Chapter Twenty

Perry

You know that feeling when you know you've messed up, but you're just not sure how? And you want to fix whatever it is you screwed up, but because you're not sure what you did, you don't know where to start?

Yeah. That feeling sucks.

Eh, who am I kidding? I know where I went wrong with Lola. It was on the boat the morning I woke up in her lap. I could've leaned into our connection, and I did for just a second, but then I pulled away and left her hanging. I gave her a compliment and couldn't back it up. She saw what a twisted jerk I was, and now she wants nothing to do with me.

Well, maybe not nothing .

She still smiles my way when we lock eyes on the boat, still waves to me in her cheery little way each morning. Yet whenever I try to engage her in conversation or even inch toward the boundary from friendly to flirty, she pulls back so fast I'm left with whiplash.

And I hate it.

Every second she avoids me leaves me bereft. Here I am, sulking on the boat after another day of taking her and her team out to Prater's shipwreck, and all I can think about is how I want to go back to that day…back to the morning we were so close I could feel her breath on my face, her hands in my hair. Maybe I'd do things differently if I had a second chance.

Then again, maybe not.

I'm still a broken man because of my past, but that's nothing new. Even if I wanted to have more with Lola, I'd likely fudge it up somewhere along the line. And knowing what a creep her ex was, she doesn't need to be left hurt again.

She needs someone good. Someone who can give her all those things she mentioned—kids, a life filled with love. She needs someone who isn't me.

Bertie trots over to my side and looks up at me, head cocked, as if to say, why the long face, Dad? I reach down and pet her until her tongue lolls to the side and she slinks to her belly.

"Come on, Bert. Time to head home." As much as I'd like to, we can't hide out here all day. I button up the boat, then pick her up and head back to my truck. Halfway there, I realize I don't want to go home. Not when I know I'll be tempted to run over to Lola's and drop off food or some other weird, out-of-character thing.

Instead, I text my sister and see if she wants to grab a bite to eat at the Shallow End. As soon as I hit send, I start toward the boardwalk, Bertie still nestled in my arms. Jerica only takes about two minutes to send one word response. "Sure."

I head that way, stopping in King's Surf Shop as I go. When I step inside, King offers me a nod before tipping his head to Bertie. "Hey, man. Bert. What brings you by?"

I rub the scruff under Bertie's chin. "Nothing, just…" I shrug because I have no idea why I dropped in. "Just wanted to say hi."

King watches me like he knows something's up. "Okay. Well, come on; you can help me fold these new tees we had made."

I set Bertie on her feet, then step up next to him at the counter. Each of us grabs a T-shirt and begins folding. "Everything going okay with the shipwreck excavation?" asks King.

I nod. "Think so. I mean, I'm just the driver."

"True." He chuckles and sets a folded shirt aside. "You know, when you introduced us to the lead investigator, I kinda thought you might've had a thing for her. She seemed into you, at least. But since I never see you guys together…" He trails off, eyes locked on mine. "Maybe I was wrong?"

I clear my throat. "Yeah, we're not…I mean, I don't have a thing."

He eyes me with a slow nod. "Well, if you did have a thing for her…that would be okay." He pauses, but I won't meet his eyes. I stare down at the shirt in my hands. "You have a lot to offer a woman, Perry. You're a good guy. Loyal. Hardworking. Creative." I glance up at him, and he holds up his hands. "What? You are!" We go back to folding, and I pray he drops the subject.

He doesn't.

"Have you told her about the shop you want to open?" he asks. I shake my head. "Why not?"

"Hasn't come up."

"Hm," he hums, then sets the shirts aside and plants both hands on the counter in front of us. "You know, to let someone in, you've got to do just that—let them in. Maybe the cute archeologist isn't making a move because she doesn't know where you stand. Maybe she's expecting you to make the first move."

"King," I warn.

Again, he holds up his hands in a move of surrender. "Hey, I'm just trying to help. You're the one who came in here with Bertie looking like you were about to plan her funeral."

A heavy sigh drains out of me. "What made you say she seemed into me?" I watch his expression closely, doing my best to read each nuance in his face, which is difficult since I don't easily pick up on normal social cues.

