Break Me (The Wolf Hotel Book 2)

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.