Chapter Eleven

Lola

It feels good to be out on the water again with my crew after a relaxing weekend of getting settled into my cozy little cottage. I don't typically enjoy being alone for long periods of time since I'm a major extrovert but having an entire day to myself yesterday felt necessary. It gave me time to breathe and to reflect on my first interactions with everyone I've encountered in Willow Cove.

I've loved getting to know Jerica better and could totally see us being long-distance friends for the long haul. Perry, on the other hand…is still a bit of an enigma. He's like one of those mysteries on TV where you think you know who the killer is, but there's a twist toward the end that totally throws you. Every time I feel like I get close to figuring Perry out, he surprises me.

Like when Weston approached Jerica and me at the sports bar, and he laid some sort of claim to me. Even thinking about the way his face flushed when Weston asked him if that was his intent makes me warm all over. And now I know how good his calloused hands feel against my skin. Each time my mind goes back to that encounter, it starts to ignorantly pine for more. But that would be foolish. Sometimes Perry acts as if he hates the mere sight of me while other times, he seems almost…protective.

I spent a good part of yesterday trying to determine how best to proceed with him. Of course I want to be his friend and continue to peel back the layers of who he is. But since there's that little part of me that wishes he desired me as more than a friend, I know it's not a great idea to push where he's concerned. I'm not interested in having my heart broken again, especially not by another guy I'm working with. Still dealing with those repercussions with Hal.

"What do you think happened to him this weekend?" Bree whispers as she nudges my shoulder with hers.

On the other side of me, Buzz leans in. "I honest to God think that's just how he looks. Perpetually crabby, no pun intended. I asked him if I could go fishing with him and he shut me down. Just like that." Buzz snaps his fingers and I frown.

"Really? That seems harsh. Even for him."

Buzz shrugs. "I dunno. He definitely made it seem like I was not wanted on his boat." His chuckle gains Perry's attention, and we all zip it. Our crabby captain sends a scowly glance over his shoulder before facing forward.

I turn back to my companions. "I'll talk to him." Picking up Bertie on the way over, I sidle up to Perry with a wide smile. "So. Did you have a good weekend?"

He spares me one quick glance before staring out at the water ahead. "I guess."

"What did you do?"

He licks his chapped lips, then sighs. "Read. Relaxed. Had Sunday dinner with my family."

"Oh, nice. Was Jerica there?"

His dark blue eyes flick to mine. "Yes." When he says nothing more, I bury my face in Bertie's fur and give her head a kiss while trying to think of something else to say to get him talking. But then he surprises me.

"And my younger brother."

My entire being perks at the information he just handed me on a silver platter. "Oh?"

He offers me a single nod. That's it. But it's enough to pique my curiosity even more. I instantly want to pepper him with questions to find out all I can about his family, but he doesn't give me the chance.

"We're here." He shifts the boat into neutral and moves to lower the anchor, effectively ending our conversation. Guess I'll have to wait until after our dive to pry him for more information about his family, his life. If only he'd see me as someone he could open up to.

"You won't believe what I found!" I slide off my goggles and hold the unique find out so Buzz can see it better. "It's a real- life message in a bottle!" No matter how hard I try, I can't curb the excitement in my voice. It's so rare to find anything contemporary during these excavations…well, unless it's trash. But this…this is a real-life mystery just waiting to be uncovered.

Buzz carefully inspects the bottle, rubbing a thumb across the misty glass. "This is pretty cool, Lo. Not exactly what we're looking for, but I admit, it is interesting."

Bree gazes over Buzz's shoulder at the bottle. "We'll still have to log it as an artifact, even though it's clearly a soda bottle." She hums, squinting at it. "Which makes you wonder how old it could be."

"Right?!"

Buzz hands the bottle back to me. "I know that look. You're going on a mission, aren't you?"

Bouncing on my toes, I tuck the bottle close to my chest and say, "I'm going to show our captain!"

When I find Perry readying the boat for takeoff with Bertie tapping around at his feet, I purposely lean into his purview with my treasure hidden behind my back. "Hey, guess what I found down there today."

"No." Unbothered by my cheerfulness, as usual, he sidesteps me and brings up the anchor.

"Oh, come on! This is so cool! Even you would think so!"

"I'm sure you're right." He turns his back to me and puts the boat in gear, completely unfazed.

"Well," I say, hands on my hips. "Don't you want to make just one little, tiny guess?"

A grunt. "Can't say I do."

