Chapter 82: Reid
It’s day three.
And hopefully the fucking last of being trapped inside this goddamn coffee shop.
The rain’s still coming down in sheets outside, thunder every few minutes just to mock me, and I swear if I have to hear one more milk frother hiss, I’ll lose it. I’ve run out of things to do—reports done, data reviewed twice, even emails sent. Jake and Madeline are the only ones still typing like their lives depend on it.
Madeline.
She’s sitting with us today, and it’s getting harder by the hour.
There’s this tension now, one that even the air seems to hum with. It’s not just me and Jake anymore. It’s Finn, Liam—hell, all four of us. We’re quiet about it, but we all feel it. The way our eyes track her movements. The way conversation dies the second she laughs with someone else.
She doesn’t notice. Of course she doesn’t. She’s too focused, too earnest, too good. She probably just thinks we’re all moody or weirdly competitive about everything in general. But she doesn’t realize she’s sitting in the middle of a storm, four men circling her like predators, each one trying not to be the first to pounce.
Jake especially.
He looks at her with that silent, possessive thing he does.
Like he’s decided he knows what’s best for her. That he could take care of her, keep her safe, if she’d just let him. I see it in his eyes—the same ones I’ve known my whole life—and it makes something sharp burn in my chest.
They talk more now. She’s still cautious around him, but not as much as before. She teases him, throws sarcastic comments that make him deadpan before she giggles under her breath. I can’t stand it.
Every sound she makes feels like a dare.
And then there’s Finn and Liam.
She’s comfortable with them.
Laughs with them, leans against them when they show her something on their screens, lets them hug her like it’s nothing. They touch her shoulders, her back, her arm, and she doesn’t even flinch.
If she knew what goes through their heads—the kind of things they probably imagine when they’re close to her—she’d stop letting them near her.
Hell, if she knew what goes through mine, she’d run for the hills.
She’s too soft for this place. Too trusting. She thinks we’re all just coworkers, teammates.
And I’m not any better than the rest of them.
Because the truth is, it’s getting harder to pretend I don’t want her. Harder to keep the distance I forced between us. Every time she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear or bites her lip in concentration, I feel it.
That pull.
Jake feels it too—I know it.
We’re connected, always have been. Two halves of the same fucked-up whole. Which means if I want her, he probably does too.
And if we don’t talk about it soon, if we keep pretending it isn’t there—
One of us is going to cross a line we can’t come back from.
Madeline groans at her laptop, dragging me out of the thoughts I shouldn’t be having.
Both Jake and I look up at the same time.
She’s glaring at her screen like it personally offended her, muttering, “If this chart crashes one more time, I’m throwing myself into the ocean.”
Jake chuckles under his breath, and I can’t help the smirk that pulls at my mouth.
She freezes when she realizes we heard her, cheeks flushing pink.
“Sorry,” she says, fumbling with her pen.
Jake shakes his head, still amused. “You’re good.”
Before she can bury herself in embarrassment, Charlie calls her name from near the door, waving her over. Madeline sighs, gives us both a small, apologetic smile, and stands up to join her.
The second she walks off, the quiet hum of conversation in the café picks back up. I’m about to go back to pretending to read something when I catch Finn’s voice at the table in front of us.
“God, she’s beautiful,” he says under his breath, but not nearly quiet enough.
Liam leans back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Bro… I swear to God, if she bends over that laptop one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”
“Same,” Finn says. “She’s just so damn sweet about everything. You ever see her when she’s mad? Like that oven thing the other day? She was cussing under her breath, all red and flustered. I wanted to grab her face and—”
“—and what?” Liam cuts in, smirking.
Finn’s grin fades, replaced with something sharper. “And find out how far she’d let me go.”
Liam goes quiet, watching him. Then he says, softer, “You’re not the only one thinking that.”
Finn raises a brow. “Oh yeah?”
My jaw clenches. Jake’s pen stops moving.
Finn snickers and adds, “you just want her too.”
Liam shrugs. “Maybe I do. You hogged her during movie night though, asshole.”
“She sat next to me,” Finn says, grinning. “Not my fault she wanted to.”
Liam leans back, folding his arms. “Not your fault I might make her want me next time, either.”
Jake’s grip tightens on his pen until it snaps clean in half.
I keep my eyes on my laptop, pretending I’m still reading, even though I can feel my pulse hammering in my throat.
Finn laughs low. “Fine. No rules between us. You go for her, I go for her too. May the best man win. Just… respect, yeah? No screwing her over.”
Liam nods. “Of course. Always. But between you and me…” He lowers his voice. “Her walking around the house like that yesterday—those shorts, that tank top? It’s criminal. I almost forgot my own damn name.”
Finn groans. “Don’t. Fucking. Remind me. I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes—”
Liam cuts him off, laughing. “Yeah, I know. I heard you, you disgusting prick.”
Their laughter hits like static. Loud, careless, stupid.
Jake’s not laughing. Neither am I.
He leans back slowly, eyes locked in their direction, and I can see it—the same dark fury burning in his chest that’s coiled in mine.
My hands are fists under the table. If I unclench them, I’m not sure I’ll stop myself from walking over there and teaching them a lesson about respect.
We’ve fought before—Jake and I—but right now, we’re perfectly in sync.
That look we share says everything.
Forget whatever’s brewing between us. Forget how close I am to snapping every time I see her smile at him instead of me.
Finn and Liam are the problem now.
I know she’s not ours. She’s not an object, not something to claim just for fun.
She’s her own person, and she should make her own damn choices.
But that doesn’t mean we’ll stand by and let them be part of those choices.
And Jake and I aren’t saints either—we’re not innocent in what we think when she smiles or blushes or says our names.
But if Finn or Liam think they can keep crossing lines, even in words—
They’re about to learn who they’re really sharing a team with.