For Better or Hearse

Chapter Ten

N athaniel follows several paces behind Ash as they file out to the van before dawn. At his grandfather’s insistence, they’re headed to watch the sun rise over Diamond Head.

“Shit,” Ash swears, as her pack tilts.

Nathaniel sticks a hand out, catching a bottle of sunscreen in midair. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and murmurs a soft word of thanks.

Leaning in, Nathaniel spies glucose gels, sunscreen, and bottled water. At least she came prepared. Except for her attire. This morning, she’s clad in an oversized hoodie and tight tan shorts. The laces of her boots are untied, click-clacking on the stairs as she boards the van.

Tater takes the long back seat, sprawling out to listen to his podcasts. His mother and father sit separately. Nathaniel and Ash are crammed into one bench while his grandfather sits in front of them.

Leading the pack as always.

“Here we are,” Augustus says, handing out pamphlets.

He’s bright-eyed this morning, while Nathaniel slept like shit. Apparently, Ash did too. Late last night, she was on the phone, then again early this morning. The walls are fucking paper-thin, and she’s as loud as a car engine. Their run-in on the balcony flashes across his mind like a subliminal message—part confusion, part annoyance. He hates that he’s intrigued by her. Hates that he wants to know more.

Eyes on the pamphlet, his mother says, “I hear the views of Waikiki and the ocean are beautiful during the sunrise. ”

Augustus chuckles fondly. “Up early to get the wiggles out. Remember we’d always say that, Claire?”

“Is this a good idea, Dad?” his mother asks, brow furrowed as she closes the brightly colored paper. “The hike sounds really taxing. Are you sure you can do it?”

“He can do it,” Ash adds, flipping through her own pamphlet. “Exercise is good for him.”

His father’s lip curls. “Are you a doctor, Ash?”

Ash shifts in her seat. Her pretty face tightens. “No, but I’ve been to several of Augustus’s appointments.”

“She’s right,” Nathaniel cuts in, giving his father a glare. Although he’s not sure why he’s playing defense. Not for this girl. Maybe because he’s seen the way his father treats the help, and the way the man pokes at Ash pisses him off.

Augustus squares his shoulders. “Until I start falling over, I’m on this earth to move around.”

With a noncommittal hum, his mother turns her face to the window, like she’s trying not to process the knowledge. If there’s one thing the Whitford family excels at, it’s denial. If they don’t acknowledge it, it never happened. After his failed wedding, it took his mother a year to ask about what really happened with Camellia.

“How long is this hike, Augustus?” Sighing, Don checks his Rolex. “I have a consult at one.”

Nathaniel rolls his eyes. “Dad. I think you can make time.”

“You’re bringing down the vibe, Don,” Ash adds, her face full of mischief. “If you took the time to read the pamphlet, you’d know the hike lasts between thirty minutes and an hour.”

Nathaniel bites back a laugh.

That rebellious say-anything streak of Ash’s sends a pulse traveling through his dick.

Fuck. What the hell’s wrong with him?

Don appraises him, his derisive gaze on his face, before moving to Ash and then back to his phone .

Ash leans in. “Is he silently carving up my face in his head?”

Nathaniel nods. “Without a doubt.”

“How big do you think he’d make my breasts?”

He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “I’d prefer to leave your breasts out of this.”

She smirks.

Head lowered, he can’t help but take in the hem of Ash’s short shorts. Her pale thigh covered with bright, blooming tattoos. What would it feel like to trace the petals of a rose up her thigh to her—

Fuck.

Self-loathing fills him.

Her pretty face. Her high cheekbones, the slash of red lipstick, her wild mane of hair, those sharp nails. Every little thing about her screams untouchable. Mean. Feral.

He’s too close to her. She smells like grapefruit and spice. Nutmeg. He should stop huffing her scent, but he can’t. It’s all so strange. She’s not even his type.

The van ride goes on. Tirelessly. Uncomfortably.

“So, Ash…”

His mother picks at her nail. Searching for a topic to break the silence. Nathaniel knows the feeling. It’s been so long since he’s been with his family, he doesn’t know how to act. Maybe he is a robot. The thought of Ash being right irritates him even more.

“How long have you been doing”—his mother waves a hand helplessly—“this?”

“I got my certification two years ago at the Sacred Crossings Institute in Los Angeles.” Her words are bright, proud.

His father examines Ash over his phone. “Isn’t that like some touchy-feely school?” The look of disdain he gives her is one normally reserved for his own family.

