Chapter 148: Madeline

Chapter 148: Madeline
The next week is… eventful.
That’s the polite, emotionally-neutral way to say it.
The real way to say it is: I haven’t stopped moving long enough to think straight.

The first two days were spent trying to recover the damn Dtag from the blue whale. We didn’t. It’s lost somewhere in the endless deep — a very expensive sacrifice to the Atlantic gods, I guess.
But the silver lining? The whales were still there.

Seeing them again — really seeing them — never stops being breathtaking. They move like something sacred, like the ocean bends itself to make space for them. Even after all the chaos of the last week, standing on the deck and watching the spout catch the light feels like starting over. Reid and Jake looked as happy as I’ve ever seen them — both of them quiet in that way they get when they’re around the creatures they love most.
And Charlie came with us one day too. She stood at the bow like she was seeing magic for the first time. Honestly, it was magic.

The twins, though…
They’ve barely had a second to breathe. Between adapting the new scuba gear setup and all their calls with the research center about the porpoises from a few weeks ago, they’ve either been buried in meetings or working on the boats past sundown.
And me? I’ve been buried in data.

Nonstop data.
Dolphin frequencies. Whale call patterns. Movement logs. You name it.

At home, it’s… good, actually.
Charlie and I have gotten closer — the kind of close where she comes into my room at night and flops on my bed just to complain about something she saw online or talk about movies. We laugh a lot. It feels easy, like she’s the sister I didn’t know I needed.

Finn is back to his usual self too — goofy, loud, impossible not to smile at. Whatever awkwardness was hanging over us after that night is gone, melted into jokes and banter and his never-ending playlists that drive Sloane insane.

Speaking of Sloane…
Yeah.

I’ve perfected the art of avoiding her.

At home, I sit as far as possible from her. At work, it’s easier — either Jake or Reid captains most days. The two days Sloane had the helm, Reid happened to be on the boat too. Coincidence? Probably not.
I’ve tried being nice. I really have. But she’s made it perfectly clear — she hated me from the moment she first saw me, and now she just hates me more.
So, fine. I’ll stay out of her way.

And with all that — the work, the tension, the never-ending noise — I’ve barely had time to talk to the twins about us.
Whatever this is.

But I’ve had time to think about it.
Especially alone at night.

And every time I do, I find myself liking the idea more.
The memory of their hands, their mouths, their voices saying my name… it comes back in flashes, warm and wild and uninvited.

Sometimes it’s just Reid — that low, knowing voice of his, the heat in his gaze that feels like gravity.
Sometimes it’s Jake — calm, deliberate, his touch firm and grounding, the way he looks at me like I’m a problem he never wants to solve.
And most of the time, it’s both.
And that’s when I have to bury my face in a pillow and curse myself, because my thoughts go somewhere… less than professional.

Still, there’ve been moments.

One afternoon, I was in the wheelhouse with Reid, just the two of us. I had come up to him because a piece of equipment wouldn’t connect properly, and before I knew it, he had me sitting on his lap so he could pry it from my hands to fix it.
His thighs strong and hard beneath my weight. His breath warm against my neck.
When he finally got it working, he didn’t let me go right away. Instead, he leaned in and nipped at the side of my neck — sharp, quick — then soothed the spot with his tongue.
It stole the air right from my lungs. He let me go with a low chuckle that made me wish we weren't on the boat, but at his house instead.

Then there was Jake.
We were wrapping up for the day, the rest of the team already heading off. He’d been working on something mechanical, grease on his forearm, shirt half unbuttoned — I still don’t know how he makes exhaustion look that good.
Before I could leave, he reached out, tucked my hair behind my ear, held my waist through my jacket, and pressed a soft kiss to my mouth. Short. Controlled. But it stayed with me the rest of the night.

None of it’s been like what happened that afternoon at their SWMRI house. But the touches, the glances, the quiet heat between us — it’s growing. It’s… constant.
And still, when it’s time to work, they switch seamlessly into professional mode.

So, yeah. Busy week.
Busy, complicated, exhilarating week.
And if my heart races a little every time one of them says my name, well — I’m not sure I want that to change.

And now Saturday night settles over Northhaven like a heavy blanket.
The air smells faintly of salt through the open window, and somewhere outside, I can hear the creak of the dock shifting with the tide. Inside, the house feels soft, slow—Liam’s watching something on TV, Charlie’s humming in her room, and I’m sitting at the table with my laptop and half a dozen scattered charts.

I’m supposed to be winding down. It’s Saturday. But my brain won’t shut off.

The glow from my screen blurs in my tired eyes as I scroll through another set of readings, muttering to myself, “Come on… come on, this can’t be right.”
It’s nothing new—late-night overthinking, overanalyzing data until I start seeing shapes that aren’t there. But then—

Something hits me.

Like an electric shock straight to my chest.

I freeze. My finger hovers over the mouse. My eyes dart between columns, cross-checking numbers, patterns, timestamps. My heart starts racing so fast it’s almost painful.

“No way,” I whisper.
I double-check. Triple-check.
“No way.”

It doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t make sense.
But it’s there.

My pulse is pounding now. I grab my notebook, flip through pages so fast they tear at the edges. I need to make sure I’m not losing my mind. The lines match. The data matches. I can feel it in my gut—the kind of feeling you get when something huge is staring you in the face, and you’re the only one who’s noticed.

“Holy shit…”

Charlie appears at the edge of the stairs, toothbrush in hand, eyes squinting at me. “What’s going on?”

“I—uh—nothing—” My voice cracks. I can’t form words.

Liam glances up from the couch, eyebrow raised. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have,” I say under my breath, searching the table frantically. “Where’s my phone—where’s—”

“Counter,” Charlie says, pointing.

I grab it so fast it nearly slips from my hand. My fingers are shaking. I scroll through my contacts until I find his name. My thumb hesitates for half a second, then I hit Call.

It rings once. Twice.

“Madeline?” Jake’s voice comes through—low, rough, like he was just about to go to bed.

“Hey,” I say, breathless. “I’m sorry to call so late.” I look back at my screen, the numbers blurring, heart still pounding. “But this… this can’t wait.”

There’s a pause. His voice softens, but there’s a new edge to it—alert, careful. “What’s wrong?”

“I just—” I exhale shakily. “Can you meet me?”

“Where?”

“The house,” I say. “Please. I’ll explain when you get here.”

Another pause. Then, quietly—
“We're on our way.”

The call ends. My hand’s still trembling when I lower the phone.

Whatever this is… whatever I just found…
It’s not small.