For Better or Hearse

Chapter Twelve

“Y ou’re here,” Nathaniel says, meeting Delaney in the middle of the sun deck.

“Oh my God, it’s so freaking good to see you,” Delaney squeals, throwing herself into his arms to squeeze the life out of him.

He holds her at arm’s length to evaluate her better. “I thought you couldn’t get away until Tuesday.”

“Don’t tell Mom, but…” Delaney’s lips split into a grin. “I stole half the props on set and got fired.”

He massages his brow. “Christ, DeeDee.”

“Don’t worry. My publicist is on it,” she says. “They have to bring me back. I get shanked in prison in episode seven.” She wiggles her brows. “And then disemboweled.”

Nathaniel shakes his head. His little sister—younger by ten years—snagged a role as an inmate in a limited run series on HBO. While working as an intern on a set, she happily sat through a production of the producer’s daughter’s kindergarten play, and in the end, she got the part.

She’s truly the personality hire of the office and the Whitford family.

Aside from his grandfather, DeeDee’s the one family member he can tolerate. Even if she does arrive half-naked to every family event and can’t keep her hands off the valets.

Delaney scans the pool. Puffs out her chest. “Do you think people recognize me?”

“If you wanted to be undercover, I’d rethink the hair,” Nathaniel replies drolly. With her short pink guillotine haircut and sparkly rainbow cover-up, astronauts in space couldn’t miss her .

“Never. The hair is my calling card.” She regards him, curious. “So, how’s it going, big brother?”

“It’s…going,” Nathaniel replies.

Her gaze drops to his sunscreen-covered hands. “Looks messy.”

His mind spins with thoughts of Ash and what he was in the middle of. Rubbing in that goddamn sunscreen to the point of distraction.

Using the towel Delaney has slung over her shoulder, he wipes off the remaining sunscreen. Guilt twists in his gut. As if he’s been caught in the act. But the act of what? Helping a woman who’s so clueless she can’t even take care of herself? Never mind how fucking good she felt beneath his hands. Smooth and warm and soft.

“Ooh, is that her?”

Nathaniel snaps out of his reverie.

In his periphery, across the pool deck, there’s a flash of yellow. Ash. She’s gathering her things, smashing the magazine and towel into the beach bag like she’s planning to melt into the shadows before anyone can see.

“That’s her,” he says dryly.

It’s a given that Delaney got the scoop about Ash from his mother or Tate. News in their family travels fast and usually incorrectly.

Delaney, hand shielding her eyes, surveys her. “She looks like she could cut you.”

“She would cut me.”

“Hey!” Delaney waves that same hand. “Over here.”

Fuck.

Nathaniel freezes.

Ash freezes.

She turns in slow-motion, her posture rigid. Then, with narrowed eyes, she heads toward them.

The world goes quiet for half a second.

Staring is wrong, but it’s all Nathaniel can do. Those high cheekbones, that sun-yellow bikini, her long bare legs covered in tattoos. The bounce of her creamy white breasts as she sashays his way. She’s like an eclipse. Dark and light. Terrifying and fascinating. A once-in-a-lifetime event to remember before it’s gone.

And suddenly he’s surprised to find that yellow is his favorite fucking color.

“Slinking away?” he asks.

She settles beside him, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Slithering.”

Nathaniel frowns. Her voice is tight, her lips pressed in a flat line, eyes straight ahead. He can’t deny that it bothers him. The sudden cold shoulder. The refusal to meet his gaze.

He nods. “This is my sister, Delaney. Delaney, this is Ash.”

“Hi,” Delaney chirps, stretching out her hand. “Call me DeeDee if you’re nasty.”

“This is your sister ?” Ash takes a wobbly step back, pushing her sunglasses on top of her head. She sounds horrified and uncertain, as if the words don’t compute.

Nathaniel clears his throat lightly. “One and only.”

Wide-eyed and suddenly paler, Ash finally takes Delaney’s hand and shakes it. “Hi,” she says in that low, smoky voice of hers. “Nice to meet you.”

Delaney stares at Ash. She’s practically bouncing on her toes, like she’s ready to erupt. “I swore I wouldn’t. But I am.”

“Am what?” Nathaniel asks.

Delaney traces Ash’s form. “Vibing with her.”

Nathaniel groans. The last thing he needs is for the two of them to bond. Between Ash and his sister, he has enough problems.

Delaney tilts her head. “You’re a Scorpio, right?”

Wordlessly, Ash nods.

“You like tarot?”

