Wolf Bite (Wolf Cove #2) (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

My hands tremble as I hit the doorbell on Cabin
One.

I have no idea if he’s home.
If he’s alone.

Please be alone
.

The door opens up and a
freshly showered Henry stands there.

“You lied to me.” It’s barely
a whisper.

He says nothing, stepping
back to allow me in. I walk through, inhaling his cologne with a shaky breath.
I haven’t been in here since the day I discovered him gone. It looks the exact
same.

The desk he laid me out on is
still there, with his laptop set up on it.

The dining table he tied my
wrists up on now holds dishes from room service.

Henry strolls past me,
seemingly unconcerned. “Miles!”

A young, brown-haired guy who
I’ve seen around pokes his head through the service entrance door. “Yes, Mr.
Wolf?”

“You can call it a day.
Please be back tomorrow at 8:00 a.m.”

“Yes, sir.” He disappears.
Moment later I hear the door shut. I peer out the small window by the front
door to see him trudging along the covered path.

“He’s not the type to
eavesdrop, if that’s what you’re worried about.” A tiny smirk curls Henry’s
lip, but otherwise he shows me nothing.

I can’t even begin to know
how to approach this the right way, so I don’t bother. I just blurt out, “You lied
to me. You told me that you slept with her, but you didn’t.” My voice breaks at
the end.

His eyes graze over me. “Isn’t
that what you wanted to hear?”

“What? Why on earth would I
want to think that you slept with someone else? You should have told me the
truth!”

He pauses, his fingers on a
glass. Of water, it seems. The decanter of scotch remains untouched. “All I’ve
ever told you is the truth, Abbi. I told you things would be different for a
few days. I told you that I didn’t have time for jealousy. I told you that I
didn’t fuck anyone on Friday night. I told you that my brother is a liar and
manipulator. I told you that I wouldn’t beg you to believe me.” He fires the
list off without pause, as if he’s got them itemized on a sheet of paper, the
anger seeping through his words. But then he falters. “I told you that I
trusted you. All of these things were the truth. Truth that you chose to either
ignore or interpret differently.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. He
did
tell me all those things. “You should have told me the truth about what
happened that night.”

“Why?”

“Because then I wouldn’t have
hated you so much.”

He steps closer to me. “I
figured it would hurt you less than telling you the truth. That, while you were
lying under Michael, letting him fuck you, I was sitting in my cabin alone,
considering whether I should be selfish and fire you as a Wolf employee so I
could keep you for myself and avoid all this hassle.”

His words are a kick to my
stomach.

It finally clicks.

Henry didn’t cheat on me.

Technically, I cheated on
him
.

Tears fall freely now. I
don’t bother holding them back. This is
all
my fault. I fucked up. I
messed everything up between us.

“Did I
want
to hurt
you?” Henry watches a tear slide down my cheek, but he doesn’t reach up to
catch it, to wipe it away. “Yeah, I did. Because I was angry. At you. At
myself. Had I known you’d run off and fuck the first guy who put his arm around
you, maybe I would have handled things differently.” His jaw tenses. “Never in
a million years did I think you’d go and do something like that. You surprised
me, Abbi, and not in a good way. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Tears spill from my eyes. “I
saw you leave with them. I thought—”

“I
told
you I
wouldn’t, Abbi. But that wasn’t enough for you.” A brief wave of emotion flares
in his eyes before he’s able to get it under control, to ice me out. “And then
you tried to threaten me, something else I never thought you’d do. So I did and
said some things that I can’t ever take back.” He sighs. “And now there’s no
going back. There’s no fixing it.”

I try to stifle my cries with
a hand over my mouth, his words stripping away the anger and blame I’ve used as
a shield, leaving me unprotected and raw.

I wanted a miracle, a reason
to believe Henry wasn’t all bad. He’s just given it to me, and it doesn’t
matter. I screwed up with Henry. Oh God, I screwed up
so
badly.

