Chapter 136: Jake
After we walk Madeline to her door—watching her step inside, lock it, and give us that small, tired wave goodnight—we stand there for a few seconds in silence, neither of us moving. The porch light hums quietly above us, and the sea air smells like salt and wood smoke.
When the lock clicks, we turn and start heading back toward the bar. The streets are quieter now, only the occasional laugh spilling out from somewhere in the distance.
For a while, it’s just the sound of our boots on the pavement. Then Reid says, his voice low, “I kissed her.”
I don’t even look at him. I just nod. “I figured.”
He glances sideways at me, almost amused. “How?”
I smirk. “You smell like vanilla. Not exactly your usual… scent.”
He lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.
“And,” I add, “she looked like someone who’d just been kissed. Hard.”
He hums in acknowledgment, not denying it.
“So?” I ask after a beat. “How was it?”
He exhales, a sound that’s half a laugh and half something darker. “It was everything,” he says simply. Then, after a pause, “The way she looks at you, the way she feels… she’s so soft, Jake. Every time I touch her, it’s like she’s not real. She made these little sounds—tiny, breathless things—and every one went straight to my head. Every second of that kiss felt like losing control.”
I groan, running a hand through my hair. “Christ. Don’t make me go back there.”
Reid laughs quietly, the bastard. Then his expression shifts, thoughtful. “You know what she thought? She thought Charlie and I were dating.”
I stop mid-step. “She what?”
“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “Whole time she’s been avoiding me because she thought Charlie was my girlfriend.”
I bark out a laugh, half disbelieving. “Damn. Didn’t see that coming.”
“Neither did I,” Reid mutters. “But… explains a lot.”
We walk in silence again for a few seconds, the glow from the bar now visible at the end of the street. My thoughts are still tangled somewhere between that kiss and the look on Madeline’s face before she went inside.
Then I ask, “Why outside, though? You couldn’t have taken her somewhere less cold?”
Reid stops walking. I take a few steps before I notice and turn back. “What?” I ask.
He looks at me—jaw tight, shoulders tense. “You don’t know?”
I frown. “Don’t know what?”
He hesitates, like he’s debating how much to say. “She ran out after Finn…” He trails off.
My stomach drops. “Finn what?”
He looks even darker now, eyes narrowed. “Kissed her.”
“What.”
Reid nods, his voice flat, controlled—but the anger underneath it is obvious. “He kissed her. I saw it. She tried to pull away. Sloane saw it too.” His jaw clenches. “For a second, I thought Sloane was going to deck her. I’ve never seen her that angry.”
I swear under my breath, jaw tightening. My mind flashes back to the poker game I played at the back of the bar, wondering how the hell I missed all this. “Why would Sloane be pissed at Madeline?” I mutter. “Finn’s the one who—”
Reid just shakes his head. “I don’t know. But Madeline ran out before anything worse happened.”
“And Finn?”
“He was hammered,” Reid says. “Didn’t even realize how bad it was. Probably still doesn’t. I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.”
I exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Fuck.”
The thought of her crying in that bar, of Finn’s hands on her when she didn’t want them—it lights something ugly in me. Something I haven’t felt in years.
“She didn’t want it?” I ask quietly, though I already know the answer.
Reid shakes his head. “I asked her. She said no.”
That single word hits harder than I expect.
“Then yeah,” I say after a long pause, voice low. “We’re gonna have to deal with that.”
Reid’s eyes flick toward me, dark and sharp.
Neither of us says the words out loud, but we both know what deal with that means.
And as we walk the last stretch back to the bar, I can’t help thinking—if Finn even looks at her the wrong way again, he’s going to learn the hard way why everyone in Northhaven knows not to cross the twins.
When we reach the Seafoam again, the sound hits first—music still pulsing low, laughter spilling from the back, glasses clinking. The night didn’t slow down just because everything went to hell an hour ago.
Reid pushes open the door first, and I follow him inside. The air smells like liquor, citrus, and the sea that never quite leaves anyone’s skin here. The lights are lower now, softer, golden. But the mood shifts the second people notice us.
Because there, at the bar, is Finn.
He’s got a water bottle in one hand, slouched between Liam and Charlie like he’s trying to melt into the counter. Sloane’s a few feet away, arms crossed, her face still tight with anger. The rest of the team is talking, trying to act normal, but there’s a tension there—thick enough to taste.
Then Finn turns and sees us.
The color drains from his face instantly.
White as the foam on the waves.
He goes still, frozen, eyes darting between me and Reid like a cornered animal.
Reid doesn’t say a word. He just stares at him—expression unreadable, dark, cold in a way that makes even me feel it. His jaw ticks once, slow, deliberate.
I stay a step behind him, arms crossed, letting the silence stretch. Because Reid doesn’t need to say anything for Finn to get the message.