Chapter 35: Jake
It takes me a second to process what just happened.
Her face. That face.
Every brain cell in my head short-circuits the second I see her, glaring up at me with those green eyes, freckles burning on sun-warmed skin. And then she spins away, storming down the dock like I didn’t just have my entire world knocked sideways.
It’s her.
The girl from the light over a week ago. The one I haven’t been able to shake since.
I’m still standing there like an idiot when my body finally jolts into motion. I vault over the railing, hit the dock hard, and jog after her. Damn, for such short legs she walks fast.
“Wait,” I call.
Nothing. She keeps going, jaw tight.
I pick up my pace, fall in step a few paces behind. “Wait.”
This time she spins around so fast it nearly knocks me back.
Her eyes blaze. She looks furious, arms crossed, mouth pulled into a pout that’s equal parts sharp and devastating. Up close, I notice everything I missed at the light: the different shades of gold and brown and red in her hair, the swirling green of her eyes that hits harder than it should, the curve of her mouth that makes my chest pull tight even when it’s turned against me.
And I’m staring. Again.
I open my mouth, desperate to say something, anything—
“Watch out!” someone shouts.
I react before I think, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her close as a heavy crate crashes down onto the dock, splintering where she’d just been standing. The noise is deafening, wood shattering, voices yelling across the water.
Her breath hitches against me, eyes wide.
Before I can say anything else, Sloane’s voice cuts sharp from the deck. “It’s our slot! We’ve gotta get out now!”
I exhale hard, looking back at her. This isn’t the place. Not with chaos breaking loose around us.
“This isn’t the time to talk,” I say, steady, holding her gaze. “Come on the boat.”
She blinks, stunned. “You’re… letting me on?”
I can’t help it—I almost laugh. The surprise on her face kills me. She looks soft in that second, open in a way that makes something inside me twist.
“You’re our biologist, right?”
Her voice is small but certain. “Yes.”
“Then get on.”
Her lips part, eyes flickering with something I can’t read, and for a beat I swear the dock tilts under my feet.
The second she steps onto the deck, Finn and Liam start clapping like idiots.
“Yessss,” Finn crows, grinning ear to ear. “Finally.”
Liam half hugs her, laughing. “Took you long enough.”
I glance between them, frowning. Did Reid really keep her off the boat this whole time? He told me she wasn’t ready yet, that she needed to prove herself with the data first. But seeing the way the boys light up, the way she’s standing there clutching her bag like it’s armor, I wonder.
And if he did… what the hell was he thinking?
“Come on,” Liam says, ushering her toward a bench. “You can stash your bag here.”
She kneels, pulling out a folder thick with papers, her brow furrowed in concentration. Charts, notes, data sheets—more than I expected. She looks up at me through her lashes, uncertain, almost like she’s bracing for me to tell her she’s in the wrong place.
I sigh. “First thing we do is go to the wheelhouse and plan the itinerary with the captain.”
She nods quickly, still frowning a little, and falls in step behind me as I lead her up the stairs.
Sloane’s already there, standing tall behind the console, eyes fixed on the horizon. She doesn’t so much as glance at Madeline when we enter.
“What’s it look like?” I ask her.
Her jaw ticks, but she answers. “Calm water. No wind. A sailboat reported seeing a spout not far out.”
I nod. “Alright. We’ll go check that out.” I turn toward Madeline. “Good with you?”
She looks startled, like she wasn’t expecting me to ask. A beat of hesitation, then: “Yes.”
She clutches her folder closer and slips out of the wheelhouse, steps quick as she heads back down.
I exhale, drag a hand down my face, then glance at Sloane. “She always like this?”
Sloane doesn’t look at me—just flicks one eyebrow up. “No. Must be you.”
Something hot coils low in my chest. I bite back a retort, jaw tightening as I wonder why the hell would Madeline be any different around me.
It shouldn’t bother me. But it does.
When I head back down, she’s standing a little awkwardly by the bench where her bag is, arms tight around that folder like she’s not sure what she’s supposed to do next.
“Come on,” I say, motioning her over.
I lead her to the storage lockers along the starboard side. “Here’s the photo-ID book. You’ll need it for cross-checking once we start spotting. And binoculars—you’ll want your own pair, but these will do for now. Distance laser rangefinder’s here too, good for measurements from afar.”
She trails after me, quiet, eyes sharp, absorbing everything.
I rest my hand briefly on the locker door. “Since you haven’t been on the water with us yet, we’re keeping it simple today. No drones, no tagging, no sampling. We’ll stick to observation and ID.”
Her lips part like she might argue, but she swallows it down. “Thank you,” she says instead, barely above the noise of the engine.
And then she’s gone—straight to the bow, binoculars already in hand, her back to me before I’ve even shut the locker.
I watch her cross the deck, the wind snapping her hair into gold streaks, the sun catching on her freckles.
That night at the traffic light flashes back—her face in the glow, the way it knocked something loose in me. The reason I couldn’t stop replaying it since.
And now? Nothing.
Maybe she doesn’t remember. Or maybe she does and she’s pretending she doesn’t. Either way, it grates.
I shove the locker shut harder than I need to and lean back against it, jaw tight. She’s out there scanning the horizon like she’s already part of this crew, like she belongs. And all I can think about is how the hell she’s standing ten feet away and somehow feels a mile out of reach.