I huff, then skip to his side and peer up at him. His perfect profile only distracts me for a second. "Oh, come on, Perry. I know you're not as aloof as you seem. And I know you didn't mean to totally blow Buzz off the other day when he asked to go fishing with you."

When he lifts his hat from his head, readjusts it, and clenches his fists tightly around the wheel, I realize I've struck a nerve. "I-I didn't mean to, no. But—"

"And," I continue, using his guilt in my favor, "I know you also don't want to hurt my feelings by completely ignoring how excited I am to have found something of value down there. Something the museum won't want, but someone else might." I raise my eyebrows, hoping he'll take the bait.

Finally, he spares me a quick glance before blowing out a sharp breath. "Fine. You found a treasure chest."

I smile. "Nope. Keep guessing."

His mouth forms a tight line. "Something really old and valuable."

"Nope. Guess again."

He sighs. "This is getting old, Lola. Can't you give me a hint?"

"I suppose," I croon, gripping the bottle behind my back. "Okay, so it's not old at all. At least, I don't believe so. It's definitely from this century, judging by the style of bottle."

Knowing I gave away a big clue, I bite my lip to hold back a smile. Perry's ocean eyes connect with mine and his mouth parts. For a silent minute, he just stares.

"Well?" I ask. "Any more guesses?"

"What did you find, Lola?" His rusty growl might've scared me a week ago, but now I'm used to it. Hasn't anyone told this guy he'd catch more flies with honey?

"Fine, since you're a terrible guesser, I'll just show you." Gingerly taking the bottle out from behind my back, I hold it out for him to see. A bit of seaweed still clings to the neck, along with the small, weighted rope. "It's a message in a bottle!"

I drag my gaze away from my own personal treasure to see that Perry has gone a bit pale. "Are you okay?" I reach out to touch him, but he jerks away.

"I'm fine." The way the muscles in his jaw work back and forth tells me he's most definitely not fine.

"Perry, it's a modern-day message in a bottle. Don't you think that's awesome?"

"Sure."

I huff. "You know, you could stand to take some etiquette lessons or something. Here, let me give you a freebie." I cross my arms and glare at him. "When someone comes up to you and shows you something they think is really cool, something they're super excited about, the polite thing to do is share in their excitement. At the very least, you could muster up a smile and say something like, ‘That's great, Lola. Nice job.'"

With a mere shake of his head, Perry angles away from me. Fine. If he wants to be a butthead all the live long day, I guess there's nothing I can do about it.

"I'm going to read the letter so I can try to find the owner," I say, eyeing the bottle and its contents.

"No." Perry's quick retort has me rearing back in surprise.

"Excuse me? No?" I let out a half-hearted laugh. "That seems to be your favorite word today."

He grits his teeth, and with one hand on the wheel, lifts his cap with the other before fitting it back onto his head. "That's an invasion of privacy, Lola. You shouldn't do that, you'll…you'll ruin it. Just add it to your collection without tampering with it and move on."

I scoff. "You would say that, wouldn't you. Listen, I know how to handle things with care. That's literally part of my job description. And who knows how old this letter is? Maybe the person who wrote it wants it back. Maybe the person who wrote it died, and the person it was written to would like it as a keepsake."

"Doubt it. That's not how messages in bottles work." He's back to gritting his teeth and growling like a wild animal. Pointing to the bottle, he says, "There are weights tied to it. Looks like the writer didn't want the bottle to be found."

"Perhaps, but someone did find it—me. And before I can add it to my collection , as you're suggesting, it's only right that I find the original owner." I let my gaze fall to the bottle again as I twist it in my hands. "I'm going to say this was written in the last thirty years, which means there's a good chance the person is still out there. It wouldn't hurt to conduct an investigation to see what I can find."

"You're making a mistake," he says, voice edgy. "Take my advice for once and stop while you're ahead. This is a bad idea, Lola." After a brief pause, he adds, "Some things aren't worth dredging up the past for. Some things should be left alone."

I'm about to ask him what he means when Buzz snags my attention.

"Lo, can you come here for a sec?"

Sending Perry one last glare, I head over to where Buzz and Bree sit sorting the rest of the artifacts we discovered on this run. Nothing big, just small knickknack type things. Bree begins talking about what else we saw at the shipwreck site, but my mind can't focus on anything she's saying. Instead, it's stuck on Perry and his rudeness. I get that we're different. I get that he's a grump and doesn't want anything to do with me. But couldn't he at least pretend to muster up an ounce of excitement for anything ? I understand that he's private and takes little interest in anyone else, but that's not me. He could at least attempt to see things from my perspective.

There's only so much grouchiness a girl can take.