"The way she looked at you. Like you're a mystery she wants to solve."

His words burrow into my chest and lace their way around my heart. They give me a hope I have no right to have. Not when I know she's leaving and when I know I'm not the catch King paints me out to be.

"She's not here to stay, though," I remind him. It's a statement that brokers no argument. She has a life and a career in Rhode Island. One that takes her all over the country. A long-distance relationship doesn't appeal to me in the slightest, not since I botched the last one I tried to make happen.

"Maybe not," King says, dragging me out of my thoughts. "But that doesn't mean you guys can't have something special while she's here."

I meet his eyes. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for that kind of thing."

He smiles and leans forward. "I get that. But just take it a day at a time. You never know what could happen."

The doorbell jingles, signaling a customer. "Be right with you," King calls, then pats me on the shoulder. "Whatever you do, don't let fear of the future hold you back, man. You aren't your dad, no matter what anyone tells you."

A pent-up breath leaves me as he walks away. I want to believe I'm different than Dad. In some ways, I know I am. Unlike him, I'd never cheat on a woman I was in a relationship with, especially not after seeing how devastating the consequences are. But I'm not na?ve enough to think that I'm better than him…He never opens up to the women he's with; he only ever lets them see the fa?ade he puts on for everyone else. He's struggled with depression for most of his life, yet no one knows that but his adult kids and the doctor who prescribes his meds.

It's ridiculous, really, the lengths he goes to just to hide something like that. But he's too afraid to let anyone in—too scared of true intimacy to really love a woman the way she deserves. And sometimes, I think that's me too.

Brandi constantly told me to open up, said she wished I'd talk more, give her more. But I didn't know how to. Not then, and definitely not now.

Bertie huffs at my feet, so I pick her up and wave to King as I head outside into the cool evening air, still mulling over the things he said. It's a short walk to the Shallow End, where I find Jerica already waiting for me at the bar.

"Hey, big bro," she says as I drop into the seat beside her. "Hey, Bert." She scratches underneath Bertie's chin before taking her from my arms and kissing her head. "Need me to doggie sit anytime soon? I miss this little muffin."

I wave the bartender over while Jerica showers Bertie with affection. "Nope. Not planning any trips anytime soon."

"Well, that's a shame."

I order us both a soda as Jerica sets Bertie on the floor. It doesn't take my dog but a second to make a little circle, then plop into a heap at our feet.

"So, how's it been going?" Jerica swivels to face me.

"Good, I guess. Just been busy between fishing and hauling Lola's crew out every day." She nods but doesn't meet my eyes. Almost as if she's distracted.

The bartender hands us our sodas and takes our orders. For me, it's chicken tenders and fries, and for Jerica it's fish n' chips.

"How about you?" I ask once the bartender steps away. "Lola mentioned you had a few showings this week."

She stiffens a bit at my mention of Lola, which sets off alarm bells in my head. Could something have happened between them? Is that why she seems off tonight?

"Yeah, I've had a few." Sipping her soda, she side-eyes me. "Has she…uh…said anything else about me lately?"

I narrow my eyes at her. "No. Why?" That's a weird thing to ask. Why wouldn't she want Lola to mention her? "Does it matter, though? I thought you guys were friends."

"We are." Her voice rises a little, her gaze still ping-ponging around the pool hall. I don't know why she's acting so weird, but something is up with her.

"Ugh, Weston is here," she whines. "I've seen enough of him lately." I turn my head to where she's staring and grunt when I see the man in question chatting up a couple of women beside a nearby pool table.

"Seeing him once in a lifetime is enough for me."

She snorts a laugh as she clinks our glasses together. "Amen to that."

I smile at her reaction, relieved she no longer gets sad or depressed when he comes around—proof that she's over him. Yet when I think of how she still hasn't moved on with anyone else, I'm reminded that we're probably more alike than we claim to be.

"Do you ever see yourself in another relationship?"

She blinks at me and sets her drink on the bar top. "Yeah. Sometimes. There just hasn't been anyone I want to take a chance on…you know?"

"Yeah." And I do. The longer I live in Willow Cove, the smaller it feels. It's not every day that someone new moves in, though tourists abound. But that's just it. They're here for a fun weekend, maybe a week or two, then they leave. Those types of people aren't exactly prime dating material.

