Chapter 139: Madeline

Chapter 139: Madeline
The next morning, I wake up feeling like I barely slept at all.

Last night replayed in loops through my head—sometimes sweet, sometimes terrifying, always too vivid.

I was almost asleep when Charlie came home, cheeks flushed from the walk and eyes still sharp from whatever lecture she’d given Finn. She knocked softly before slipping into my room and sitting on the edge of the bed. Her first question was quiet but loaded: “How do you feel?”

So I told her.

About Finn. About how shocked I’d been. About how I didn’t think he saw me that way, and how I didn’t see him that way. I told her I was fine, just shaken, and she nodded, her expression soft but fierce—like she wanted to protect me and slap him at the same time.

What I didn’t tell her was that Reid followed me outside.
Or that he kissed me.
Or that I let him.

I did, however, tell her that I thought she and Reid were dating.

Her face twisted like I’d said something foul. “Ew. Absolutely not.”

The sheer disgust in her tone made me burst into laughter, and just like that, the heaviness in the air thinned a little. She stayed until I promised I was okay, then went to bed herself.

But I wasn’t okay. Not really.

The second I fell asleep, my brain turned into chaos. Dreams and nightmares followed one another all night.

First, it was Reid—his mouth on mine again, the heat of his hands, the taste of him, the sound he made when I pulled him closer. Then Jake, sun-warmed and shirtless, carrying me at the beach, his hands gripping the back of my thighs. Then the coyote—those eerie yellow eyes watching me from the dark, his teeth closing around my throat. Then Sloane, furious and violent, shoving me into a wall, her fist raised—

Then Reid again. And Jake. Always them.

It went on like that for hours—pleasure and fear tangled so tightly together I couldn’t tell which was which. When dawn finally came, I was sweating, tangled in my sheets, pulse racing.

I lie there for a while, trying to catch my breath, until I hear whispering through the thin wall that separates my room from the hallway.

Finn.

I grab my phone and text him.
Me: Are you awake?
Finn: Yeah, why?
Me: Come in for a sec.

A few seconds later, there’s a soft knock, and then he’s standing in my doorway.

He looks wrecked—hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, like he didn’t sleep either. He’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, but the guilt clinging to him makes him look smaller somehow.

I don’t say anything at first. I just get up and walk over, then wrap my arms around his waist.

He freezes for half a second—then exhales and hugs me back, strong and desperate.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into my hair. “I could say it was because I was drunk last night, but that’d be bullshit. I would’ve wanted to kiss you sober too. I just… I hate the way I did it. I hate that I made you feel like that.”

I pull back and look up at him. His face says everything—regret, confusion, shame. He looks like he’s been carrying it all night.

I smile softly. “Hey. It’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not.”

“It is,” I insist. “I wasn’t expecting it, sure, but… I didn’t think you saw me that way. And I guess I was enjoying our friendship too much to even think about it.” I shrug. “But I’m not mad at you.”

He blinks. “You’re not?”

I shrug. “You’re a decent kisser.”

That gets a choked laugh out of him. “Decent? Decent?!” He tickles my side and I yelp, giggling, trying to push him off.

The tension breaks for a second.

Then his expression softens again. “Can you forgive me?”

“I already have,” I say honestly. “And I mean it—you're a great friend. I love living with you, hanging out, all of it. I don’t want this to be awkward. Just… Finn and Mads again. Like before.”

Something in him eases. His shoulders drop, and the smallest, most genuine smile spreads on his face.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he says quietly.

I giggle, shrugging.

He hugs me again—warm, familiar, safe.

For a second, I let myself sink into it.

And I mean it. Every word.

I do love Finn. And Liam, too. Just… not like that.

It’s this soft, warm kind of love — the kind that feels easy, like sunlight through the window. The kind that comes from laughter and shared secrets and all the stupid little things that make life feel normal again. They’re safe. I adore them for it.

Maybe — maybe — if the twins weren’t in the picture, if I had never met them, I could’ve fallen for Finn.
For the way he looks out for everyone. For how effortlessly fun he is, how flirty but never mean, how he makes even the dullest day feel lighter. I could’ve fallen for that, for him.

But Jake and Reid exist.

And that changes everything.

They’re not like anyone I’ve ever met — not even close. They’re… gravity.
It’s like they pull everything in — my thoughts, my breath, the blood rushing through my veins — until I don’t know where I end and where they begin.

Reid with his control and the quiet fury underneath it, the kind that feels dangerous and safe at the same time. Jake with his calm dominance, his steady confidence that says he knows exactly what he wants and how to get it.

They make me feel things I don’t have words for.
Things I didn’t even know existed inside me until them.

And now, they’ve ruined me. For other men. For normal.

Because when I think about being touched, I think of them.
When I imagine being wanted, I see their faces.

I lie back on my bed after Finn leaves, the faint morning light seeping through the curtains, and I can’t help it — I smile a little.