Chapter 60: Jake
The harbour’s wrapped in gold fading to indigo when we dock, the last of the sun slipping behind the cliffs. The air smells like salt, fuel, and cold metal. Madeline’s already got her bag on her shoulder, the straps digging into the oversized sweater she wears.
Reid and I come down from the wheelhouse, boots thudding on the deck. She’s standing near the exit, waiting for us, hair pulled into a messy braid that the wind keeps tugging loose.
“Good job with the CTD today,” I tell her as I grab one of the ropes and secure it around the post.
Reid nods once, his voice steady and professional. “Same time tomorrow.”
She nods back, stepping toward the ramp—except her foot slips on the slick metal. She gasps, and before I can even blink, Reid’s hand shoots out and catches her by the elbow, firm and sure.
It all happens fast, but I catch the details—the way her breath catches, the way her fingers clutch her bag strap, the soft flush spreading up her neck.
Her eyes lift to his face, wide, searching.
And he doesn’t let go.
He’s still holding her elbow, steadying her even after she’s fine. His thumb moves once, absentmindedly, like he’s making sure she’s real.
She gives a small, shy smile. “Thanks,” she whispers, voice barely audible over the engine hum.
He doesn’t answer, just keeps looking at her for a heartbeat too long.
And I don’t miss it.
None of it.
She steps away finally, and Reid lets go, fingers lingering in the air for a second like the contact burned him.
I narrow my eyes, not sure what I’m seeing—if it’s real, or if I’m reading too much into a look that means nothing.
Madeline heads down the ramp, almost tripping again, but she catches herself this time. Finn and Liam are already hauling ropes on the dock, and as she walks by, Liam waves at her.
“We’ll be home after we finish up here!” Finn calls out.
She nods, smiles softly, and keeps walking toward the parking lot, hair swaying with every step.
Reid goes back up to the wheelhouse to grab his bag. I stay behind, pulling out my phone as it vibrates with an email from headquarters.
My inbox lights up with the usual flood—charts, permits, data sheets—but my attention keeps drifting back to the deck.
Finn and Liam haven’t moved.
They’re still watching her go.
I frown, keeping my phone on without answering.
Liam points at Finn, laughing under his breath. “You’re so into her, man.”
Finn snorts, tying off the rope with a grin. “Look who’s talking. You’re the one who forgot how to speak the first time you saw her.”
“Oh, screw off,” Liam says, his voice bright and teasing. He loops the rope again, glancing toward the end of the dock where Madeline disappeared. “I didn’t forget how to speak. I just—didn’t expect her to look like that.”
Finn laughs, the sound low and knowing. “Yeah, right. You looked like someone shot you.”
“Whatever, man.” Liam smirks, trying to brush it off, but he’s blushing. “At least I didn’t call her dude the other day.”
Finn groans. “It slipped! She caught me off guard. I mean, she’s—” He exhales, shaking his head. “She’s different. Not like the girls we meet at the pubs, you know? She’s… quiet. But when she talks, it’s like I want to drop everything just to listen. And you know I'm not a good listener.”
Liam hums, nodding. “Yeah. Like she doesn’t even try, and you’re still hooked.”
I’m frozen in place, pretending to scroll through my phone, jaw tight.
They keep going.
“So what’s your goal here?” Liam asks. “You actually think you’ve got a shot?”
Finn chuckles and shrugs. “I don’t know. I like her. Maybe a bit too much to live in the room next to hers, though.”
That earns a laugh out of Liam, bright and unguarded. “Yeah, I get that. She’s got that… energy. Like, you want to make her laugh but also—”
Finn interrupts, finishing the thought quietly, “—but also don’t want to be the reason she stops.”
The air catches in my chest.
Liam looks at him, surprised by the honesty. Then he sighs, looping the last coil of rope around his arm. “I don’t even know if I’m her type, man. She’s older than me by a year, right? Probably likes someone more… mature.”
Finn smirks. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re such a child.”
Liam throws a rag at him. “Shut up. I’m serious. At this point, I’m just lucky to be around her. You know?”
Finn quiets down, nodding, the teasing gone. “Yeah. I do.”
Then, softer, almost like a confession: “We’re so fucked.”
They both laugh at that—low, breathless, the kind of laugh that’s half nerves and half surrender.
They keep working, tying ropes, tossing rags, talking about her like they’re trying to laugh their way out of whatever they’re feeling.
And I stand there, every word crawling under my skin.
I can’t even tell what it is that’s burning inside me.
Maybe it’s that she’s distracting two of my guys, when focus is supposed to be rule number one out here. Maybe it’s because I know their house is crowded, and I don’t like the thought of her being surrounded by all that male attention if she's just trying to rest. Maybe it's how HR’s gonna crawl down my throat if someone screws up the boundaries in said house.
Or maybe—maybe it’s because I was the first one to really see her.
That night at the traffic light—her standing there in that oversized hoodie, town lights glinting off her hair, rain slick on the pavement. She looked completely lost, like she didn’t belong anywhere. But she wasn’t panicking. She was calm. Quiet. Like she’d made peace with it.
I remember rolling down the window, teasing her, and she stuttered through her answer, cheeks red, and I’d laughed.
God help me, I laughed.
And now these two—these kids—are standing here talking about her like she’s some dream they both want to chase.
I grip the railing until my knuckles ache.
She doesn’t belong to anyone. I know that.
But hearing them talk like that—like she’s some prize, some miracle that walked into their house and made everything warmer—
It pisses me off in a way I can’t explain.
I don’t have a claim on her. I don’t even know if I want to.
But I know this:
The thought of her laughing at something they say, or smiling at them the way she smiled at Reid when he caught her—
It makes me want to throw something into the sea.
Reid’s footsteps hit the stairs behind me, slow and steady. I school my expression, pull my phone from my pocket again.
“You good?” he asks, tone neutral.
“Yeah,” I answer, voice tight.
He looks out toward the dock, where Finn and Liam are still working, still laughing. His jaw flexes once before he turns toward the lights of the harbour.
I shove my phone back in my pocket and try to convince myself to let it go.
But the image burns in my mind—
her soft laugh, the curve of her lips when she said thank you, the way she looked up at him like he was something safe.
And I know it already—
Finn is right.
We’re all fucked.