Chapter 37: Madeline
I’m still smiling when I gather my notes, my fingers stiff from writing, my cheeks aching from grinning too long. That whale—it was everything. The dive, the fluke, the way she surfaced right where I thought she would. I identified her, logged her behaviors, filled pages of notes. Limited, sure—no drones, no samples—but still, it felt like the most real science I’ve ever done.
And then the porpoises. A pod weaving around the bow, playful streaks of light across the surface. I snapped photos until my hand cramped, scribbled until the ink blurred. All of it’s still buzzing under my skin. I can’t wait to get home, to spread out my notes and relive every second.
“Go ahead,” Liam calls, dragging a hose across the deck. “We gotta wash and fuel.”
“Yeah, we’ll catch up,” Finn adds, already undoing valves.
I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Okay.”
I’m halfway to the gangplank when he appears.
Reid.
Leaning casual, expression serious as ever. “You did some really good work today,” he says. “You’re a natural at this.”
The words freeze me in place. My mouth goes dry. He cannot be serious. He—the same man who’s iced me out, kept me landlocked, acted like I was one misstep from being sent home—is now calling me a natural?
“Thanks,” I clip out, sharp as a blade. Then I shoulder past him, storming off the boat before he can say more.
How can he—how can he—do this? Freeze me out for a week, keep me chained to a desk, humiliate me in front of everyone, then hand me a compliment like it costs him nothing? Hot, cold, push, pull. What is this, a game?
By the time I hit the dock I’m fuming, my tote banging against my hip as I march. The salt air stings my throat. I don’t slow.
“Madeline!”
His voice snaps through my storm.
And then his hand closes around my wrist, stopping me dead.
“Will you just slow down?!”
I turn on him, eyes blazing. “Why? So you can jerk me around some more?”
His brows slam together. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means,” I spit, yanking against his grip, “you’ve been playing me like a yo-yo since I got here. One day it’s ‘stay off the boat,’ the next it’s ‘good work.’ One minute I’m not qualified, the next I’m a natural. Which is it?”
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he fires back. “I told you—your work today was excellent. I meant it.”
I laugh, sharp, bitter. “And that cancels out the rest of the week? The way you cut me down every time I tried to contribute? The way you shoved me behind a desk like a useless intern?”
His jaw tightens. “I didn’t—”
“You did,” I snap. “You were rude. Dismissive. Cruel, even. And now you expect me to just take your whiplash compliments like they make up for it? I don’t know how to read you, Reid. I can’t keep up.”
He stares at me like I’ve knocked the wind out of him.
For a long beat, he just blinks, mouth half open. Then he drags a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “Wait. No one told you.”
My heart stutters. “Told me what?”
He looks at me like he’s holding a secret that tastes like iron. “So all of today, you thought I was—”
“Who?” I snap, chest heaving.
“Me,” another voice cuts in. No, not another voice, the same one.
I spin so fast I nearly lose my balance.
And there he is.
Another him.
Leaning against the diner’s brick wall like he’s been there the whole damn time. Same sharp jaw. Same dark eyes. Same mouth set in that infuriating almost-frown. But different too—sharper around the edges, darker, though just as intense.
My stomach plummets to my toes. My head tilts back on instinct, like distance might make it make sense.
I flick my gaze from one to the other, back again, pulse hammering like I’ve sprinted a mile. “No. Nope. Absolutely not.” I shake my head, laugh a little too loudly. “That’s it, I’ve finally cracked. It’s the fog. What do they put in it here? Hallucinogens? Neurotoxins? I’ve seen the documentaries—this is how it starts.”
Both of them—both of them—laugh.
I freeze, staring at the echo, at the way the sound overlaps, two variations of the same voice ricocheting through me.
Two of them.
The most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, multiplied. Like the universe decided to double down on my suffering.
I take a few steps back, my tote bumping against my leg, eyes darting from one to the other like maybe if I blink fast enough one of them will dissolve. No such luck.
“Is this a prank?” My voice comes out higher than I intend. “Some kind of… I don’t know, weird Northhaven hazing ritual? Do you hire a guy who looks like you just to keep the new girl on her toes? Or—oh my God—are you doppelgängers? Or clones? Please don’t tell me I’ve stumbled into some Stepford fisherman experiment, because if I wake up in a pod tomorrow morning, I swear—”
I clamp my mouth shut, heat crawling up my neck.
They’re both looking at me like I’m the most entertaining thing they’ve seen in years.
Finally, I drag in a breath and jab a finger toward the one in front of me. “So… you’re Jake.”
He nods once, slow.
My frown whips to the one leaning against the wall. Reid. Of course Reid.
“No one told you we were brothers?” Jake asks, voice maddeningly calm.
“Brothers, yes,” I snap. “Twins, no.”
Reid finally pushes off the wall, casual as if this whole thing isn’t reality-bending. He shrugs. “Minor detail.” Then, flat as ever: “Let’s go.”
I blink at him. “Go where?”
He cuts me a glance, sharp and cool. “You think your work’s done after one boat ride? Data doesn’t review itself.”
My jaw drops. “With you?”
That earns me the faintest smirk, irritatingly smug. “With both of us.”