.
I frown. “It’s closed.”
Madeline turns to us, smiling like she’s been holding back a secret. “Is it?”
Reid and I both look at her, and she looks back up at us with that spark in her eyes, the one that always makes me forget how to breathe. Then she steps aside, gesturing toward the door with a little flourish.
“Happy birthday,” she says softly.
Reid and I exchange a look — the kind that doesn’t need words. A quick lift of an eyebrow from him, the faintest smirk tugging at my mouth, and we both step forward.
The door creaks when I push it open, and I turn slightly, instinctively, to make sure Madeline’s right behind us. She is — standing in the glow of the streetlight, her green dress soft against the dark, biting her lip like she’s nervous but excited too. I jerk my chin toward her. “C’mon,” I murmur, and she nods, stepping in close as the door shuts behind her.
Inside, it’s pitch-black. The kind of dark that hums with something just beneath it. I can hear soft whispers, quick shuffling, a muffled giggle. Reid’s already tensed beside me — I can feel it more than see it — and for half a second I’m ready to ask if this is part of whatever Charlie cooked up when—
Light.
Every bulb, every string light, every damn lantern in the Seafoam Bar flares to life at once — and the silence explodes.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”
It’s not just the team. It’s everyone.
Charlie’s at the front with Sloane, Finn, and Liam, all grinning like lunatics. Behind them— Jesus, it looks like half of Northhaven squeezed in here. The youth crew, old fishermen, a few shop owners, faces I haven’t seen since last summer. The noise is deafening — cheers, laughter, the sound of glasses clinking — and I can’t help the grin that breaks across my face.
Reid’s smirking, that quiet, proud sort of smirk he does when he’s trying not to laugh. He tilts his head toward me like, we should've seen this coming.
Maybe, but this is way bigger than I thought.
I turn, looking for her — and there she is. Madeline.
She’s standing a few feet back, her face lit up by the soft gold of the lights, smiling so bright it hits me square in the chest. There’s this little crease at the bridge of her nose, the kind that only shows when she’s genuinely happy. She’s glowing, like she’s the one who got the gift.
Then Charlie barrels forward, throwing herself at Reid. “Happy birthday, you idiot!”
He laughs, catching her easily, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re crazy.”
“You love me,” she fires back before spinning toward me.
“Happy birthday, Jakey!”
I laugh, scooping her up and spinning her around once before setting her back down. “Thanks, troublemaker.”
And then — chaos.
A flood of people surges in, hands clapping our shoulders, hugs, shouts, everyone talking at once. It’s loud and warm and overwhelming in the best way. Familiar faces blur together — some I’ve known for years, some just this season.
But through it all, I keep catching glimpses of her.
Madeline, hovering by the bar now, laughing at something Finn said, her fingers nervously twisting a strand of her hair. Every time I look at her, she’s already looking somewhere else — but the smile doesn’t leave her face.