Chapter Eighteen
I spot the staff beach, a small sandy inlet with a couple of canoes and
kayaks and a paddleboat. It’s empty at this time of day, which means I
won’t have to talk to anyone.
I stroll down the dock, a single stretch of three four-foot sections—
tiny compared to the one that receives the ferries and other boats—and
perch myself on the end where I can wallow in my own misery.
Curious to see what Mama found so offensive about that picture, I
pull my phone out of my pocket and open up Twitter to check the Wolf
Hotel account. I’d never been on Twitter before coming to Alaska, but
Autumn got me on it, insisting that any good assistant should keep an eye
out for things posted online about her boss, when her boss is Henry Wolf.
Sure enough, several media outlets posted pictures from Saturday
night’s gala, including plenty of Henry in his tux, looking as dashing as he
does in real life.
If only people knew what a complete asshole he can be when you piss
him off.
It takes a bit of scrolling, but I find the picture that must have Mama
all up in arms. I’m standing behind Henry and to the right. I could easily
pass for mid-to-late twenties in this picture, my hair a glossy deep red with
auburn and gold highlights, my cheekbones high and defined so nicely.
Katie’s super-bra makes my breasts stand front and center and my waist
even tinier than it normally looks next to them. The skirt is a few inches
above my knee, which would irk Mama some, but it’s not like my butt is
hanging out. And my legs look incredible in the heels I borrowed from
Rachel, my calf muscles straining just like hers were the day I admired her.
I don’t think I’ve ever looked at a picture of myself and truly loved
the way I looked. And I’ve never looked sexy. Not until now.
No wonder Mama thinks I look like a jezebel.
I’m just sliding my phone back into my pocket when it rings, startling
me. I close my eyes and heave a sigh, dreading the number from home
showing up on the screen again. I swear, if Mama is calling to give me more
grief, I’m going to scream.
But it’s not Mama.
It’s Jed.
I don’t know if that’s worse or better.
“Abigail! Hey. I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”
I instantly pick up on that apologetic tone—low and soft, and contrite.
The one Jed always used on me when he had upset me.
“What’s up?” I’ll bet Mama just got off the phone with the
Enderbeys, recapping our entire conversation.
“Nothing much. I just realized how long it’s been since I heard your
voice. It’s been forever.”
“Yeah, it has been.” That’s because you cheated on me.
“So what have you been up to in Alaska? Making friends and stuff?”
I haven’t really made much of an effort, to be honest, so wrapped up
with Henry. Kind of sad, really. Not that I’m going to tell Jed that. “Yeah.
I’ve made some decent friends.”
“And you changed your hair?”
Great. First Mama, now Jed. “I saw the pics and I think I looked
great. So if you’re calling to tell me I look like a jezebel, I’m going to hang
up on you, Jed.”
“Whoa! Whoa, relax.” He chuckles. “You didn’t look like a jezebel.
You looked good. Like, really good. Just... not like the Abigail I remember.”
“I’m not her anymore.” I’m not sure who I am.
“Yeah, I’m getting that feeling.” There’s a hint of something in his
voice. “So... are you, like...”
“Just spit it out, Jed.”
“Are you seeing someone?”
I hesitate, so tempted to lie. But then I’d no doubt be dealing with
another phone call from Mama tonight. “No.”
He heaves what sounds like a sigh of relief. “That’s what I told your
Mama, but she’s all worried.”
Why? Why is Jed so sure I’m not with anyone?
And why the hell is he calling me?
Suddenly I want to make him uncomfortable. “So, how’s Cammie?”
We’ve never talked openly about her. I’ve never so much as uttered her
name to him. It’s been like a curse word.
He stumbles over his words. “Fine. Uh... we take turns driving back
and forth on weekends to see each other. It’s a long way. A lot of gas. And
she doesn’t really love Greenbank or spending so much time around the
church, which is kind of a problem, seeing how involved our family is.” He
pauses. “She’s not you, Abigail. I miss you.”
A month ago, I was dying to hear him say that. To give me hope that
this was all a terrible nightmare that I’d wake up from eventually. But now I
hear it and it just reminds me how pathetic I was for not whipping that
promise ring at his head the day I caught him cheating on me.
I still have that stupid thing sitting in a box on my little ledge by my
bed. I’m going to chuck it into the water the first chance I get.
I don’t know if this call is his first step in trying to gain a
reconciliation, or keep me on the leash he thinks he still has me on, but
either way, I won’t let him worm his way in, not when I’m so vulnerable.