Her smile slips. She looks to the ground, her eyes suddenly glassy. “Something like that.”

Her feelings are hurt.

Fuck his father .

A swell of protectiveness rises up in him. The urge to defend her takes over before he can stop it. “It’s a good school,” he says. “I’ve read about it in the journal.”

He didn’t. He knows nothing about the school. What he does know is that he’d do anything to get rid of that sad look in her eyes.

Don grunts.

Ash remains silent, shoulders tense, her face now turned to the window.

Her defeat bothers him. More than he’d like to admit.

Beside him, Ash, voice low and husky, says, “I appreciate the lie.” Her eyes are still on the passing scenery.

Nathaniel swallows hard. He wants to tell her he’s sorry. Sorry that his father’s an asshole and that being combative, competitive, is the fucked-up way his family bonds. But he keeps his mouth shut.

As the drive continues, Tate bitches and moans. If Delaney doesn’t have to be here, then why does he? Like he’s a five-year-old all over again instead of a twenty-six-year-old with a pornstache.

His mother sits, unmoving, with those same glassy, bored eyes from his childhood.

Christ. His family is so fucked up.

They just can’t pull it all the fuck together for his grandfather, can they?

Finally, thankfully, the van pulls into the parking lot.

Without missing a beat, Ash whistles, long, loud and sharp.

The van goes silent.

She pops out of her seat. Surveys the group with a feline-like smile. “You all ready to fucking roll?”

At the word fuck , his mother makes a tiny squeak of protest in the back of her throat.

Nathaniel laughs, his earlier annoyance at the ridiculousness of his family chased away.

Ash’s gray-green eyes meet his.

His chest tightens. All because of her.

After disembarking the van at Diamond Head, Nathaniel zips his pack. Ready to go, he scans the parking lot. Early morning, the lot’s crowded with tourists and guides. The breeze is warm, and birds chatter overhead.

Ash fumbles with her own pack. The wind whips her dark hair, like a feral mane swirling around the crown of her head. With a growl, she settles her backpack on her feet like she’s a penguin ready to nest and arranges her things.

“Hey,” Tate says to Ash, holding out his black North Face pack. “Same pack.” He holds out a fist to bump.

She obliges. “Twinsies,” she says with a grin.

Nathaniel rolls his eyes.

And then she slips her hoodie off.

Instantly, his brain scrambles.

She’s in a tiny crop top. That combined with the Lara Croft–type shorts and the colorful tattoos snaking her thighs, does something warm and unwelcome to his stomach.

After cramming her hoodie into her pack, she stands tall, dips her head back, and stares up into the sun. “Great,” she mutters, shielding her eyes. “No shade.”

Nathaniel smirks. “Good thing you brought your big, dumb floppy hat.”

She scowls. “Good thing I did.” With exaggeration and gusto, she plops the straw hat on her head.

Frowning, Nathaniel assesses her attire. The shoes are a complete walking hazard, her hair defies the laws of physics, and the floppy hat obscures her vision. Great. It makes him itch. Makes him want to get down on his knees and tie those fucking laces. And maybe get a closer look at those tattoos.

“Watch your boots,” he growls. “I have enough to worry about with my grandfather.”

Ash plucks her pack from the ground and shrugs into the straps. The look she gives him is pure venom—eyes narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring. She checks her blood sugar, swiping her phone against her sensor. It makes a ping, and she takes in the reading.

“You have sugar?” Christ. Why is his tone suddenly soft? Why does he feel the need to check on her? “I don’t want to get to the top and have to carry you down.”

After what he swears is a low growl, she pulls herself up straighter. “I am perfectly capable of surviving on my own, fuck you very much.”

With that, the hike begins. It’s an out and back trail, so they keep to the right of the crater as they ascend up the winding paved road.

Don looks at Tate, his expression full of challenge. “Bet you I beat your best time up there.”

Tate hoots and mimes the Running Man. “You’re on.”

Nathaniel holds back an eye roll as his brother and father peel away from the group.

“So much for family togetherness,” Ash mutters beside him.

“Tell me if you get tired, Dad,” Claire says.

“Should we tell a story?” Augustus suggests. “While we hike?”

Ash bobs her chin. “If you have the lung capacity for it, absolutely.”

“Why Hawaii for your hotels, Grandpops?” Nathaniel asks. He’s heard bits and pieces, but never the entire story.