Once we're back at the dock, my team and I head to my car, where we load up. As usual, Perry stays on his boat. He's probably out there brooding and loathing my entire existence. Well, good for him. I'm not letting his mean-spiritedness ruin my excitement over this find.

After dropping Buzz and Bree off at Coralberry Cottages, I head back to the bungalow and begin to extract the letter from the bottle. Before I dive in, though, I set up my workstation, lining the table with newspapers and pulling on a pair of rubber gloves.

Popping the cork is the most satisfying sound I've heard…maybe ever. With tweezers and an enormous amount of care, I gently pull the letter out of the glass. It's crinkled and worn at the edges but unrolls rather easily.

Black ink stares back at me in a hastily written script. Unexpectedly, Perry's words from earlier come back to haunt me: You're making a mistake…some things should be left alone. For the first time since he spouted off at me, I let myself wonder why he was so weird about this.

I bite my bottom lip, letting my gaze track to the window and Perry's apartment at the back of the property. His beat-up old truck hasn't rumbled down the drive yet, so I know he's not home. Even if I wanted to ask him about it all, he's not here to do so.

Refocusing on my task, I read the letter's contents, scrawled on blue-lined paper like I used in high school.

Brandi,

I know you'll never see this letter, but I still can't help but write it. Probably because you left before I could say goodbye. I hated that more than anything else you did to hurt me in the end. I know you weren't trying to hurt me, but your actions proved that you stopped loving me a long time ago.

When was that, exactly? The day you realized I wasn't what you wanted? I've tried to figure out when it happened, going over and over all of it in my head, but I can't seem to pinpoint the exact date, or even the events leading up to it.

I wish I'd known. I could've fixed it—fixed us. Or at least tried.

I guess I'm still not over the way you left Willow Cove. I'm stuck here having to face everyone while you get to follow your dreams. I used to hope that you'd realize you were wrong for leaving, that you'd come back and we could start over, but now I know that can't ever happen.

Because I was what held you back.

For what it's worth, I'm sorry.

With all my love, now and forever,

the guy you left behind

An unexpected tear slips down my cheek, and I quickly swipe it away, afraid it might drip onto the paper. Never have I read such a heartbreaking letter before. Every line echoes with pain, as if each stroke of the pen must've pulsed right along with his heartbreak.

There are no signs of the writer's tears anywhere on the page, but that doesn't mean he didn't shed any when he wrote it. He must have, with as much longing as this letter holds. He poured so much hurt onto the page, so much regret.

And knowing that this Brandi of his left and never read it…

I sniff away my sadness and straighten. Maybe if Brandi had read this, the two of them could've been reunited. I can't imagine reading this and not caring enough to respond.

Carefully turning the letter over, I inspect each ridge and wrinkle. I couldn't tell how old the paper was at first glance, but with a closer look, I'd guess the letter was written sometime in the last ten years or so. Messages in bottles aren't always easy to date, but this one feels too new to be much older than that.

Modern soda bottle. Blue-lined paper. Written in black ink. Weighted down with simple rope and circular flat weights.

Did the guy Brandi left behind ever get to tell her how he felt? Did he chase after her while she chased her dreams? I hope so. I really do. Even though love hasn't worked out well for me yet doesn't mean I'm not a fan. In fact, I believe in it now more than ever. My parents have been in love for over half their lives, and both are happy and content. A love like that could be out there for everyone if they just opened their hearts to it...

"I need to find out who wrote this." Saying the words aloud makes it even more real, more pressing. "I need to."

With great care, I roll up the letter, then set it on the kitchen counter and make a pot of tea with the electric kettle. As I wait for the water to boil, I lean against the counter and stare out into the back yard. A single light now shines through Perry's window, signaling that he's home.

I have the sudden urge to take the letter to him and ask if he might know who penned it. Then I remember how irritated he was when I insisted on keeping it. Well, not keeping it, but finding its rightful owner. I honestly don't see the harm. If I had written a letter like this and thrown it out to sea, I'd always wonder where it ended up.

Maybe Brandi's ex got the courage to write to her after all? And if he did, wouldn't this letter be a good reminder of how he gathered the courage to face his fears? Or maybe he never chased after her and has regretted it his whole life. Maybe finding this letter will remind him to try and salvage the relationship he and Brandi had? How can I let something so valuable just lie at the bottom of the ocean?

The teakettle hisses, and I pour a cup of chamomile. When I turn to look back out the window, Perry's light is off. Maybe I'll find a way to bring it up to him tomorrow and make my case for why this is so important. Or…maybe not.