“I’m so sorry,” I manage to
get out through my sobs before I bolt out the door.

~ ~ ~

Whispers surround my privacy curtain. I hear their
questions, their concern, but I stay curled up in a ball, facing the wall, and
no one bothers me. Not after I screamed at Tillie, telling her to mind her own
damn business and stop looking for gossip.

This hurts a million times more than thinking that Henry
cheated on me.

I
cheated on him.

I mean, we weren’t technically “officially” an exclusive item.

But he trusted me to believe him and
not
go and sleep
with another guy, and I did exactly that. I fucked everything up. I caused this
pain. Me, who was crushed by Jed only months earlier for sleeping with another
girl.

My head tells me that it’s nothing like what Jed did to me,
because Jed and I were getting married. Jed and I shared a childhood of
memories and promises, of plans. We already had a life. There was no doubt that
we
were
exclusive and committed to each other.

And yet, down to my core—and every fiber of my body—I know
that Henry owned me from the first time I gazed into his eyes, my head spinning
from alcohol, my heart spinning from betrayal.

What have I done?

A knock sounds on the door and a moment later, angry voices.

“Is this because of you?” Katie hisses.

A guy sighs. “Yeah.”

I immediately recognize Ronan’s voice.

“You are
such
a dick!” The sound of skin slapping
against skin ricochets through the cabin. “Make it better.”

The curtain shifts and, a moment later, weight hits my
mattress as Ronan crawls toward me to stretch out next to me. I can see the red
mark where Katie’s hand made contact with his cheek. It must have hurt, but he
doesn’t show it, wedging his arm under my head and pulling me against him. He
leans in to place a soft kiss on my mouth.

I pull away. “Don’t, Ronan. I’m not in the—”

“Shut up.” He brushes the hair off my face. “I’m not here
for that. I’m not Aspen.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t think I’ve ever regretted
anything so much as that night.

Ronan’s arms tighten around me, pulling my face into his
chest, the smell of his soap comforting.

“You took the blame with them,” I whisper, my fingertips
sliding over his cheek.

He shrugs. “I’m sure I’ve already earned it somewhere. Now cry
all you want, red. I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

And I do, muffling my sobs against his t-shirt, soaking the
cotton material.

I cry over Henry and what can never be fixed.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Someone is shaking me awake.

“Yeah. I’m trying.... Abbi?” Ronan’s sleepy voice fills my
ear. I’m still burrowed against his chest, exactly as I was when I fell asleep.
I don’t want to move, or even open my eyes, which I’m sure are swollen and red.

“Abbi, you need to take this.”

Finally, the urgency in his voice clicks. I peel my face off
him to find him holding my phone in his hand.

“It kept vibrating, so I finally answered it. Seemed
important.”

Oh crap.
“Who is it?” If that’s Mama, I will never
hear the end of this.

“Some guy named Jed.”

Jed? I frown. I haven’t talked to him since the night I told
him that we were done. I take the phone, a tiny bite of satisfaction lifting my
spirits that Jed called here in the morning and a guy answered. “Hello?”

“Abigail, I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning.
Your dad had an accident.”

I bolt up. “What do you mean
an accident
?”

“He rolled his tractor.”

“What?” I heard him, but I don’t believe it. My dad’s been
driving tractors in the fields since he was ten years old.

“On that slope near the back of the property. Your mom
called our house on the way to the hospital, and she asked me to get hold of
you.”

“Well, how bad is it?”

There’s a long pause. “It’s bad, Abbi. You know him, not
bothering to buckle up. He was tossed, and then it rolled onto him. Definitely
broken bones, probably internal bleeding. I.... It doesn’t look good. Look, you
need to come home. We don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

A strange wave of shock washes over me, throwing me into an
odd state of calm. “Yeah. Of course. I just.... I don’t know how long it will
take. Just, tell Mama I’m coming. And call me as soon as you hear something.”

