Chapter 19: Madeline
By the time the soft light starts creeping through the slats in my curtain, I’m already halfway awake. The house groans quietly, old pipes stretching awake, floorboards sighing as someone moves around upstairs.
It’s only my second full morning here, but there’s something strangely grounding in knowing the rhythm of this place already. The cold still bites when I swing my legs out of bed — enough to make me move faster — but it doesn’t startle me like yesterday. The wind outside still hisses through the trees, but I don’t brace against it anymore. I just pull on a thick sweater, my fleece-lined coat, and tuck a knit hat into my bag, just in case.
I beat Finn and Liam to the washroom, which feels like a tiny victory. By the time I’ve brushed my teeth, braided my hair, and layered on some mascara, there are familiar voices behind the door and the dull thud of boots hitting the floorboards. I don’t wait around. I head downstairs, my socks slipping slightly on the stairs, and make a beeline for the kitchen.
It’s quiet. The morning kind of quiet that feels like a held breath.
I flick on the light over the counter and pull two slices of bread from the shelf marked “M. Quinn” in black Sharpie. It's already smudged, like the label's been there longer than I have. Everyone has a shelf. Charlie explained it yesterday — how meals aren’t always shared, and schedules get messy once the season kicks in. Different boats, different routes, different tides.
You learn to fend for yourself.
Still, I bought a few things yesterday. Bread. Jam. A few easy proteins. Tea. Just enough to say I'm here. I exist. I belong.
The toaster clicks, and I spread blackberry jam onto the warm bread, the scent blooming into the air. I pack a protein bar into my bag, just in case I miss lunch. Probably will.
The back door creaks open behind me just as I take my first bite.
Finn strides in, already dressed — cargo pants, a thick hoodie with the SWMRI logo stitched into the chest, sleeves shoved to his elbows. His boots are slung over one shoulder, beanie already on. He looks more like someone headed into a battle than to work.
“Morning,” he says, brushing a hand through his messy hair before reaching for his boots.
“Hi,” I say, mouth still half full. “You’re up early.”
“Reid’s already there,” he replies, pulling his boots on without sitting down. “Said he wants to get at least part of the crew briefed before we head out.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Do you ever just… ease into a day?”
Finn shrugs, grabs his backpack. “Not when the boss forgets how to sleep.”
I toss him the second protein bar from the box on my shelf. He catches it midair and gives me one of those quick, crooked grins that makes it feel like we’ve been doing this for years.
“Look at you,” he says, peeling back the wrapper. “Already learning the essentials: layers and snacks.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, and he winks once before heading out the door, hoodie flapping behind him.
A few seconds later, Charlie walks in, still in pajamas, hair twisted into a loose bun, a coffee already in hand. She leans against the doorframe, watching the now-quiet kitchen with a small smile.
“I think Finn and Liam like you,” she says, voice teasing but not unkind.
I pretend to look scandalized. “Already? I’ve only been here two days.”
She laughs, curling up into the nearest chair. “Trust me. That’s long enough.”
I sip from my mug and lean against the counter. “Well, I like them too. They’re… loud. But funny.”
“You get used to them,” she says, then adds with a raised brow, “Though I should probably say — if they ever try to flirt, it’s just a reflex. They flirt with fish.”
“I’ll try not to take it personally.”
She grins behind her mug.
“Ever had anything… love-related here?” I ask before I can stop myself. It slips out too easily.
Charlie lifts one shoulder in a slow shrug, eyes thoughtful over the rim of her cup. “Not with them. Liam’s too much like a little brother, and Finn — well, he doesn’t let anyone close for long. He’s charming until you ask him how he feels about anything.”
“But?” I ask.
Charlie pauses — just enough that I know there is a “but.” She stirs her coffee absently.
“But let’s just say… boat crews get close. It’s inevitable. You live in close quarters, see each other at your worst, and still come back the next day. It’s not nothing.”
I nod slowly, choosing not to push. She didn’t close the door on that thought, but she didn’t open it wide either.
Before I can say anything else, heavy steps sound overhead and then thunder down the stairs.
Liam enters, yawning like it might kill him. His hair is sticking up in five different directions and there’s a smear of toothpaste at the edge of his mouth. He reaches for the fridge and grabs a drinkable yogurt, twisting the cap with one eye still closed.
He looks over at me, sees the coat already slung over my arm. “I’ll walk you.”
I blink. “You don’t have to.”
“I’m going that way anyway,” he says through a mouthful of yogurt. “Unless you want to risk getting lost and ending up on a fishing trawler to Nova Scotia.”
I give him a slow look. “Tempting.”
Charlie’s giggling again behind us. I look at her. “You coming too?”
She shakes her head. “Admin day. Payroll and reporting. Wish I could trade places, though. You're getting real ocean time today.”
“Don’t jinx it,” I say, but the thought sparks something warm in my chest.
Liam grabs his jacket, still yawning. I grab my bag.
And just like that, we’re out the door — walking back toward the sea.