Chapter 164: Madeline
I didn’t realize just how cold I’d been until the warmth hit me.
Not that this house was exactly cozy—there’s no electricity, no real heat beyond a battery-powered heater humming in the corner and the weak orange flicker of candlelight—but it was safe. Dry. And filled with people who cared if I lived or died.
That alone made it feel warmer than anything else ever could.
I sink into the corner of the couch, knees pulled up, arms hugging around them. The joggers I’m wearing are miles too big, pooled around my ankles and hips, but they’re soft. Reid’s shirt hangs off me like a nightgown, sleeves swallowing my hands, and smells like cedarwood and storm air. If I closed my eyes, I could just fall asleep in it. Right here, with the storm still raging outside.
Jake and Reid had both gone upstairs to change out of their soaked clothes a few minutes ago, and now they’re back, dry and towering and radiating that strange, grounding calm I didn’t know I needed until now.
Jake nods toward Finn, still nursing his temple. “Okay,” he says, tone more serious now. “What happened?”
Sloane doesn’t miss a beat.
“I told you. It was Madeline.”
I feel the heat rise to my cheeks before her voice even finishes echoing off the walls. My stomach twists into something tight and awful. I look down at my knees, suddenly finding the baggy fabric of Reid’s pants very interesting.
“I didn’t mean to,” I say quietly, barely above a whisper. “The power had just cut out and I—I was scared. Finn banged on my door, I didn’t know it was him. I was still half-asleep. I thought…”
I trail off.
Sloane scoffs. “You attacked him. That’s what happened.”
My eyes sting. The candlelight blurs.
“I didn’t know it was him,” I repeat, more to myself than to anyone else. “I couldn’t see. It was pitch black.”
“He literally said your name, Madeline—” she starts, her voice tired, raw, a little hoarse.
“No, I—” I lift my head.
But then Finn lifts a hand to stop Sloane and sits forward, exhaling hard like he’s too exhausted to be annoyed.
“No,” he says. “That’s not how it happened.”
Everyone turns to look at him. He runs a hand through his hair, then winces when his fingers brush the forming bruise.
“My voice sounds different, okay? I’ve been sick all day, throat’s fucked, and I was shouting because of the wind. I pounded on her door because I was worried. She wasn’t answering and I thought—I don’t know, I thought something happened to her.”
He shrugs, voice softer now. “I forced the door open. She was in the corner. Curled up. I didn’t think. I just rushed in straight at her.”
I can feel Reid and Jake tense across the room, even without looking.
“I couldn’t see anything,” I say quietly. “I just… I panicked. I didn’t know who it was. I thought it was…”
I stop again. Swallow hard. The lump in my throat is like a rock.
“I tried to push him away. Kick. Hit. I didn’t know.”
Finn lets out a quiet, almost amused huff. “You landed one hit before I pinned you down. Pretty good one too, for someone so tiny.”
Jake mutters something under his breath I can’t hear. Reid’s jaw is set, eyes narrowed. Neither of them seem to appreciate the mental image, no matter how innocent.
Charlie clears her throat. “I went in after. I’d heard the screaming. And honestly? If I hadn’t known it was Finn, I probably would’ve reacted the same way.”
Her voice is gentle, kind. I can feel her eyes on me—knowing.
She’s the only one here who knows. About that night in my dorm. The blackout. The banging at my door. The screaming of my name. The way he tried to break in—to hurt me. To make me pay.
I think she can see it in me now. The way I’m folding in on myself, arms tight, shoulders tense. That I’m not here-here. Not fully.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Finn again, throat tight, tears burning.
Finn stands, walks the few steps across the room, and hugs me. Tight. Warm. Brotherly.
“It’s all good, Mads,” he says, voice rasping near my ear. “I should’ve been gentler. I scared you. That’s on me.”
I nod into his chest. Grateful. Embarrassed. Guilty.
When he pulls back, Charlie’s still watching me. She doesn’t say anything—but her gaze says it all.