“For sure.”

“Thanks, Jed.”

“Of course. He’s like a dad to me.”

I hang up the phone, my blood rushing in my ears. “My dad rolled
his tractor. He’s hurt really bad. They don’t think he’s going to make it.” Is
that even me speaking? It doesn’t sound right. “I need to get home.” I frown at
Ronan. “How do I get home?” I’m in Alaska!

He checks his watch. “John leaves with the supply ferry in
half an hour. Hop on that.”

“Right.” I look around at my little bunk cubby, at the shelf
that holds a picture of my parents when they were young. I guess I should pack.
I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. “Do I call Darryl?” Or Belinda? I haven’t
talked to her since the day I moved to the crew.

“Don’t worry about Darryl. I’ll tell him.”

“Okay, then. I guess... I’m packing.”

And leaving Alaska.

~ ~ ~

“Tell the airline that it’s an emergency and they
might be able to work something out for you,” John says, spinning the wheel
with ease. The small ferry that I arrived on oh so long ago churns water as it heads
toward Homer. “It likely won’t be cheap but emergencies never are, are they?”

“No. I guess not.” I stare back at the hotel, at the guests
out for early morning walks or preparing for a peaceful kayak tour of the cove,
their days full of promise.

I haven’t even had a chance to grasp my current reality. I
stuffed my duffel bag in a mad dash and said a quick good-bye to Rachel and
Lorraine, who were the only ones around. Ronan walked me to the dock and left
me with a fierce hug. He promised to say bye to Connor for me.

But now I can’t do anything but stand idly and wait for
whatever’s going to happen to happen, good or bad.

Penthouse Cabin One is now visible as we gain distance from
the beach, perched atop the cliff and overlooking the waters. I can’t help but
watch it as we drift, wondering if I should have said good-bye to Henry. Should
have apologized again. If that would have made today any less horrible.

Movement on the front porch catches my attention. I squint against
the blue sky and morning sun to focus on the tall form leaning against the
rail, coffee in hand.

My heart stutters.

It’s him.

Does he see me? The red in my hair isn’t as vibrant as it
once was.

Does he even care?

Should I wave?

If I do, and he doesn’t respond....

I grip the railing tightly to avoid the temptation and
potential letdown, the hollow ache in my chest growing.

~ ~ ~

“Miss Mitchell?”

I hear my name called. An older gentleman stands by,
watching as John docks the ferry. He’s dressed in slacks and a golf shirt, and though
I have to guess that he’s local, he looks completely out of place next to the
fishermen busy loading crates and supplies onto their boats, their beard unshaven,
their clothes thrown on haphazardly.

“Yes?” I’m instantly wary. But John’s here, I remind myself.
He wouldn’t let something happen to me.

“My name is Sam. Belinda from Wolf Cove asked that I bring
you to the airport.” He pops open the ferry door and holds out a hand, palm
raised. “Here. Let me take your bag.”

“Thanks.” I hand it to him. The airport can’t be more than a
ten-minute drive from the port, but... okay. That was nice of her.

“You gonna be okay, Abbi?” John frowns at me. “You look a
little green.”

“I took my motion sickness medication on an empty stomach.”

“Oh. Well, alright. Best of luck that you get that flight
home as soon as possible. I’ll say a prayer for your father.”

I smile at the old man. It strikes me that I’ll probably
never see him again. “Thank you, John. Enjoy Alaska.”

“Oh, don’t you worry.” He chuckles, his gray-blue eyes
drifting over the mountain range in the distance. “I always do. Every morning,
and every night.”

With that, I trail Sam along the dock.

~ ~ ~

“Isn’t that the turnoff?” I point at the simple driveway and
the rustic rectangular sign that reads Homer Airport.

“Oh, yeah. But we’re not going there. They asked me to take
you up to the airstrip, about twenty miles north-east of Homer.”