"Do you?" she asks, prompting me to turn toward her. "Want to be in another relationship?"

Lola immediately comes to mind. I wish she didn't. But I can't deny the hold she has on me, even though she's now trying to avoid me. The fact that she refuses to engage in any type of meaningful conversation with me, not even to tease me, feels like a raw, stabbing ache in my chest, and no matter what I do, I can't shake it loose.

"I think I might."

A long sigh drains from Jerica, and she rubs her forehead, her tell that she's inwardly stressing out.

"What's the matter?" I ask.

"Nothing."

"Jerica," I say, lowering my voice. "I'm your brother. I know I'm not stellar by any stretch of the imagination, but you can talk to me. Even if it does have to do with your love life." I bump her with my elbow, and her face crumples.

I know that look—guilt mixed with pity.

"It's not about my love life." She purses her lips and turns away.

I don't like where this is going. "Jerica." My tone turns menacing, like it used to when I'd try to badger the truth out of her when we were kids. It usually worked before, so hopefully it still works its magic. "What did you do?"

Her fiery gaze meets mine. "Nothing you wouldn't have done for me."

My stomach sinks at the sheer number of possibilities she's alluding to. The bartender steps up with our food, pausing the conversation. I try and rein in my emotions, but it's hard when I know my sister might've done something irreparable.

"Jerica," I say calmly. "Tell me what happened."

She tosses a fry in her mouth and shrugs. "Nothing happened. I just…might've had a little chat with Lola."

My breath seizes in my chest. She had a chat with Lola? About me? My love life? And Lola's been avoiding me…

"What the heck, Jerica?"

She levels me with a glare that says she's not sorry in the least. "What? I did nothing wrong. All I did was tell her that if she wasn't going to stay around, she had no business leading you on."

I rub both hands down my face, frustration building in my chest.

"Perry, you guys spent the night together on your boat." Her accusatory tone grates on me. "Alone."

"You know nothing happened," I remind her. "I told you that I was injured and all she did was take care of me after getting us back safely to the dock."

"I saw her that morning, though, remember? I saw the look on her face." She shakes her head and points one of her pieces of fried fish at me like it's a tiny sword. "That night meant something to her. Or, I don't know, maybe she wanted it to mean something. She's falling for you, and I can tell that you're into her too. I can't just stand by and let it happen, knowing that you'll be devastated when she leaves."

All the anger leaves me at the sincerity in her voice. She takes a small bite of fish, then stares down at her basket of food. "Perry, you don't deserve to have your heart broken again. I love you and care about you, and you know that if it was me, you'd be saying the same thing to the guy pursuing me."

A long breath drains out of me. "Yeah, I know."

I stare at my food, unable to conjure up an appetite. My stomach is so sour, I doubt I'll eat for the rest of the night. Nothing looks appealing after hearing that Lola is keeping her distance from me because Jerica warned her away.

On one hand, my sister's protectiveness is sweet, comforting. On the other, I want to wring her neck for thinking she could interfere in my life in that way.

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Jer."

She leans an arm on the bar and rests her head on her hand. "No offense, Perry, but you don't fight enough of them for yourself. If I don't stand up for you, you'll wind up hurt again."

"I'm not weak, Jerica."

"I'm not saying that." She sighs. "All I mean to say is that while it's exciting to see you interested in a woman again, she needs to be the right woman. Not just the first one to come along and shake things up. I'm afraid you're only interested in Lola because she's new and intriguing. And persistent. And because for whatever reason, she sees past your grumpy exterior."

I lean back and shake my head, angry all over again.

"Don't get mad at me," she says, setting a hand on my arm. "I could be wrong, but—"

"You are wrong." She stills, staring at me. "And you were wrong to say anything to her about me. I love you and I respect your opinion, but you don't get to dictate who I see or who I care about. Had you come to me first, maybe this conversation would've gone differently. But you crossed a line, Jerica."

I stand and toss enough money onto the bar to pay for both of our meals. "I gotta go."

"Perry."

"See you later, sis."

I whistle for Bertie, then march toward the door, new purpose driving my feet forward.