A Vine Mess (Love on the Vine #4)

8. Liam

Anyone I know?

Fuck, what a loaded question.

I mentally scrambled, grappling for purchase on the walls of my mind, searching for a way out of this without spilling my guts all over the interior of this van.

“Ahh, no,” I eventually choked out. “She’s just…some girl from Traverse City. It fizzled out.”

The words felt like glass on my throat, scraping their way out.

I fucking hated lying to her. But I couldn’t admit the truth. Not yet at least.

We were a far cry from me letting Ella in on my deepest, darkest secret.

“Fair enough,” she said, moving on as quickly as she’d picked up that thread of conversation. “I think I’m going to give you a nickname.”

I scrunched my brows together in confusion. Her brain must work a thousand miles a minute. “ Liam already is a nickname. ”

“Yeah, but it’s the name everyone calls you. I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Wildflower,” I assured her.

I glanced at her quickly, pleased to find her beaming at me. “Thank you. And just like you have a super special nickname for me, I’m giving you one.”

I raised my hand and moved my fingers in a bring it on gesture. “Let’s hear it then.”

She tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully, then said, “ Wills .”

I snorted. “Very original.”

Ella hummed happily. “I think it’s cute. Reminds me of the Prince.”

I raised a brow, gesturing to my body. “I hate to break it to you, but I definitely don’t give off princely vibes. I’m more like…Quasimodo.”

Ella snorted right as she sipped her water, accidentally inhaling it into her windpipe if the wheezing, hacking sounds she made trying to clear it were any indication. She bent in half, gasping for air as I pounded on her back.

“Jesus, Wildflower. Breathe .”

“I’m…trying,” she croaked.

At last, she straightened, inhaled the first deep breath she’d managed in minutes, and let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Quasimodo,” she said with a head shake. “You are so far from Quasimodo, it’s not even funny.”

“I never would’ve said it had I known it’d nearly send you to your death. ”

Ella waved me off. “I’m fine. But damn, Wills. Who knew you had a sense of humor?”

I shrugged. It existed—at least, it used to. Now, that part of me lay buried deep beneath the layers of a relationship that hadn’t worked out and all of the ways I’d tried to forget about it.

Maybe the townsfolk of Apple Blossom Bay were onto something when they glared, whispered behind their hands, or outright avoided me when I walked down the street. I wasn’t exactly the most friendly man.

But I used to be. Before…everything.

And now here I was, hurtling down the highway on a journey that would ultimately end with me right back where it all started—and fell apart.

At the very least, I was making it my personal mission to ensure Ella attended Sam’s wedding with me, if only for emotional support. Showing up alone, and facing all of those people by myself wasn’t high on my list of priorities. I knew if I asked, and explained the situation, Ella wouldn’t hesitate to do me a solid. But I didn’t want her to feel obligated, didn’t want her to feel like some human shield I needed between me and my and Mellie’s families.

I wanted her to want to be by my side, exactly like I wished for her to be since the day I met her.

Ella was quiet as she marveled at the scenery around us, which wasn’t too different from where we lived, actually. That was until she realized how unreliable cell phone reception was between St. Ignace and Munising.

She held her phone up toward the ceiling and whined. “How do people live like this? ”

“They get used to it,” I deadpanned. “Now stop being a brat and just enjoy the ride.”

Ella gasped theatrically. “Well, I never…” she said, affecting a horrible high-society accent.

I chuckled and spared her a quick glance, pleased to find she was grinning at me.

The rest of the trip passed quickly after that, and soon, we were driving through the small town of Munising.

“Oh my god,” Ella said as we pulled into a parking space down by the city dock, where boats of various sizes were tied up, including the cruise ships that took tourists out for a view of Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. “This is…dreamy.”

I hummed in agreement. “It’s truly one of my favorite places.”

A lot of people knew about the area, of course; I’d spent enough time here on quick trips over the years to ingratiate myself with the locals. I liked to pretend I was one of them. And I’d heard the stories about how this small, sometimes sleepy town turned into a hotbed of activity between Memorial and Labor Days.

It was a lot like Old Mission in that regard, when our town of six hundred residents swelled with an influx of tourist activity from June to September and beyond.

But there were even more who had no idea such a natural gem existed on the shores of Lake Superior in this one-stoplight town.

“You’ve been here before?” Ella asked as we got out of the van and crossed into the grassy bayshore park.

Ella seemed content to follow my lead, her head on a constant swivel as she appreciated the scenery.

“Loads of times,” I said. “It’s my favorite weekend getaway. ”

“Reminds me of home,” she murmured, tipping her face toward the sun, her large sunglasses blocking her eyes from my view.

“That’s why I like it so much,” I agreed. “I get that same sense of peace here as I do in Apple Blossom Bay.”

I jerked my head in the direction of the massive, T-shaped dock, and she trailed behind me as I led us toward it, then pulled up to my side as I stepped on.

“There are two major boat cruises in town,” I explained. “This is Pictured Rocks Cruises”—I hooked a thumb over my shoulder at the white and blue building behind us—“which takes guests on a tour of the hot spots along the Lakeshore.” Then I pointed across the Bay to the west. “Over there is Shipwreck Tours. Munising Bay has a number of wrecks and one ship that was sunk intentionally for diving purposes. That tour has glass bottom boats, and the water is clear enough that you can see all the way to the wrecks.”

Ella shivered, and I raised a brow at her.

“Shipwrecks freak me out,” she explained.

