Chapter 158: Jake
The sailboat's already slipping under the surface by the time I reach the top deck.
If we’d been five minutes later… I don’t even want to think about it.
I shut the door to the wheelhouse and push back my dripping hair, breath heavy in my chest. The warmth inside hits me like a wall—and then I see her.
Madeline.
Her face is pale, her mouth trembling like she’s trying to keep it together, but her eyes—her eyes are shining with unshed tears, wide and full of raw panic.
And Reid—he’s steering the boat with one hand, the other locked tight around her waist like he refuses to let her go.
My stomach sinks. “What’s wrong?”
A dozen worst-case scenarios slam through my brain. Did she fall while I was gone? Is it hypothermia? Is she in pain? Hurt? Did we miss something when we pulled that guy out of the water?
But Reid meets my gaze over her head, jaw tight. “She thought something happened to you.”
That knocks the air right out of me.
I look at her again, really look—and yeah. She’s shaking. Fighting not to cry. Her lips press together like she’s angry at herself for feeling this much.
“Hey,” I say softly, stepping closer.
She looks up at me, breath stuttering—and that’s it. I pull her into my arms.
“I’m okay,” I murmur into her wet hair. “I swear, I’m fine. I’ve done this more times than I can count.”
She’s trying to hold it back, but her shoulders shake and her hands grip my soaked shirt. She doesn’t sob out loud, but it’s there, just under the surface. And it guts me.
I hold her tighter, feeling her heartbeat through her clothes. “It’s over. We got him. Everyone’s safe.”
She nods against my chest but doesn’t let go.
Reid’s voice comes from behind her. “What happened?”
I answer without looking up, still holding her. “Old guy went out alone. Thought the weather was fine like the rest of us. Didn’t have time to reef his sails before the wind picked up. He lost control.”
“Shouldn’t have been on a sailboat that size alone,” Reid mutters.
“No shit. Lucky he didn’t go down with it.” I pause, then add, “Liam’s with him in the lounge now. He’s breathing, responsive, but we should radio for paramedics at the dock.”
Reid nods, but my attention’s still on Madeline. She’s a little calmer now, but still cold. Still soaked.
And it hits me that she’s standing there in wet clothes, shivering, her soaked shirt clinging to her skin.
I stroke her back and pull back slightly, brushing some wet strands from her forehead. “Hey,” I say gently, “we need to warm you up, okay?”
She blinks up at me, confused. “What?”
I reach past her and yank down the blind on the small window in the door, the snap of it falling into place sharp in the tense air. She jumps a little. My hand stays close, but I don’t touch her just yet.
“I need you to understand something,” I murmur, voice low, rough from cold and restraint. “If we weren’t in the middle of this storm—if Reid and I didn’t need every ounce of focus to get us home safe—I'd be warming you up in a way that has nothing to do with a dry hoodie.”
Her breath hitches. Those wide eyes flash up to mine, already glassy from the fear she felt minutes ago, but now there’s something else behind them too—heat. Curiosity. Want.
“I’d lay you out right here,” I continue, stepping in closer until her back brushes the edge of the navigation console. “Take my damn time. Mouth on every inch of your freezing skin, hands where you’re aching, until your body’s too warm to even remember what cold feels like.”
She exhales shakily, lips parting, chest rising against the soaked fabric of her shirt. Her fingers twitch like she wants to reach for me.
“But we’re not doing that. Not now,” I finish, dragging in a sharp breath like it physically pains me to stop. “So let me do the next best thing.”
I crouch a little and pull a dry SWMRI hoodie from the emergency stash under the cabinet. “Arms up.”
She moves slowly, lifting her arms. The soaked shirt clings to her body as I peel it off, and for half a second, I forget how to breathe. She’s glistening with sea spray, her bra half-transparent, her skin flushed from the cold. Every instinct in me screams to touch her, taste her, worship her—but I shove the hoodie over her head with more force than necessary, dragging the fabric down and covering her before I lose whatever discipline I have left.
Reid mutters something under his breath behind me. I don’t even look at him. I’m too focused on the girl in front of me. The one who almost had me abandoning the wheel to run into the storm after her. The one I’d tear the sea apart for, if it meant keeping her safe.
I take one step back from her—because if I don’t, I won’t remember we’re in a fucking storm and not some locked cabin with hours to burn.
“Reid,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my wet hair, jaw clenched. “I’ll take the wheel.”
He nods, reading the tension in my shoulders, and steps aside. His clothes are soaked through like mine, rain still dripping from his hair as he moves to the seat just beside me. He glances toward Madeline—drowning in the oversized SWMRI hoodie, sleeves hanging over her hands, her eyes still glassy from everything she’s felt today—and gives a single nod.
“Come here,” he says, low and rough, his voice gentled only for her.
She moves slowly toward him, silent as she comes close. And then—God help me—he parts his legs and guides her between them, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. She melts into the space like she belongs there. Like she was made for this exact spot.
Reid’s hands curve protectively over her hips, and he shifts just enough to make sure she’s steady while the boat rocks under us again. Her thighs press into his soaked jeans, but she doesn’t care. She’s warmer now. Dryer. And more importantly—she’s safe.