Augustus’s eyes twinkle. “You, Nathaniel, ask the good questions.”

“It’s because of Mom.”

Nathaniel’s eyes slide to his mother.

“That’s right, Claire. Your mother and I spent our honeymoon here.”

At Ash’s sharp intake of breath, Nathaniel glances over. She dips her chin, then turns away, her focus suddenly fixed on the far side of the crater.

Augustus continues, nostalgia staining his voice. “We loved it here, so when we saw a listing in the local paper, we decided to check it out on a whim. When I saw the land, I knew I wanted it to be home base for my hotels. To bring out that sense of peace, of paradise for our guests. But…after Rosalea died, I moved the company to LA. I couldn’t bear to come back.” He inhales a hard breath. “But now…it’s time. Some of the happiest moments of my life took place here, and I’d like to share them with you.”

Despite her smile, his mother’s hesitation is palpable. She’d never admit it, but Augustus has never been the father she needed. He missed birthdays and he hired nannies to cart her around. Nathaniel’s own father missed more birthdays than he can count. He’s experienced that stinging, lonely feeling that settles in a person’s gut and refuses to leave.

Maybe she should open up to Augustus. Maybe that’s what his grandfather wants, what this trip is for.

“Is it true Carlo Giacomo was an investor on the down-low?” Ash asks. She’s once again affected her go-to expression, a look of fearless cool. “That he had a key that opened any suite when he needed it?”

Augustus’s sharp laugh echoes around them. “That, my dear, is a story for another day.”

“I don’t know why you keep humoring them,” Claire says with a smile.

The group stops at the base of a set of stairs.

“Oh god.” Ash stares at the steps, her shoulders slumped.

According to his pamphlet, there are seventy-five.

He peers at her. “What’s wrong, Bigfoot? You look scared.”

She turns in his direction. Arches a brow. “Scared of a mountain? Please. I used to practice math with my dad.”

“You two go on,” Augustus orders. He looks from Ash to Nathaniel and back, like they’re in cahoots. “Claire and I will meet you at the top.”

“Are you sure?” Ash says as they’re hit with a gust of wind. She frantically grabs the brim of her hat to keep it from being sacrificed to the volcano. “I can stay.”

“No. You two have fun. ”

Ash frowns, probably doubtful of the promise of fun, but they continue on.

Another brisk breeze flows past, bringing with it scents of plumeria and salty sea air. Nathaniel inhales, his muscles burning, relishing the exercise.

Beside him, Ash huffs. “Why do people over six feet always walk so fucking fast? Do you have something to prove?”

“Only that I’m the master of the universe.”

She snorts.

His lips twitch at the extra-long strides she takes to keep up with him.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you hike like an injured animal?” Nathaniel asks, nodding at her unlaced boots.

“Oh fuck off,” Ash says, but her laugh is husky. “I didn’t realize everything would be a contest. Well, I have news for you. I’m the least competitive person you’ll ever meet. Especially when it comes to a hike.”

He arches a brow, deciding to stop battling his curiosity. “How so?”

“If I don’t care about it, I don’t care. If there’s nothing in it for me, forget it. Now a hike with a bar at the end of it? Sign me the hell up. A beautiful waterfall that may or may not be haunted by the spirits of vengeful lovers? Sure.” She breathes a laugh. “A hike where you find a dead body at the end of it…mwah.” She kisses the tips of her fingers. “It’s like spaghetti in Italy.”

“Nature,” he grunts, “is what gets me moving.”

“Great. You love nature. Congrats.” Ash puffs a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I swear to god,” she grumbles, “of all the lies Augustus has ever told, this hike is easy is the boldest.”

Nathaniel hides a smirk. She’s breathing so hard she can barely get the words out.

At a pit stop, Ash bends at the waist, palms on her bare thighs. Her hat falls into the dust. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” With a growl, she snags it from the ground and smashes it into her pack. “I thought I was entering my big hat era, but I was wrong.”

Nathaniel waits for her to catch her breath before proceeding. Even he can admit, the climb is not for the faint of heart. The terrain is made even more treacherous by the two-way traffic. Selfie sticks, joggers and slow walkers clog the narrow path.

Ash straightens up, only to be knocked off the pathway by an errant jogger. Over the top of her head, Nathaniel shoots daggers at him with his eyes. Fucking asshole. Thinks he owns the goddamn road.

Without thinking, he puts a hand on her hip, moving her out of the way of traffic.

