Chapter 34: Madeline
Monday morning. Back to routine. The smell of burnt coffee and fried eggs drifts up the stairs, voices low and moving through the house like tides. Everyone’s awake, pulling on boots, clattering mugs.
But Saturday still clings to me. The sun, the sand, watermelon juice running sticky down my wrist. Laughing until my cheeks hurt. For one golden day, I felt like maybe I belonged, and it was perfect.
Sunday tore that apart.
I woke to shouting. Not playful. Not teasing. Sharp.
Sloane’s voice cutting through the kitchen:
“You never invite me to anything. Ever. And it’s worse since the new girl showed up.”
I froze on the landing. The new girl.
That’s me.
Heat crawled up my neck. I shouldn’t listen. But I couldn’t move.
Finn tried first. “Come on, you don’t even like the beach.”
“Yeah,” Sloane snapped, “but you can still invite me.”
Her tone hit like a slap. She wasn’t wrong. If it had been me, left behind, I’d have been furious too. Still, hearing it—hearing my presence used like a wedge—stung.
Liam chimed in, lighter. “We figured you’d rather sleep in. It’s not like we—”
“Don’t make excuses.” Her voice rose. “You all ran off to play happy family with her while I sat here like an idiot.”
I hugged the banister tighter. Her. Not Madeline. Not even my name.
Finn groaned. “God, you’re dramatic.”
“You’re thoughtless,” she shot back. “And it’s not new. This isn’t about her—it’s always been like this. Ever since you two decided I was too ‘serious’ for your fun.”
The silence that followed stretched so long I thought maybe they’d walk away. But then Liam sighed, boyish and appeasing. “Alright, truce. Why don’t we just go out for breakfast?”
Sloane scoffed. “Oh, sure. And bring her along, too?”
The words landed heavy, sour. I pressed myself back against the wall, like maybe if I could sink into the plaster I wouldn’t have to hear it.
Finn chuckled, trying to smooth the edges. “Don’t be jealous. You love us too much.”
Liam piled on. “Yeah, you’d be lost without us.”
A pause. Then Sloane’s grudging, “You’re insufferable.”
Which sounded a lot like okay.
I exhaled. Maybe I could sneak back into my room and pretend I hadn’t heard any of it. But that’s when Liam’s footsteps creaked on the stairs.
Panic lit through me—I darted back a few steps, only to realize I was still in shorts and a thin tank top. Too late. He spotted me.
His eyes went wide. For a split second he looked like a cartoon caught in headlights, mouth opening, closing, before he dragged his gaze away, ears pink. “Uh—hey.” He cleared his throat. “We were… we were gonna grab breakfast. Me, Finn, Sloane. You wanna come?”
My stomach twisted. I could feel Sloane’s glare through the walls, even if she hadn’t said a word yet.
I shook my head quickly. “No, thanks. I’ll just… review data for tomorrow. You guys have fun.”
Liam hesitated, almost like he wanted to argue. Then he shrugged, muttered, “Alright. By the way, Charlie went to the other house, so it's just you here,” and slipped out before I could answer.
And that was that.
I spent the whole day on my bed, hunched over pages, trying to read past the ache in my chest.
Now it’s Monday, and I tell myself I’m ready. I’ve gone through the numbers, found the threads worth tugging on. I’ve worked hard enough to prove I belong here.
Maybe today Reid will finally let me on the boat.
Maybe today he’ll actually hear me out.
We walk down the narrow street toward the docks, crossing the little bridge over the inlet where fishing boats bob like toys. I force myself to take it all in—the chipped paint on the houses, the angle of the street lamps, even the cracks in the boardwalk planks. Each step I catalog carefully, like I’m storing a map in my head. Next time I won’t get lost.
The smell of salt and diesel grows stronger as we reach the wharf. And then I see him.
Leaning over the railing at the stern of the boat, talking to an older man with weather-beaten skin. Broad shoulders in a tan bomber jacket with a shearling collar, dark jeans, a plain cap shading his face. The morning light hits his jaw, more shaved than usual, sharp. Too sharp. My heartbeat stutters before I can tell it not to.
I drag in a breath, tell myself to stop being ridiculous. He’s just a man. A jerkward of a man. A gorgeous, infuriating jerkward.
His serious expression never wavers as he listens to the old man, nodding once. He doesn’t see us yet. I’m glad for it. Gives me a second to smooth my features into something neutral, something that won’t give me away.
No matter how good he looks this morning, he’s still the same awful person who kept me off the boat all last week.
And I won’t forget that.
Sloane doesn’t even slow down when we reach the boat. She steps right past him—past Reid, leaning over the railing—without so much as a nod. Typical.
Finn and Liam follow, but not before glancing at me. They linger a beat, side by side on the deck, their mouths twitching into identical smirks. Good luck, Finn mouths. Liam elbows him, but he’s grinning too. Then they disappear into the boat.
Which leaves me.
I stay planted on the dock, the boards shifting slightly under my weight. Reid still hasn’t looked up, still finishing whatever conversation he’s having with an older fisherman on the wharf. His voice is low, serious, steady. That stupid bomber jacket makes his shoulders look broader, his jaw even sharper now that he’s shaved.
I cross my arms, try to keep my breathing even.
The man shakes Reid’s hand, mutters something, then walks off.
And Reid finally looks at me.
He stops straight. His eyes widen for half a second, surprise flashing before it hardens into something more careful. Serious, yes. Always serious. But shocked too, like I’m the last person he expected to find waiting for him.
“You…” His voice is rough, caught between disbelief and something else. “What are you doing here?”
Anger spikes up hot in my chest.
“There we go again,” I snap, arms tightening around myself. “It’s been a week. Don’t you think you should let your only biologist on the boat?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stares. Not the usual cold, dismissive stare—but heavier. Lingering. Like he’s seeing me for the first time.
It only makes me angrier.
I let out a breath, shaking my head. “Forget it. There’s no getting through to you.”
I turn on my heel, footsteps loud on the dock as I start walking away.