Chapter 61: Jake
The air bites this morning. Cold enough that even my coffee barely makes a difference. Reid and I sit on the bench near the stern, steam curling up from the mugs between our hands, the quiet hum of the harbour filling the space between us.
It’s June, but the kind of June that laughs in your face if you expect warmth. The sky’s dull, the water calm but dark, heavy with that early-morning chill that seeps straight through bone.
Then she shows up.
Madeline walks down the dock, bundled in layers — thick sweater, green jacket, beanie pulled low, the straps of her field bag cutting across her chest. She looks like she walked straight out of a survival catalog. Only her eyes peek out above the collar of her coat, bright and focused as she approaches.
“Good morning,” she says, voice muffled through the layers.
Reid hums a response, more grunt than word. I nod, lifting my cup slightly.
She steps closer and holds something out. His hat.
“I figured you might want this back.”
Reid takes it, slow and reluctant. For a second, his eyes flicker — like he doesn’t want to, but he’s too proud to say no. “Thanks.”
Her gloved hand brushes his for half a second as he takes it, and she drops her gaze quickly. “Of course.”
She’s about to head off toward her gear when I speak up. “Are the boys coming soon?”
That makes her stop. She turns back, brow creasing. “I— I thought they left before me.”
Reid and I trade a glance.
“They’re not here yet,” I say.
She frowns, concern flickering across her face. “Oh. I didn’t check their room or anything, it’s just… they’re usually up before me.”
“Maybe they stopped for food,” Reid mutters, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Maybe,” she says softly, still looking uneasy.
“Let’s give them a few minutes,” I tell her.
She nods and pulls her bag higher on her shoulder. “Alright. I’ll go set up my stuff in the meantime.”
I watch her walk off toward the bow — small, layered figure against the pale light. She moves like she’s trying to keep herself warm from the inside out.
Reid sets his mug down beside him, watching the steam drift. “You think the boys overslept?”
I take a slow sip, eyes still on Madeline as she kneels near the equipment, carefully unzipping a case. “Not sure,” I say. “But I think she’s more worried about them than we are.”
Reid sits next to me, elbows on his knees, eyes on the horizon. His usual morning silence.
“Give them five minutes,” he says finally. “If they’re not here by then, I’ll call.”
I nod, thumb already moving over my phone. Charlie might know where they are.
You seen the guys? I text.
It takes less than ten seconds before her reply pops up.
Leave me alone. I don’t have to wake up at ungodly hours like you people.
A short laugh escapes me. So that’s a no, then.
Correct.
I shake my head, smirking, and put my phone away. Reid glances over, one brow lifting.
“Charlie?”
“She’s thrilled as always.”
He grunts, clearly unsurprised.
We wait another few minutes. The kind of waiting that feels longer because neither of us says a word. The wind’s picking up, sharp and biting against the skin, and every few seconds I glance toward the dock, expecting movement. Nothing.
Then Madeline comes back from the bow, her bag slung crossbody, cheeks pink from the cold. She looks tense, like she’s been pacing.
“They’re not here yet?” she asks, voice cautious.
“Nope,” I answer, tipping my mug toward the dock. “Not a sign.”
“I can walk back,” she says, stepping closer, her boots thudding softly on the deck. “Maybe they stopped by the store or— I don’t know, got sidetracked. I can check if—”
“No.”
It comes out of both of us—me and Reid—at the exact same time.
Her eyes widen, startled, and she takes half a step back.
Reid straightens. “We don’t need three crew members missing.”
“Oh,” she says quickly, nodding. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” I say, but she’s already frowning, retreating toward the bench beside us.
She sits, careful to keep some distance—a full arm’s length, her hands folded in her lap, one boot tapping quietly against the deck. I notice the way her knee bounces, how she keeps glancing between us like she’s trying to gauge the weather, figure out who’s the safer storm.
Reid pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, scrolling through contacts. “I’ll call them.”
He dials, presses the phone to his ear. Nothing. No answer.
He tries again. Still nothing.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath.
“They’re thirty minutes late,” I say, setting my coffee down a little too hard on the rail. “None of the prep’s done. The tide’s not gonna wait for them.”
“Exactly,” Reid says, jaw tight.
Madeline swallows, her gaze darting between the two of us like she’s not sure whether to speak. “Maybe… maybe something happened?”
“Something better not have happened,” Reid mutters.
I glance at her, and she looks small beside us—hands gripping her notebook like it might protect her. Her lips part, like she wants to say something, then shut again.
The silence stretches, heavy, sharp enough to make even the wind sound hesitant.
I’m about to tell Reid to ease up before we scare her into quitting when—
Footsteps.
Running.
Fast.
Two sets.
We all turn at once.
Finn and Liam sprint down the dock, practically flying toward the boat. They nearly trip on the last plank, boots untied, one of them clutching an open backpack that’s half falling apart.
“Wait, wait—” Finn gasps as he stumbles onboard, bracing himself against the railing. “We thought the schedule said nine!”
Liam, panting beside him, blurts out, “He was in the washroom forever!”
Finn points at him. “You were the one who hid my key!”
“I didn’t hide it, you—”
“Both of you, shut it,” Reid says, voice calm but sharp enough to cut through steel.
They freeze mid-sentence.
Reid doesn’t even raise his voice. He just lifts one hand slightly, palm out. “I don’t care who overslept, who showered first, or who got stuck behind a car. You’re here now. Get the prep done. Fast.”
“Yes, sir,” Finn mutters immediately.
“On it,” Liam adds, still breathless.
They scatter—one toward the ropes, the other to check the storage. The air’s full of the sound of metal clinking, ropes dragging, doors slamming shut.
Madeline exhales softly beside me, her shoulders loosening a little. I glance at her and see the faint trace of a smile tugging at her lips, relief mixing with amusement.
“Guess we found them,” I say under my breath.
She glances at me, the smallest laugh escaping her. “Guess so.”