“You ready?” he asks, watching her with a careful eye. “Or do you need an escort to the bottom?” The last thing he needs is for her to keel over.

“Ready.”

They begin again, side by side once more.

“Okay,” Ash says when they’re halfway up the summit. “Since Augustus isn’t here, you have to entertain me.”

Entertain her? Sure, he’ll bite. “What’d you have in mind?”

“ Truth/lie . Augustus and I play it all the time.”

He blinks. “You do?”

“We do.”

“Fine.”

Her face brightens. “Okay. Truth or lie. Would you rather fight one hundred chickens or a bear?”

The question’s so out of left field that he bursts out laughing.

Ash blinks at the sound, seemingly stunned for a moment, and then smiles. Her red lips curl, catlike, at the corners.

“Isn’t this really Would You Rather?” he asks.

“Listen. It’s whatever I want it to be. It was invented in a closet on a very drunk Friday night. The rules are lawless. Can turn on a dime.” She throws him a half smile that makes his throat tighten. “Well? ”

“A bear.” Nathaniel trades places, moving Ash onto the inside of the path. If one more person knocks into her, he’s going to lose it. “It’s one target.”

“What ambition.” She struts forward, keeping pace with him. “Your turn.”

He stares at her for a long minute. The bright sunlight brings out the shimmery blue undertones of her black hair. “Your real name.”

He swears at himself the second the question’s out of his mouth. Why does he even care? Why is he so curious about this girl? And why does he keep clocking her bare shoulders and the sunburn that’s barely begun?

The glare she gives him could scorch the sun.

“You don’t expect me to believe it’s just Ash. Plain old Ash.”

The tips of her ears turn pink.

Nathaniel grins at her uncomfortable expression. So, he is right.

That plump, lower lip juts out. Defiant. Stubborn. “What’s wrong with plain old Ash?”

“There’s nothing plain about you.”

“Careful.” The sly arch of her eyebrow. Her curious attention sweeps over him, her green-gray gaze glittering in the sun. Like fog after a summer rain. “It almost sounds like you’re admitting I’m interesting .”

A shrug, even as he internally berates himself for his comment. “You call it interesting. I call it predictable.”

She swirls a finger. “How so?” The smoky purr of her voice has his cock flexing.

“If I had to guess, I’d say your favorite color is black and your favorite holiday is Halloween.”

“You forgot something.”

“What’s that?”

“I drink the blood of little children by candlelight.”

He chuckles, enjoying himself. And that’s when he remembers he’s fraternizing with the enemy. The woman who destroyed his life. The thought shoves his mind, his emotions, back three years .

“Another question then.” He grinds his teeth, soaking in the echo of that pain. “Who paid you? To interrupt my wedding.”

Her body locks up. She stops, and the humor in her expression vanishes. “We’re still on that?”

The way her eyes shutter has anger simmering in him. She’s already remembering what she thinks she knows about him.

Ash studies him intently. “You have psychopath eyes, you know.”

He lets out a sound of frustration. “Probably because I want to murder you.”

She watches him, lip caught between her teeth. The strap of her tank top has slipped down. Instead of making her look reckless or messy, she looks vulnerable and soft. It pisses him off.

“C’mon, let’s go,” he barks. He’s done with this game.

Another fifty-four steps, silence, and two tunnels later, they make it to the top of the Diamond Head Observation Station. A clear day, the view stretches on forever. Beneath them, the Honolulu sea front. Navy-blue waves lap at the shore. Nothing but sun, sky and surf.

“The lighthouse,” Ash breathes, sounding awed, as she draws up beside him. She points at the base of Diamond Head, where a white lighthouse stands. “There it is.”

“What do you like about lighthouses?”

Fuck his life. The questions keep coming.

“They’re mysterious.” Her cheeks are red. The wind whips her hair, and she fights to control it. “Imagine saying you live in a lighthouse. Life goals unlocked.”

Nathaniel angles his head. Says nothing.

Ash lifts her phone, side-eyes him. “No pictures?”

He crosses his arms. “No.”

“Wow.” She purses her lips. “You can even suck the joy out of a photo. Fascinating.”

With that, she snaps her photo and walks off .

Rolling out his shoulders to release the Ash-induced irritation built up there, Nathaniel shucks his pack. He stretches and drinks from a bottle of water. Checks his phone. There’s a text from his mother that says she and his grandfather called it quits at the second set of stairs.

