For Better or Hearse

Chapter Twenty-Five

A s Nathaniel expected, Ash is fifteen minutes late. His heartbeat becomes irregular when she appears, slicing through the restaurant. She sits beside him at the round table, amid the clatter of the brunch buffet and his siblings’ chatter.

“You look more pale and tired than usual,” he remarks, lifting his coffee cup to his lips. She must have snuck out of his room at an ungodly hour. When he woke around three a.m., she was gone.

It’s like a vise around his heart. It pisses him off.

She gives him a dirty look while reaching for a croissant. “At least I’m not dressed like a leprechaun.”

The sharp tone in her voice makes him want to take her back to his room and bury his cock between her soft, wet thighs. Christ, he craves her banter. Can’t get enough of those under-the-breath asides that carve him up.

Can’t get enough of her .

There’s nothing about her that’s a passing interest anymore. Or a fling. The awareness is undeniable every time he sees Ash. This is about feelings.

Fucking feelings. He promised he’d steer clear, and look where he is. So obsessed he can’t even see straight.

He wishes he could say the same for Ash. Her walls are up. Every time he gets close, she pulls back.

It’s Maui. It’s obvious. She’s been agitated since they got here. The defeated look on her face when he saw her on the balcony yesterday. Unspoken pain in her eyes.

What has this girl survived? That’s what he wants to know. Why does Hawaii make her flinch? And goddamn does that lipstick ever come off?

Whatever the problem, he wants to fix it. But she won’t let him.

His father drops his cloth napkin, checks his watch. “Let’s wrap this up soon. The boys have things to do.”

“The boys,” Ash murmurs, popping a piece of croissant into her mouth. “Is that a secret syndicate that fights billionaire crime?”

Delaney, three mimosas deep, looks up from her plate. “That should be a TV show.”

Nathaniel’s silent as he leans back in his chair. The idea of splitting up from Ash makes his skin itch. They have such little time left together. At that, he frowns. How many days is it again? Four?

At the thought, it’s hard to get air.

Needing to touch her, a reassurance he still has time, he slides his hand along her thigh beneath the table. Squeezes.

Ash keeps a straight face. Only the curled edge of her blood-red lips gives anything away.

He slides his hand higher. Over the blooming iris tattoo she got after crowd surfing at Bonnaroo. The tattoo he traced with his lips, his tongue last night, before reaching the apex of her thighs and going in for a taste of her.

Touching her is a necessity. Another way—a better way—to live.

Fantastically beautiful. Like the dangerous allure of the sea. Only it’s everywhere he wants to be. Riding those waves, dipping into every deep, dark, secret part of her.

She spreads her thighs, the subtle invite making his pulse quicken.

Jesus.

His cock could punch through drywall.

He’s pressing a finger against the wet seam of her panties when his father says, “Our tee time’s at noon. You think you can swing it, Augustus?” Don smirks. “It’s right around your mid-day nap. ”

Augustus sips his coffee easily. Smiles. “Never too tired to kick your ass in a round of golf, Don.”

His grandfather’s a good liar. Nathaniel will give him that. The dark circles under his eyes give away the truth. He’s fading. Slow, but soon. Although the man could probably muster the strength to take a swing at his father with a golf club. Nathaniel wouldn’t blame him. His father is acting like an ass.

“You take breaks if you need to, Dad,” Claire says, squeezing Augustus’s arm.

In his periphery, Ash’s lashes flutter. He sweeps a thumb over the bud of her clit. Her thighs tremble. Through the thin silk of her tank top, her nipples are pinched. He rotates his rhythm.

Ash gasps. Her dark head falls forward. She grips her silverware with white knuckles.

“Enjoying that croissant?” he asks, voice devoid of emotion.

She whips her head in his direction, gives him a deadly glare.

“Ash?” his mother asks, concerned. “Are you okay?” To his surprise, his mother’s been cordial to Ash since they got to Maui.

“I’m fine.” She huffs out a breath. “All good.”

Nathaniel bites back a smile. Withdraws his hand.

Ash flounces back against her seat, breathing heavily. Her eyes are a swirl of green and gray, glassy and glazed. “I hate you,” she whispers.

Don shakes out his paper. “Claire, you have my card. Try not to spend it all in one place.”

For a brief second, his mother looks irritated. Then she folds up her napkin without another word.