“No, she won’t ever be me, but that was your choice and now you’re stuck
with her. Or you can find someone else. It doesn’t matter, because we’re
over.”
I imagined saying something like that in my head more than once, but
it always ended in what-if questions. What if I regret it? What if I say it and
I can’t ever take it back?
But now I’ve said it out loud and I haven’t crumpled with instant
remorse. In fact, it felt oddly liberating. Jed has all but vanished from my
thoughts since I’ve come to Alaska.
All because of Henry.
The man who has left me brimming with a full range of emotions.
Who I began to care for deeply. Who has lied to me, hurt me, threatened
me.
Who I have blackmailed.
Who maybe, just maybe, I may have hurt. Because why else would he
so swiftly fire Michael? Why else would he so quickly turn so cruel?
It will never excuse the fact that he slept with Roshana and her friend
on Saturday night, and that’s the only reason I was even in Michael’s bed
that night. He probably thought I wouldn’t find out. He, of all people,
should know how word spreads around here. Cameras, everywhere. Eyes,
everywhere.
Or maybe he just plain didn’t care if I ever found out, because he also
assumed I’d accept it, the same way that I basically accepted how badly Jed
treated me.
If there is one positive outcome to this entire mess with Henry, it’s
that my small-town farm-girl naivety has been effectively squashed.
“Come on, Abigail.”
So lost in my thoughts, I forgot that I have Jed in my ear. “Come on,
what?” I wipe away the tear that trickles down my cheek. Not for Jed. For
the cruel disappointment that is Henry.
“You know we’re meant to be together.”
I watch a family of ducks float along the edge of the water, weaving
in and out of the rocky shoreline, three of the four little ducklings following
their mama in a row while the fourth veers off course, earning a loud
squawk of annoyance until it gets back in line. Only to veer away again,
like it wants to go on its own path. “We were meant to be together, and then
you broke us. And honestly? I think I’m glad you did. Otherwise I’d still be
floating along in the line like that duck, going exactly where Mama wants
me to go.” I’m in a world of hurt and anger right now, and yet for some
reason I still don’t regret coming to Alaska, or falling for Henry. I probably
should.
Maybe I’ve gone from being pathetic to just plain screwed up.
“Duck? What duck?”
“The family of ducks on the water! The ones—” I roll my eyes at
myself. Why am I explaining anything to Jed? “Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t still love me. We’ll be more than friends
again one day. You’ll see. You’re just being stubborn but, whether you
realize it or not, you’re waiting for me.”
Jed always was a bit too confident for his own good. I’d grown so
used to it that I never really noticed it anymore. But now I do, and it sparks
the fit of rage that should have hit me when he told me to wait for him—to
save myself for him—all those months ago.
“I am not waiting for you! And it’s Abbi, not Abigail!” My voice
echoes across the cove, sending the ducks speeding away and likely
disturbing guests at the hotel. I hang up and stick my phone into my pocket
before I do what I really want to do right now—pitch it as far as I can into
the water so I never have to talk to anyone from Greenbank, Pennsylvania,
again.
“So she can get angry.”
I gasp and jump at the deep male voice before heaving a sigh. “What
do you want, Ronan?”
His boots scrape across the dock. “You’re in my spot.”
“Your spot?”
“I come down here every night after dinner. So, yeah, it’s my spot.”
He eases down beside me, crossing his legs beneath him. In one hand he
has a beer, and the other a cigarette, which surprises me because I never
saw him smoke at work.
“Fine.” I make to stand.
“I’m kidding. Stay for a bit.” He sticks the cigarette between his lips
and flicks the lighter to it. When he peers over to see me glaring at him and
it, he merely shrugs.
We sit in silence, me staring out at the water and trying to memorize
the beauty of this peaceful night, the sun still high in the sky, the water calm
and blue, while Ronan quietly puffs away, the stench of the smoke wafting
through the air.
“You’re polluting Alaska.”
“Yeah, I know, but it goes hand in hand with the beer.” He adjusts
himself and his leg bumps against mine.
I instinctively pull back, tucking my knees up under my arms, to rest
my chin on and bring some warmth to my body. The evening chill is
already in the air, and I’m wishing I brought a warmer sweater.
“Who was the guy on the phone?”
“Nobody.”
“Nobody that you’re not waiting for?”
“Exactly.”
He takes another long drag. “So, he cheated on you?”