Pack secured once more, Nathaniel studies the map as he elbows his way through the photo-snapping crowd. In his periphery, Ash is holding her phone up to the sky like she’s trying to signal the aliens to take her back to her home planet.

The game was clever and chaotic; he’ll give her that. But it unraveled before it even got started. His fault. He brought up the wedding, instantly fueling the animosity between them. Maybe it’s not Ash he’s pissed at. Maybe it’s himself. Because it still bothers him. Not because he still loves Camellia, but because he has an innate need for closure.

And he refuses to let his grandfather’s pain-in-the-ass death doula get under his skin. Thirteen more days, and he’s free of her.

Ash paces the chaotic space, phone to her ear. When someone knocks into her a second time, spinning her around like a top, Nathaniel stifles a growl and trudges her way.

Unbelievable. Can she be any more oblivious?

“What are you doing?” he asks tightly.

“Trying to get service.” She props one of her boots on the edge of a rock. “I have a standing appointment. If we’re late, we text.”

He bristles. Heat floods him. Excellent. She has a boyfriend.

Not like it matters. The guy, whoever it is, has his hands full.

Still, his idiot mouth opens, and he asks, “With who?”

An honest kind of happy crosses her face. Her smile wide and full.

Startled, Nathaniel falls silent, and the burn in his throat intensifies. It’s like the parting of a curtain. A special glimpse into Ash Keller.

“The one,” she says.

His gaze jerks to her. “The one? ”

“The one .” Her face brightens, and she holds a hand up, palm out, to the sky. “It’s like your soul sister. The crème to your coffee. The Nancy to your Sid. That one person who’d bury a body for you or take a bullet.” Her voice is earnest as she asks, “Don’t you have that person?”

Nathaniel has never known a person like that, let alone had one. Not his brother, sure as hell not his father. Even his so-called best friends from college were little more than acquaintances. Even his relationship with Camellia was mechanical. Nothing says our love is for show better than a paid article bragging about their engagement in the LA Times .

Ash’s husky voice breaks through his thoughts. “Sometimes I think it’s all you need in the world. If you have that one right person in your life, you can survive anything.”

Curious now, Nathaniel keeps at it. “What have you survived?”

She looks at him, sharp. “What makes you think I have?”

Then she’s turning. Pulling herself up on a rock, using a tree branch as both leverage and balance.

“Anyway, Tessie is my cousin. Love of my life. Apple of my eye. Currently pregnant and incubating an absolutely feral fetus. And if I do not reply ASAP to this name suggestion, her baby will be called Leviathan and I will forever have this on my conscience.”

“Is that who you were talking to last night?”

She freezes. “You heard me?”

Of course he heard her. She’s the loudest living thing on the entire planet. Her jovial and smoky laughter. Soft muttered swears. Whispers with his grandfather. Every word from her mouth, regardless of its volume, annoys him.

“Walls are thin.” He presses on. “And you’re extremely loud.”

A smile blooms across her red mouth. She laughs, the boisterous sound filling the air like fireworks. “I am truly an elephant at heart.”

It totally fucking works.

He smiles .

He can’t fucking believe it. Christ. What is it about her? Her weird. Her quirk. Her brazenness to just be . Her IDGAF attitude and ballsy demeanor antagonize and intrigue him all at the same time.

She’s a fucking Rubik’s Cube. No, strike that. She’s more of the puzzle box from Hellraiser .

He spears a hand through his hair, watching as her laces tangle. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what? Harness the power of the satellites for service?” She stretches higher. Scoots farther back on the rock.

In a flash of foresight, Nathaniel sees it coming. Too close to the edge. Her boots have no traction. The rock’s slick as hell with morning dew.

Crossing his arms, Nathaniel inhales sharply to push the emotion, the worry, aside. And yet he drifts closer to her. A strange tug in his stomach. Ridiculous. She’s ridiculous and reckless, and how his grandfather puts up with her is beyond him.

“Ash. Get the fuck down.” His tone is sharp, efficient. The kind he once used on the battlefield of his emergency department.

The bite in his voice has her eyes widening.

Then she sticks her tongue out at him and hops off the rock. “Killjoy.” She’s still too close to the edge, but she’s on the ground again, at least.

Thank fuck.

She takes a step toward him, but as she does, a tourist wielding a rogue selfie stick knocks into her. Knocks her off balance.

Knocks her to the edge of the cliff.

The heel of her boot slips on loose gravel. She gasps and grabs at the air.

And then she screams.