I catch Sam’s eyes on me in the rearview mirror. He must see
my confusion. “You have a family emergency or somethin’, it sounds like?”

“Yeah.” I don’t really want to explain it, so I check my
phone, even though I know there are no new calls or texts. My phone has sat clutched
within my grasp since I left the hotel, as I anxiously wait for any news.

“Well, you probably weren’t gonna have much luck gettin’ a
commercial flight out this morning. Maybe to Anchorage, but then you’d be
waiting a while there. And God only knows where you’d end up next. This guy, he’ll
help get you where you need to go quick.”

I’m picturing a small six-seater plane and a puke bag in my
future, but if it gets me home, then I’ll take it.

I just hope it’s quick enough.

~ ~ ~

“Here we go.” Sam pulls past the chain-link fence, past the
helicopter pad to our left, and towards a white hangar. My mouth drops open
when I read the large black lettering across it.

Wolf Private Airstrip.

“The family built this airport when Walter Wolf started his
hotel chain. He liked to come up to the cabin whenever he could get away. Would
fly his jet up. That’s why the long runway.” Sam’s hand waves toward the
stretch of pavement to our right, where a sleek-looking plane sits on the
tarmac, waiting. “It’s a good thing Mr. Wolf was in Homer, or you’d be taking
that helicopter to Anchorage and looking for a connection.”

It finally dawns on me. This wasn’t Belinda’s doing.

This is all Henry.

He must have heard. I guess this means he doesn’t hate me
for what I did, at least.

That prickly ball already sitting within my throat swells.

“You staff?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

He shakes his head, more to himself. “Then they must treat
their staff well, because I can’t imagine what this flight will run them.”

Neither can I.

He throws the sedan into park. I don’t bother waiting for
him to come around to open the door.

A man waits by the plane to collect my duffel bag and
quickly moves for the open cargo door, as if he knows we’re in a rush. Despite
the dire situation, I pause for a moment to take in this surreal scene.

Is this actually happening?

“Miss Mitchell. It was a pleasure meeting you. I wish you
all the best,” Sam offers.

With a nod of thanks, I make my way up the narrow set of
stairs that leads into the private jet.

A man in uniform waits at the top of the stairs. “Good
morning, Miss Mitchell. I’m co-captain Jack Rodan. We should be taking off
within fifteen minutes.” He gestures toward the back of the plane. “Any seat
you want.”

“Thank you.”

He leaves me to study the cream leather interior. There are
six seats to choose from, the two closest to me facing the back of the plane, and
four more facing this way, each one wide and comfortable-looking.

I move toward the back, to allow me some privacy as I find
Henry’s number on my phone. With only a moment’s hesitation, I hit dial.

Disappointment fills me when Henry’s recorded voice fills my
ear.

“Hi. I’m at your airstrip. I guess you heard about what
happened.” Did Belinda call him? Or did he see me on the ferry and ask? Not
that it really matters. “Thank you. I don’t know how bad it is but... this is a
lot, and I just wanted to say, thank you. You didn’t have to. But thank you.” I
hang up before I say too much, settling into chair to focus on the mountain
range in the distance.

This may be the last time I ever see it again.

Will I ever be back? Seeing as I don’t have to pay for a
flight home, I could probably afford it. If Dad was somehow miraculously okay,
which he very likely won’t be, seeing as a tractor rolled over on him.

Please God. Please let him survive this.

A loud roar fills my ear as the engines kick in, and a
flutter of nerves stirs me. This is only my second time in a plane, ever, and
this one is a lot smaller than the last. How safe are these private things,
anyway?

I sit patiently, because I can’t be anything but, while Jack
Rodan hits buttons near the stairway again. I guess on a small flight like
this, there’s no need for a flight attendant.

Five minutes pass.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Then twenty, and I begin to get antsy.

“Took you long enough!” Jack yells at someone. A moment
later he’s backing up.

And Henry steps on board.