I frown and replay my conversation.
“Cammie,” he offers.
Great. Ronan was standing there and listening for awhile.
I don’t answer.
“How long were you two together?”
“Why?”
He chuckles. “You don’t trust me, do you?”
“Why would I trust you?” I turn to take in those haunting green eyes
of his, amusement sparkling in them. “I know what you want. I’ve seen
firsthand what you want, so don’t sit here and pretend to care while you
look for my weak spots.”
“I never said I cared, and don’t worry—” A wry smile touches his
lips. “—I can already peg you inside and out, including all your weak
spots.”
I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear what Ronan thinks of me, and yet
I can’t stop myself from provoking him. “I doubt that.”
He smirks as if hearing the challenge. Pausing to take a long sip of his
beer, he unleashes his thoughts on me. “You’ve been a nice girl and a good
daughter all your life. You use your manners, you look for ways to help
people, you’re constantly looking for approval from everyone around you,
always listening to what your parents and teachers and church ask you to
do, never wanting to piss people off. The thought of being away from your
family for an entire summer was never something you would have
imagined.
“But then something happened—something to do with that guy on the
phone, I’m guessing—and you decided to run as far away as you could to
get away from it. That’s why you’re in Alaska. Am I right so far?” He
breaks to take a puff of his cigarette.
And I struggle to keep my mouth from hanging open.
“What I can’t figure out is if you were a virgin before you let Aspen
in you, or not. I’m guessing whatever you had with the guy back home was
PG-13 or straight lights-off, missionary style.”
I keep my gaze on the ducks, unwilling to give him any answers with
my eyes, even as my cheeks burn. How does he know about Michael?
“Oh yeah. What’d you think was going to come up a second after you
left the dining table? You thought the Aussie was going to keep your little
secret?” Ronan chuckles and it makes me want to punch him. “Then again,
it wouldn’t make sense if you gave it up to Aspen after holding out on
someone special back home. I mean, I know Aspen was hung up on you; he
wouldn’t stop talking about you since he met you at Wolf’s. But you’re not
the type to just run into a guy, go back to his place and fuck him, no matter
how upset you are over walking in on me with your roommates. How’d you
like watching that, by the way?”
“I.... You’re depraved.” I wonder what kind of home life he has. It
can’t be good. His parents are probably criminals and drug addicts.
He smirks. “You think that now. But when you stop being ashamed of
what you want, you’ll see that there’s more than one kind of friendship.”
“That won’t be happening.” I move to get up.
“I saw the look in your eyes, Abbi. You can keep lying to yourself but
don’t bother lying to me. You were more than just curious. There’s no way
seeing that is what made you so upset. Something else—or someone—did
something to you. To hurt you bad.”
I don’t like the edge in Ronan’s voice. Like there’s a secret lingering
on the tip of his tongue.
He takes another long puff of his cigarette. “Must have been
something, working with a guy like Wolf day in, day out.”
And there it is.
My stomach drops instantly.
Ronan’s not fishing for information. He actually knows. Or strongly
suspects.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the panic, biting my tongue to keep
me from begging him not to voice his suspicions. Waiting for him to add on
his price for silence. Something sick and corrupt, no doubt.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to say a word about it. To anyone.”
Liar. This is horrible. Will Ronan be my undoing?
“Look at me, red.”
When I don’t respond, rough fingers land on my chin and lead my
head toward him more gently than I’d believe Ronan capable. Finally I dare
face his eyes.
“I’m not going to say a word about it.”
I won’t acknowledge his promise, because acknowledging it would
mean he’s right, and maybe he’s still unsure. Maybe he’s like Scott, trying
to trick me into admitting what he can’t otherwise prove.
“Man, he did a real number on you, didn’t he?”
They. They did a real number on me. I’m pretty sure I’m going to
swear off all men—handsome or not—from now on.
Especially this one.
“Live and learn, right?” I’m learning. Boy, am I learning. I climb to
my feet. “You’ve got your spot back.” My footfalls make a hollow sound
along the dock as I retreat to shore.
“Hey.” His back is still to me. “I’m not as bad as you think I am.
We’ll be friends one day.” All traces of humor are gone from his voice.
“I’m not so sure. Remember, I’ve seen what you do to your friends.”
He turns to peer over his shoulder at me. “Give yourself some time.
You’ll learn to trust again.”
“Maybe.”
Ronan’s right. He did do a real number on me.
And I’m not talking about Jed.
