Page 6 of Irrevocably

She’s a delicate little thing, and the problem with delicate little things is that they get broken very easily. I’m a careful man, though, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t break.

Not until I want her to.

Chapter Three

ASTRID

The party is on Blackwater Beach, at the north end of town, where the lights of the port shine, and by the time we get there, I can hear the thump of the bass blaring from someone’s speakers. It settles in my chest like a heartbeat.

It’s cold as we get out of the car, a wind whipping in from the sea, smelling of salt and wet sand, and rain. It makes me shiver. It’s not actually raining for a change, but it’s not party weather, either, and most especially not when that party is on a beach.

Still, when I see a few Harleys lined up in the parking lot, my heart lifts. Not the usual response to seeing bikers, I know, but one of those bikes is Wolf’s, my best friend since kindergarten, so at least there’ll be one person I know already there. He’s a member of Hellhounds MC, which is problematic since the chief of police here in Blackwater is my dad. I don’t much like the club, but Wolf is important to me, so we kind of have a “don’t ask, don’t tell” agreement.

As Rowan and I make our way down to the beach, I see flames dancing on the sand. Someone has built a bonfire and dragged logs of driftwood around it, and there’s quite a crowd gathered already. They’re sitting on logs or standing around talking and laughing. No one seems to mind the cold wind, even the girls in strappy dresses and micro minis.

Rowan has brought beer and hands me a can as we get closer to the fire, then points silently to Mike, who is sitting with his friends on one of the logs.

I jam my hands in the pockets of my hoodie and follow Rowan over to the bonfire. She’s somehow managed to find some space on the end of the log next to Mike, and now she’s talking to him as if they’re old friends. I stand awkwardly beside the log, since there’s no room on it for me, sipping at my beer. I don’t like it, but I need something to do with my hands, so I clutch the can in a death grip, scanning the people around the bonfire, looking for Wolf.

I spot him eventually, standing with some other club members, a bit away from the flames. The firelight plays over his tall figure, making the gold strands in his short dark brown hair gleam, and highlighting his strong jaw and straight nose. He’s smiling down at a girl who’s batting her eyelashes at him, and of course she is. Wolf’s hot, especially in jeans, a black Henley and his leather vest – a cut they call it – which has an image of a snarling dog and the words “Hellhounds MC” on the back.

Since Rowan is busy chatting, I walk across the sand toward Wolf. He sees me coming and instantly his handsome face lights up. The woman he’s been talking to gives me an annoyed look, but I’m no threat to her. Wolf is a friend, my best friend, nothing more.

“Hey,” I say, grinning.

“Addie,” he says back, also grinning. “Since when you do come to beach parties?”

“Since Rowan begged me.” I wave my beer can in Rowan’s direction. “A guy was involved.”

“A guy is always involved.” Wolf envelops me in one of his bear hugs. He’s built like a tank, and smells of leather and engine oil, and his familiarity makes me instantly feel a thousand times better. I haven’t seen him for ages, because what with study and work, I haven’t had the time, but being with him now makes me realise that I’ve missed him.

“Good to see you.” He releases me and stands back, his dark eyes assessing. “It’s been a bit.”

“I know,” I say, feeling guilty. “I’m sorry. Midterms are killing me.”

“Yeah, and stop it with the guilt already,” Wolf says, reading me like a book. “I know you’re busy.”

One of the things I love about Wolf, is that I don’t ever have to explain myself to him. He knows me. He knows that I feel guilty when I don’t see him, and I know that when he tells me to stop feeling that way, he means it.

“You also know that I’m going to feel guilty about it whether you tell me to or not,” I say.

“True.” He grins. “So, how’s the study going? You a doctor yet?”

I roll my eyes. He always asks me if I’m a doctor yet. I want to tell him about the B plus and how I’m worried about my grade average, and how I feel like I’m failing, but I can’t. Wolf’s confidence in me and my academic ability is helping me keep going at the moment, and I don’t want to undermine that by telling him all about my stupid anxieties. So, I tell him how much I hate chemistry instead.

Wolf’s always been a good listener. We used to tell each other everything, at least until that last year of middle school, when his mother finally left his abusive father. She went without taking Wolf, though, leaving him to deal with his father on his own, and he changed after that. He stopped telling me his secrets and started ditching school, fell in with a bad crowd. It wasn’t until high school, when we were in biology together, that we got back to being friends. He was failing the class, so I helped him, and we just went on from there.

When I told him I wanted to go to the same med school as my mom, he was nothing but supportive and encouraging. Unlike my dad, who frowned and warned me that it was a lot of work, and did I really want to pursue that?

I think I’m doing a good job of pretending I’m okay, and that the balloon against my ribs isn’t inflating with every minute I stand here talking to him instead of in my bedroom studying. But when he frowns and asks, “Are you really okay?” I know that my good job is actually pretty shit.

I’m about to tell him that I’m fine, when mercifully one of Wolf’s club friends ambles over and says something in his ear. He mutters a curse and turns back to me. “Sorry, Addie, but I’ve gotta go. Club business.”

I keep my long-suffering sigh inside – there always “club business” at some point with Wolf – and wave as he and his friends leave. Then I wander away from the crowds and the bonfire, going toward the sea, the dark waves rolling and crashing onto the sand.

The flames of the bonfire cast long, leaping shadows and the air is full of salt and the crisp bite of the oncoming winter.

I stare out over the water, realising it’s not only Wolf I miss, but being on the beach, too. When I was a kid and Dad was more of a dad to me than he is now, he used to bring me here a lot, and we’d search for shells and sea glass, and driftwood polished by the ocean. He stopped taking me when I got older and used the TV to babysit me instead.