Chapter 18: Madeline
Dinner stretched longer than I expected — in a good way.
Between second helpings and third rounds of wine, the conversation wandered from weather forecasts to engine repairs to some mechanical issue on The Vigil I didn’t fully understand, though I nodded like I did. Sloane arrived halfway through the meal, still in her work jacket, cheeks pink from the wind. She didn’t say much when she first sat, just muttered a thanks when I passed her a plate and started eating like she hadn’t all day.
Now the plates are stacked neatly at the far end of the table, forks and knives still resting on them, waiting to be dealt with. The overhead light buzzes faintly, and there’s music playing low from someone’s phone — something old, probably Charlie’s playlist. It hums beneath the sound of conversation and the occasional scrape of a chair on the wood floor.
We’re all still gathered around the table — me, Charlie, Sloane, Finn, Liam. Someone pulled out a deck of cards twenty minutes ago, and now we’re mid-round of a game I’ve only just learned the rules to. It’s fast, loud, occasionally chaotic. I’m losing.
Badly.
Charlie tosses a card down with a triumphant flick of her wrist. “That’s four points for me.”
Liam groans. “How are you good at this and good at math?”
“I’m not,” Charlie says, smiling. “I just know how to ruin your life one round at a time.”
Finn’s already shuffling the next hand, rings glinting on his fingers, the deck moving effortlessly between his hands like he’s done it since childhood.
“This game makes no sense,” I say, looking down at my remaining cards. “Is the goal to win or to cause chaos?”
Finn raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”
They all laugh.
I laugh too — quietly, but genuinely. My body is warm from the food and the wine and the noise of it all. I can still smell the garlic I roasted earlier and the lemon from the dish soap someone used to clean a pan. My seat creaks every time I shift.
I don’t know when the last time was that I felt this… steady.
But then Sloane glances up from her cards and says, casually, like she’s asking about the weather, “So what did you say to Reid, anyway? He was in a pissy mood this afternoon.”
It feels like a window slammed shut.
I blink. “What?”
Sloane shrugs, leans back in her chair. “He came back from the diner all wound up. Snapped at one of the harbor hands. Told Charlie to ‘deal with payroll later or don't bother.’” She throws a glance toward Charlie. “Figured maybe he didn’t like something you said.”
My stomach dips. I sit up straighter. “I didn’t really… say anything.”
Charlie looks up quickly. “It wasn’t her,” she says, firm. “He’s just been tense since the boat was out of commission. He takes it out on whoever’s closest.”
“Still,” Sloane says, unbothered, “if she can’t handle Reid, she’s not gonna like her summer.”
The table quiets slightly.
I try not to fidget. “Is he always like that?”
They glance at each other. It’s a very telling pause.
Finn snorts softly and tosses a card onto the table. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
Charlie gives me an apologetic smile. “He’s intense. Always has been. And when something’s off — like the engine, or a delayed sample, or god forbid someone forgets to log the water temp — he goes full nuclear. Doesn’t mean anything by it. He just… combusts.”
“He’s a control freak,” Liam offers, not unkindly. “Brilliant. But exhausting.”
“And loyal,” Charlie adds quickly. “He doesn’t leave when things get hard. He doubles down. Not many people would’ve stuck around to run this whole operation when the funding dropped last year.”
“His brother’s easier to deal with,” Finn says. “Does more of the behind-the-scenes work. The research, funding, all that.”
I nod slowly, tucking that away. There’s a swirl of questions I want to ask — about the other brother, about how long Reid’s been doing this, about how the hell someone ends up wound so tight they forget to be human — but I don’t ask any of them.
Instead, I pick up my next card. “So… are we still playing or what?”
The moment passes. Just like that, they let it go.
Liam groans. “If Charlie wins again, I’m filing a formal complaint.”
“To who?” Finn asks. “Reid?”
Charlie smirks. “Good luck with that.”
The cards shuffle again, laughter picks up, and the tension rolls back into something easier.
Still — somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear Sloane’s voice again. If you can’t handle Reid…
I shake it off.
I can handle a lot more than they think.
An hour later, the moon spills through the wide front windows, silver pooling on the floor like water. It catches on the edge of Liam’s jaw as he stands by the couch, stretching his arms above his head, hoodie riding up slightly over his stomach. He looks entirely content. Or maybe just wine-drunk.
“Alright,” Charlie announces, clapping her hands once. “I’m calling it. My brain is officially off-duty.”
“I think mine clocked out mid-lasagna,” Finn mutters, already halfway to the stairs.
I follow behind slowly, arms wrapped around myself, the leftover warmth of laughter still buzzing in my chest. I can feel the wine in my veins — not enough to dull me, just enough to soften the edges of everything.
Liam turns back toward me, his cheeks flushed, and grins. “Wanna ride?”
I blink. “What?”
“Piggyback. Upstairs. I’ll carry you.” He holds out his arms dramatically, like he’s presenting a game show prize. “It’s a full-service kind of house.”
I look at him, taking in his tall frame and lanky build — all limbs and mischief. “You’re sure you can manage that?”
“I carried a crate of engine parts up the wharf last week.”
“You also dropped it halfway up,” Finn calls over his shoulder.
“I was distracted by a crab,” Liam says, not even blinking. Then to me: “C’mon. You’re, what, ninety pounds?”
“More than that,” I say, laughing.
Charlie’s already halfway up the stairs, giggling into the sleeve of her sweater. “Let him try, but Finn — follow in case he drops her.”
Finn groans. “I swear, this is the weirdest roommate dynamic I’ve ever had.”
But he waits behind us, arms crossed, a dry smirk tugging at his mouth.
Liam turns around, bends down, and gestures for me to climb on. “Let’s go, Quinn. Trust fall.”
I hesitate. Just for a second. Then I place my hands on his shoulders and let him hook my arms around his neck. He shifts his weight, grabs my thighs, and lifts me like it’s nothing.
I yelp — and then I’m giggling, helplessly, as he stumbles slightly on the first step.
Charlie’s cackling at the top of the stairs now. “Don’t you dare drop her!”
“I’ve got her,” Liam says, huffing with exaggerated effort. “Light as sea foam.”
“Oh, that’s poetic,” Finn mutters behind us.
He climbs slowly, maybe more carefully than he needs to, and I rest my chin lightly against the top of his hoodie. It smells like laundry soap and salt air and something faintly citrusy. I’m too tired to question why that makes me feel safe.
At the top, he swings me gently down to my feet, landing me just in front of my door. He doesn’t let go immediately — just kind of steadies me like he’s not sure I’ve got solid footing yet.
I look up at him, still laughing a little. “Well. I stand corrected.”
“Told you,” he says, winking. “Strong like bull.”
Finn walks past us, shaking his head. “Drunk like sailor.”
“Same thing,” Liam says, grinning.
They both vanish into their shared room, the door clicking shut behind them with one last echo of laughter. And then it’s quiet.
I turn toward my door, one hand on the knob, and pause just long enough to let the silence sink in.
This house may be cold at night, the beds stiff, and the walls a little too thin — but tonight, it feels warm in the ways that matter.