Ash opens her mouth. Before she can answer, Nathaniel snaps the air, intercepting his sister before she can start.

“Let’s. Not. ”

With an elbow to his ribs, Delaney pouts. “You suck the fun out of everything. You’re boring.”

“That’s what I told him.” Ash smiles, but it’s wan, tired.

Delaney giggles, pleased to have someone on her side. “I know, right? One time in Chile, all I wanted to do was…”

As Delaney prattles on about all the ways Nathaniel has been the most boring brother in the history of the world, he catches a glimpse of a streak of sunscreen on Ash’s shoulder. He reaches out to rub it in, but catches himself at the last minute.

Ash half turns toward him. Her smile is brittle, panicked. “I—I have to go.”

Nathaniel scrutinizes her. “Is everything okay?”

Her pale cheeks burn red, and for once, she doesn’t have a cryptic comeback. Towel clutched to her chest, she takes a step backward. “I—I should check on Augustus.”

His stomach tightens in a knot. Concerned, Nathaniel moves to follow. “Ash—”

She turns away from him, and then she’s racing toward the door that leads into the hotel and away from whatever spooked her.

After a shower, Nathaniel meets his family for dinner in the lobby. His father’s hired a driver to take them to a Michelin-star restaurant on an adjoining beach.

Hands in his pockets, Nathaniel paces the marble floor while his father describes in detail the call he took today. He does his best to look bored, but he can’t help looking up and over every time the elevator chimes.

He’s waiting for it. The sight of the stomping black cloud of Ash on the arm of his grandfather.

When the elevator doors open for the fifth time, there’s only Augustus .

“Where’s Ash?” he barks, unable to help himself. Unable to shake that prickle of annoyance. Of want.

“Too much sun,” Augustus says with a cheery grin. “She’s taking it easy in the room.” Eyes twinkling, he turns to Delaney. “Hi there, sweetheart.”

“Grandpops,” Delaney squeals, throwing herself into Augustus’s arms.

Dinner’s unbearable. His father picks apart the last few episodes of Delaney’s show while Delaney agrees with every single fucking offensive word. Why wouldn’t she? For the first time in God knows how long, she actually has thirteen minutes of her father’s attention. Nathaniel carries the conversation, volleys the dialogue between his mother and grandfather, as futile as it is.

Augustus keeps trying to mend fences. No one seems to want to reciprocate. Nathaniel’s not sure what to do. Except wish Ash were here. She’d have a solution. Make jokes, lighten the mood, at least piss off his father.

It’s only been two days, and already, she’s the sole person ensuring no one bolts for saner pastures.

He’s certainly not leaving, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t counting down the days until the vacation is over and he can get away from his family. This isn’t a feasible or workable emotion. This is about survival. Even med school wasn’t this hard.

An email pops onto the upper left corner of his phone screen. He checks it with bated breath. But it’s not the email he’s been waiting for.

It’s why he’s applying to the North Sea, right? To get away?

Halfway through coffee and dessert, his mind has strayed to Ash again. To their conversation at the pool. To the people who made her feel like an outcast. What he’d give to throttle them. Fuck those people. Anyone who can use someone’s health condition as a reason to exclude them. It’s fucking cruel.

He admires her for going through all that so young. Despite the slight cynical edge to her voice, so much of her holds resilience. Bravery.

The image of her wary—and then stunned—expression at the pool keeps playing across his mind like a GIF.

His stomach fills with annoyance. Worry. Did she at least get dinner? Christ. He doesn’t like anything about this. His Ash-centric brain doesn’t like the thought of her not eating. Doesn’t like the way she all but ran away from him today. It doesn’t sit right.

As soon as they finish dinner and get back to the resort, Nathaniel heads to his room. His first stop is the balcony, where he hopes to find Ash. And do what? Talk? Trade banter that stings and then some? It’s either talk to her or give in to Tate and listen to his podcast.

But the balcony is dark and empty. The curtains to her room are drawn. He lifts a hand, hovering, wanting to knock, but thinks better of it.

So he sits. Thumbs through his phone to check his email for word about his job application. But he finds he couldn’t care less.

For once, the North Sea isn’t on is mind. Neither is figuring out an early exit from this trip. Instead, he’s consumed with thoughts revolving around a different subject entirely. One that doesn’t make him want to run away.

It’s Ash. The macabre girl with the blood-red smirk.

After an hour on the balcony, he stands to go. The moment he’s on his feet, the light in her room turns on. He waits, heart pounding, listening to the crash of waves, hoping for a glimpse of her scowling face, and then the light flicks off.