Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
When we were kids, we’d explore this spot and build giant sandcastles. Margot and I would hide out in the shade from the hull while I weaved elaborate stories about pirate treasures and ghost crews trapped in its ruins.
‘Captain Harvey’s Coffin,’ we called it. We were convinced the old wreck just had to have a skeleton lurking around somewhere with a few morbid secrets.
Today, I’m thinking it’s just a cheap lobster ship that got tossed in a storm and blew over to this beach, maybe thirty or forty years ago.
I’m pretty sure Ethan used to bring girls here to make out with—at least until Holden got wise and quashed his fun.
As he tugs me to the old boat, the moody mask he wears dissolves into one of his rare smiles.
My heart skips.
I wonder if he’ll make out with me here today, and how I’m supposed to feel about that.
I’m not much different from his other hookups, minus the contract that says we’ll be hitched for six months.
Ethan carefully climbs up a few battered boards and enters the ship’s small cabin.
I follow reluctantly, reminding myself it’s not really haunted.
Ares pushes past me, sniffing the worn boards cautiously.
It’s just like I remember. Far too modern to be a pirate ship, but with just enough old, flaking sun-bleached wood for it to feel ancient to a kid.
Now, the wood bristles with happy memories.
Ethan’s eyes meet mine as his smile fades.
Maybe I don’t want him to kiss me like one of his old local girlfriends. This place is sacred to us in a way it never was with his hookups.
“Margot and I would screw around here all the time. We scared ourselves stupid with ghost stories.” I glance around the small space, a little dazed. “I think Margot even hid your smokes here once.” I bite my lip as I glance up at him, trying not to smile. “Payback for that time you buried her favorite sandals and told her they were under a clamshell. She dug around all day.”
“Brat had it coming,” he growls. “Does that mean she hid my old silver lighter? Never did find that thing.”
I shrug, because even though I was around, the heist was all Margot.
“Probably. Do you want it back? I didn’t think you smoked anymore.”
He forces open a drawer warped by age and moisture, peering inside.
“I don’t, but I still want that lighter. Gramps gave it to me for Christmas one year.”
Following his lead, I tap on the wall, trying to remember where we put it. It seems like the old boat has a ton of secret compartments, adding to its mystery.
Ethan works his way around the other side of the cabin, the ample muscles in his back shifting as he bends and taps every hollow space he can find.
I spend more time watching him than I do actively looking, hanging back to make sure Ares doesn’t get stuck in any of the small compartments.
He opens an old liquor cupboard.
Empty besides an empty whiskey bottle.
Frowning, he taps lightly around the walls.
Then with a victory cry, a square board pulls loose.
Even in the dim light, it isn’t hard to see something small and silver gleaming inside.
“Jackpot! Hey, come hold this,” he says, reaching in and passing the treasure over. Leonidas never supported Ethan’s smoking habit, but this antique lighter is a thing of beauty, carved with Ethan’s initials. “Go ahead. Try it out.”
I flick it open and jump when I try the switch, surprised to see a flame.
“Dang. It still works.”
“I hope so,” Ethan says, but he’s distracted, still frowning at the hidden cupboard. “There’s something else in here. What else did you guys steal?”
“Huh? I have no clue.” I forget about the lighter as I lean over, trying to see past him.
He slowly pulls out two ancient pieces of paper stuck together.
They’re crinkled and slightly water damaged, having clearly been left there for a long time. One of the edges is uneven and feathered soft, like it’s been ripped.
I put the lighter in my pocket and step closer. “What is it?”
He turns it over, frowning at the spidery black writing.
“A letter, I think. From Gramps.”
I chance a quick look at Ethan’s face, trying to see his reaction. “Do you think we should read it? Someone clearly hid it away.”
“Looks like it’s written to my mother,” he says absently, like he doesn’t hear me. “Fuck, he must’ve wrote this a long time ago. Before I was born, I think.” He holds the two pieces together, trying to read it, but the ink looks faded and there isn’t good light.
“What does it say?”
“I’m trying.” He frowns. “Can’t quite make it out. Something about my dad, for sure. Here it says… I wish you would slow down, darling. Don’t do anything rash. However, since I’ve ‘done enough damage’—your very accurate words—I won’t dare stop you from taking your money and leaving. Your forgiveness is all I will ever ask for on bended knee.”