She knows what that moment meant for me.
The mood lightens a little—just enough to breathe again—when the twins both sigh at once, exhaustion creeping into their frames like they’ve only now let their guards down.
Jake shifts his weight, looking at Finn. “You good? Head hurting?”
Reid folds his arms and squints, the soft glow of the battery lantern casting sharp shadows on his jaw. “You need anything? Ice pack, Tylenol?”
Finn waves them both off like they’re being dramatic. “Okay, yes, she landed a hit, sure. But it was like…” He pauses, lifts one hand and taps his own temple, deadpan. “The equivalent of a kitten smacking you with its paw.”
A small burst of laughter pops around the room—Charlie’s wheeze, Liam’s stifled snort. Even Jake chuckles.
But I’m still tense, frozen, still feeling the sting of my mistake. My cheeks burn with the humiliation.
“I’m fine,” Finn says again, catching my eye this time. “Seriously. Doesn’t feel like anything.”
Jake nods slowly. “Alright. Liam?”
Liam, who's leaned back against the arm of the couch, groans as he rolls one shoulder. “Yeah, actually… If you guys have that numbing muscle cream or whatever? I’d kill for that right now.”
Jake points toward the hall. “I’ll grab it.”
He disappears up the stairs, and for a moment the room quiets again—just the sound of the storm still wailing outside, the whistling wind through the cracks of the windows.
Reid's gaze does a slow sweep over everyone. “Anyone else hurt?”
There’s a chorus of heads shaking, all murmurs of “no” or “I’m good,” but then Charlie blurts:
“She is.”
Three sets of eyes whip toward me—Charlie’s, Finn’s, and Liam’s.
“You’re most definitely hurt after that branch,” Charlie says.
“Yeah,” Liam adds, “It hit her hard. Knocked her down like bam. I thought for a second she blacked out.”
Finn winces on my behalf. “Looked nasty.”
Reid turns to me fast. “How big was that fucking branch?”
I blink. “I—it’s fine. It’s not that—”
“Madeline,” Charlie says, voice sharp but kind. “Just show us, please.”
I hesitate, fingers gripping the hem of the hoodie. Every instinct in me says don’t make this a thing. Don’t cause a scene.
But I catch the look on Reid’s face—tight, worried, that quiet storm of protectiveness brewing behind his eyes—and I know I’m not getting out of this one.
I exhale and slowly lift the hoodie, wincing as the fabric pulls over the spot. The chill air hits my skin, and even before anyone reacts, I can see it. A wide, ugly bruise blooming across my left side, purple and red and splotchy.
The collective inhale around the room is loud.
“Jesus Christ,” Charlie breathes.
“Holy shit,” Finn mutters.
Even Sloane, who’s been leaning back with her arms crossed and her usual I’ve-seen-worse face, raises her eyebrows. “That’s… bad.”
I yank the shirt down quickly, my face burning. “It looks worse than it feels,” I mutter.
“Don’t lie,” Liam says. “You could barely stand after it hit you.”
Reid’s voice is low and rough. “We’re checking that properly after everyone eats.”
I nod, too tired to argue.
Jake comes back in just then, tossing the numbing cream to Liam—who catches it with one hand and groans when he moves too fast—and glances at the tension in the room.
“What’d I miss?”
“Her ribs,” Finn says. “She’s got a bruise the size of a dinner plate.”
Jake’s eyes dart to me, then to Reid, who’s still tense like he’s seconds from losing his cool.
“Well, shit,” Jake mutters. “Okay. First, warm food. Then first aid.”
And just like that, the house starts to move again—Jake heading to the kitchen to see what they can heat up without a stove, Charlie tossing more blankets down, Finn and Liam bickering over who’s more beat up.
And Reid… he’s still watching me.
As if he didn’t already vow the storm wouldn’t touch me.
Now, I think he’s making another vow—this time, to never let anything else hurt me either.