Chapter 32: Madeline
The watermelon doesn’t last long. Between Charlie gnawing at hers like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted and Liam stuffing piece after piece into his mouth, we’re left with sticky fingers, red-stained sand, and grins that don’t feel forced.
Charlie wipes her hands on her shorts, springs up, and kicks off her sandals. “Alright,” she declares, “time for the ocean.”
I sit up straighter. “Wait—you’re actually going in?”
“Obviously,” she says, already jogging toward the waterline.
“Charlie,” Finn calls after her, voice flat with disbelief, “it’s the North Atlantic. Not the Bahamas.”
“Don’t care!” she shouts, and with zero hesitation, dives straight into the next rolling wave.
The shock of it makes me wince in sympathy. The water has to be eight degrees, maybe less. She comes up sputtering, hair plastered to her face, and yells, “It’s perfect! Come on, cowards!”
Liam laughs, kicks off his shoes, and bolts after her. Finn doesn’t even move.
“Oh no you don’t,” Liam says when he notices, splashing back out and grabbing Finn’s wrist.
Finn digs in his heels. “Liam, think carefully about what you’re doing.”
But Liam’s already laughing too hard, dragging him inch by inch toward the water like it’s a wrestling match.
“Traitor!” Finn barks, but Liam manages to yank him far enough that a wave crashes over both of them. When Finn surfaces, his hair is dripping, his scowl ferocious—but Liam is doubled over laughing too hard to breathe.
“You’re dead,” Finn growls, splashing him full in the face.
From the sand, I can’t stop laughing. The whole scene is ridiculous, and my stomach hurts from watching them.
Then Liam turns and cups his hands around his mouth. “What about you, Mads? Gonna stay dry all day?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Someone’s gotta guard the towels,” I call back.
“Lame excuse!” he shouts, grinning. “We’ll come get you if we have to.”
Charlie splashes him, still bobbing in the surf. “Leave her alone—let her work up to it.”
But Finn, dripping and smirking, yells, “Nah, I vote we drag her in.”
“Don’t you dare,” I say, laughing nervously even as I hug my knees tighter to my chest.
They’re probably kidding. Probably.
The wind whips my hair into my face as I watch them, three figures playing in water cold enough to make most people cry. And for a flicker of a second, I want to run down there too—let the shock steal my breath, let the freezing waves remind me I’m alive.
But for now, I stay put, grinning so hard my cheeks ache.
Eventually, the commotion in the surf slows. Charlie floats on her back, hair fanned out like dark seaweed, humming something to herself. Finn wades waist-deep, shaking the water out of his hair with both hands. Liam’s crouched like a kid, cupping water and tossing it just to see how far the splash goes.
I hug my knees tighter, watching them.
It’s strange—how different they look here.
Charlie, who’s usually the sharp voice of reason at the institute, biting down on deadlines and paperwork, looks carefree. Laughing. Not serious, not practical—just herself, light and alive in the waves.
The boys, too. I’m used to seeing Finn with hands stained black from engine soot, Liam’s palms rubbed raw from the ropes. Always moving, always working. But here, stripped of their heavy boots and oil-stained sweaters, they look younger. Softer.
Just people.
Not the crew, not coworkers, not the ones who tease and test me every morning. Just three friends in the water on a rare summer day, grinning at each other like nothing else exists.
Something inside me loosens at the sight. Like maybe I’ve been holding my breath all week without realizing it.
The afternoon melts into something soft and golden. We sprawl out on towels, skin drying salty and tight, hair tangled from the wind. Charlie lies on her stomach, chin propped on her fists, sunglasses tilted just enough to let her watch everyone without being obvious.
Conversation drifts the way waves do—sometimes crashing loud, sometimes barely a ripple. Movies we’ve all seen a dozen times, old gossip about Northhaven, ridiculous debates about which superhero would last longest on a lobster boat. Liam insists it’s Batman. Charlie says Aquaman. Finn argues it’s obviously Iron Man, just to get a rise out of her.
At some point, Charlie complains about the price of blueberries, which turns into a whole tangent about how produce here is either shipped in at a premium or grown in someone’s backyard. Liam tells me in earnest that the one grocery store in town once ran out of bananas for three weeks straight.
“It was chaos,” he says gravely.
Charlie groans, tossing a piece of taffy wrapper at him. “You survived.”
“Barely.”
We laugh until our stomachs hurt, until the sun shifts and shadows stretch long across the sand. My skin is warm, my hair smells like salt, and for the first time in so long, I’m not waiting for something bad to happen.
By the time the sky turns pink at the edges, Charlie stretches out with a groan. “Alright, before the sun ditches us and the mosquitoes find us, we should head back.”
Liam sits up, brushing sand off his arms. “Yeah. Don’t wanna stumble home in the dark.”
Finn smirks, scooping up the empty taffy wrappers. “And we definitely don’t want to test Madeline’s navigation skills again.”
Charlie grins, catching on. “True. We wouldn’t want the boss to have to give you another ride.”
My cheeks burn instantly. “Oh my god.”
Liam laughs so hard he nearly trips over his towel. “Yeah, picture it—Anderson’s face if he had to save you twice in one week.”
“Stop,” I say, half mortified, half laughing despite myself. “You’re awful.”
“Hey, we’re just looking out for you,” Finn says, all innocence, though his grin gives him away.
I shake my head, but the teasing lingers in the air as we gather our things and start the walk back, still warm from the sun, still sticky with salt and watermelon, still smiling like the day had been made just for us.