Chapter 55: Madeline
I head to the washroom, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, but when I push the door open, Charlie’s already there, brushing her teeth and humming something soft.
“Oh—sorry,” I say, stepping back. “I’ll come back later.”
She turns quickly. “No, no, please—actually, can you help me?”
Her necklace is caught in her hair, the thin chain looped tight around a strand near the nape of her neck. She’s tugging at it uselessly, wincing.
I giggle. “How do you even do this?”
“Talent,” she says through a laugh. “Help before I shave my head.”
I step behind her, gently freeing the chain. Her hair smells like citrus and eucalyptus. As I work, she studies me through the mirror—quietly, almost carefully.
After a pause, she says, “I’m sorry the twins are giving you a hard time.”
My fingers still for a second before I force a small smile. “Oh, it’s fine. Really. We’ll… make it work. Eventually. At least professionally.”
Charlie smiles at my reflection, her eyes soft. “I can try talking to them, if you want. They usually listen to me.”
I hesitate, glancing up. “You seem really close to them.”
“I am,” she says simply. The kind of answer that holds more than it gives.
“Maybe you can convince Reid to be nice to me, then,” I joke, trying to sound casual.
She grins, her mouth curving in that effortless, teasing way. “Reid would make an effort if I ask him nicely.” She winks, scooping up her hairbrush now that she’s free. “Thanks, Quinn. You’re a lifesaver.”
Before I can say anything, she’s already gone, leaving me staring at the door, her words—and that wink—echoing in the quiet.
Close, she’d said.
Close enough to make Reid listen.
Finn and Liam already left earlier, their laughter fading into the wind long before I even stepped outside.Now it's my turn to step out the door, and the morning fog still clings to the docks when I get there, curling low over the water like smoke. The boards are damp beneath my shoes, gulls crying somewhere far off. I spot one of the twins before I even reach the boat—broad shoulders, dark sweater, head bent slightly as he types something into his phone.
He’s leaning against the hull like he’s got all the time in the world, one ankle crossed over the other. There’s something in the way he stands—steady, unbothered—that makes my steps slow a little.
When I stop, he doesn’t look up right away. He just smirks, eyes still on his screen, like he’s known I was there the whole time.
“Good morning, Madeline.”
The sound of my name in his voice—low, smooth, drawn out like he’s tasting it—makes my stomach tighten. He slips his phone into his pocket, finally lifting his gaze to mine.
And there it is—the tell. That deep amber glow in his eyes, swirling like honey over fire. Jake. Of course. If the smirk hadn’t given it away, the calm confidence would’ve.
“Morning,” I say, a little breathier than intended, glancing toward the Vigil.
He follows my gaze, his mouth curving just slightly. “As far as I’m concerned,” he says, his tone slow, deliberate, “you’re always welcome on board. So—let’s get going.”
It’s the kind of thing that shouldn’t sound as charged as it does. But coming from him, it does.
I can’t help but smile. “Are you captaining today?”
He nods, pushing off the side of the boat with one easy motion. “Yeah. I’ll take the helm. Reid’s supervising you. Tomorrow we switch.” His eyes flick over my face, steady, unreadable. “Then Sloane’s back.”
I nod, trying to look composed, though my pulse feels too quick for this early in the day.
I hop onto the deck, my boot landing with a soft thud. When I glance back, he’s still watching me—hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, that faint trace of a smirk playing on his lips.
I set my bag down on the bench and pull out my notebook, the familiar weight of it grounding me a little. Finn gives me a lazy grin from where he’s coiling rope, Liam waves with a coffee in hand, and for a second, the normalcy helps.
Then I head up to the wheelhouse.
Both twins are there now, talking in low voices—the kind that feels private even when you can’t make out the words. The floorboards creak under my steps, and just like that, they both turn toward me at the same time. I’ll never get used to that. It’s unnerving, the way they move in sync, like mirrored versions of the same man.
Except now, I can tell them apart easily.
Reid’s eyes are darker—coffee black, rich and deep and impossible to read. Jake’s are lighter, flecked with gold near the center, like sunlight filtering through brown glass. He also looks just a little cleaner-shaven than his brother. Tiny differences, but once you see them, you can’t unsee them.
I force a smile and turn toward Reid. “Good morning.”
He nods once. No smile. No warmth.
Right. Last night was just a glitch in the system—a moment of weakness, maybe, but not a change. Back to the usual. Back to him hating me.
I clear my throat, trying to sound a little more confident than I feel. “So… what’s the plan for today?”
Jake looks up first, meeting my eyes across the narrow space. The faintest hint of a smile tugs at his mouth. “You tell me. Think the porpoises will be there again?”
I shake my head, flipping through my notebook. “Maybe. But the first day, they were close to the cove. The second, they were already further out. And now it’s been two days… so, if it took us over two hours to reach them last time, I think they’ve moved even further by now.” I glance up. “Might be better to look for something else.”
They both nod—at the exact same time.
I swear, they must practice this twin telepathy thing.
Jake leans back in the captain’s chair, hands loose on the wheel. “Alright then,” he says easily, a trace of amusement in his tone.
Reid folds his arms, glancing out toward the water, expression unreadable. “Let’s see if we can find whales.”
And just like that, it’s settled. The two of them in sync again—same words, same tone, like a strange chorus that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.