“I think there’s a name for that.”

“Submechanophobia,” she supplied quickly.

“What about them bothers you, exactly?” I asked. Not in a judgemental way, more out of curiosity.

“Drowning seems like a pretty terrible way to go, don’t you think?” Another chill swept through her, and she wrapped her arms around herself. I felt bad enough that I nearly took her into my own arms to comfort her. “And it’s…dark and cold down there. You could get trapped, and you never know what’s hiding in those ruins. ”

I nodded. “That makes perfect sense.”

We reached the end of the dock and the top of the T that branched off to our left and right. A smaller cruise ship docked to the right, Miss Superior emblazoned on her hull. Back at the shore on the other side, a large Catamaran waited while passengers loaded onto its decks, preparing to hit the open water.

Along the left side were smaller, wooden docks where vessels ranging from speed and fishing boats to pontoons and jet skis were tied up and bobbing on the smooth surface. People milled about, enjoying the unseasonably warm weather.

“What is that?” Ella asked, pointing out into the bay, where a landmass rose from the lake.

“Grand Island.”

“So they get all of this”—she spread her arms out and gestured to the scene around us—“and their own little island too? Seems unfair.”

I chuckled. “Ella, you grew up in a winery.”

“I want to see the island,” she said, ignoring my comment. “Can we check it out on our kayaking trip?”

I flicked my wrist to check my watch, realizing we needed to head out if we wanted to get to the other side of town in time to set off.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Well, Liam Danvers, as I live and breathe.”

A giant grin broke across my face as I took in the woman before me. It had been long enough since I’d last seen her that I easily clocked the newer, deeper lines creasing her face and the silver streaks glimmering under the sun in her otherwise chestnut hair. She was fit for a woman in her early fifties, though her body showed the softening signs of aging. Her spine remained ramrod straight as ever for her years in the service—though I forget which branch—and the top of her head came to somewhere around my collarbones.

“Dori,” I replied, holding my arms wide for her to step into them. I swept her in a bear hug and spun her around. “It’s been too damn long.”

When I returned her to her feet, she swatted at me then placed her fists on the swells of her hips. “And whose fault is that?”

I grimaced. “Sorry, work has been crazy.”

She waved a hand, ire instantly forgotten. “Trust me, I get it. I was more than a little pleased to see your name pop up for today’s charter, though.”

“You know I won’t go anywhere else.”

“And I’m grateful for it.”

I gestured behind her to the boat that would haul us and the sea kayaks out into open water. “Let’s get this show on the road then.”

Dori pursed her lips and inclined her head toward something behind me. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Oh!” I yelped, feeling like the biggest ass for having momentarily forgotten about Ella. “Ella, this is our captain, Dori. Dori, this is my friend Ella.”

I practically choked on the word “friend,” but neither of them pointed it out if they noticed.

Dori extended a hand, which Ella accepted and shook. “ Pleasure to meet you, Ella. How’d you meet this one?” She turned to me then and added, “What’re you even doing here? Aren’t you guys about to head into busy season?”

“He works for my family’s winery,” Ella said, answering the first of Dori’s questions.

“And we’re taking a cross-country road trip,” I added to clarify the second. “Had to get it in now before the tourists descend.”

Dori chuckled. “Don’t I know it. The fact that it’s still slow is the only reason I can afford to take just the two of you out.”

I scoffed. “I paid an arm and a leg for this private charter, thank you very much.”

Ella’s eyes swung to me. “Private charter?”

“I don’t like crowds,” I shrugged. Ella only nodded in understanding.

“Grumpy bastard,” Dori mumbled, though loud enough for us all to hear.

“I’m not grumpy,” I muttered as she led us onto the boat and immediately began directing us through security protocol. A boy who couldn’t have been older than twenty waited on board, gesturing to life jacket storage and other safety instruments as Dori mentioned them.

“This is my son, Marshall,” Dori said. “He’s my first mate today.”

I knew how old Dori was, yet I was still taken aback by the fact that she had adult children. To me, Dori was life personified: she wore a black bandana looped around her neck that she’d shove over her hair before the end of our trip, thick, polarized sunglasses, and no-nonsense khaki cargo shorts and a grey tank that exposed her brown arms and the sleeve of tattoos on her left one.

She was so fucking cool, and her energy instantly put me at ease the first time I’d met her. There was no bullshit, and she didn’t tolerate drama or gossip.

“So where are we headed?” she asked as she stood at the wheel, flicking random controls. A moment later, the boat rumbled to life beneath our feet, the heavy vibration instantly soothing me.

“Ella wants to see the island,” I told Dori. “And maybe we head out toward Miners?”

“Consider it done!” Dori agreed with a mock salute in my direction.

At last we backed away from the dock and set off into open water, picking up speed the further from the shore we got. Ella and I stood at the bow, the wind whipping her hair into a frenzy around her head, and I had to hold my hat onto mine. Her tattooed fingers casually gripped the railing, and I was mesmerized by the way she closed her eyes and sank into the sensation of the sunshine on her skin, the scents of the lake stirred up and wafted around us as we cut through the water. She looked so at peace.

We were only four hours from home and already she was coming out of her shell, like a flower blooming in the spring. I’d believed her when she said she needed this escape from her family and all the other people in town who refused to stay out of her business, but hearing it from her mouth and witnessing the near-immediate change first hand were two entirely different things.

Even if nothing happened with us, I was glad I could be the one to give her this.