“Designated gender roles.” Ash’s lips curl. “We love to see it, don’t we, Don?”

Nathaniel fights a smile.

His father makes a sound of dismissal and goes back to his paper.

At that, Ash sighs and taps at the screen of her phone.

“What’re you doing?” Nathaniel asks, tilting a fraction closer .

“Marking down how often he speaks to me,” Ash replies, eyes on the device. “So far, I have been acknowledged once, grunted at four times, and addressed by name negative three.”

Nathaniel frowns. She says it lightly, but inside, he’s seething.

Delaney drums the table in excitement. “And for the ladiesss , spa and shopping day in town!” She lifts her mimosa glass high.

“Wait. What?” Ash’s voice is flat. Her panicked eyes rush to his.

This time he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk.

“Shopping. Sounds right up your alley, Bigfoot.”

“Oh, you fucking Tall Asshole,” she growls.

Fuck. It’s all he can do not to kiss that sharp mouth in front of everyone.

“Lobby.” Don’s sharp bark calls the group to order. “Five minutes, Nate.”

Ash glowers. “Nathaniel,” she says under her breath.

In the lobby, he and Ash hover close, but not too close, to one another. His father calls their separate drivers. Heat rises in the space between them. He’s tempted to touch her, but he can’t do that right now. Not with his family around. And why does it feel like his heart’s getting yanked out by a scythe?

Ash’s husky voice sounds. “What’s wrong?”

Nathaniel rolls out his shoulders. “I hate wasting a day with my father.”

Eyes searching his face, she lifts her hands. “Jaw,” she says, tapping his jaw. And it unclenches. “Now shoulders.” Another tap.

Nathaniel’s body relaxes. The tension eases out of him as easy as that. Because of Ash. She’s a goddamn dream.

“Think of it this way,” she says. “It’s another day with your grandfather.”

Nathaniel nods, but he’s hyper-focused on only one thing. “You’re right. But it’s a day away from you.”

Eyes wide, she looks startled by his words. Then expertly resets her face into an expression of nonchalance. “We have tonight. ”

But it’s not enough , he wants to say. Four more days with you is not enough .

“Yeah,” he rasps. It feels like there’s acid in his windpipe.

Ash grins. “If you do one thing for me today, please kick Don’s ass.”

“You can count on it.”

Behind Ash, his father’s gesturing frantically. If there’s one thing Don can’t miss, it’s golf.

Nathaniel blows out a frustrated breath. “I have to go.”

Ash grabs the strap of his golf bag before he can walk away. Yanks it backward so sharply he almost lands on his ass. He catches himself. Spins.

She pulls him against her. In her eyes, fire. “Kill you later.”

His gaze falls to her lips, then lowers.

Her boots.

“Hold on,” he says, and he hits his knees.

For a long minute, Ash is stunned speechless. She blinks down at him.

Eagerly, he slides a hand over her slim calf and looks up at her.

“Watching you nearly die every day is fucking killing me,” he growls, tightening her laces. He takes his time. Lets his gaze travel up those long legs. Beneath her short skirt. To the faint dampness of arousal on the inside of her thighs.

Christ. Instantly, his dick’s hard as a rock.

He loops her last lace, then looks up. “There.”

“My hero,” she quips. Her words are clipped. But her face is flushed. Her eyes wild.

He’s still trying to figure out how this woman made him go from emotionally unavailable to having feelings and tying her goddamn boots in the middle of a hotel lobby in front of his entire family and a handful of strangers.

One thing’s for certain.

He doesn’t care.

Not one goddamn bit.

Nathaniel watches his grandfather quietly. The older man is tired. Putting on a good front, a show for his family. But he sits in the cart at all greens. Resting.

With a long breath out, Nathaniel wipes a towel down his sweaty face. Then he tosses it into the back of the cart. He joins his grandfather, settling in the driver’s seat. Before he can say a word, Augustus says, “Something on your mind?”

Ash. She’s on his mind. Between his backswing and his pitch shot, he’s been driving himself crazy thinking of her. He’s an asshole for turning her loose with his mother and sister.

“Have you been enjoying the trip, Grandpops?”

“I have.” Augustus nods. “I admit, the start was a bit rough, but it’s been better than I expected.”

Because of Ash , Nathaniel thinks.

He reaches into his pocket. Inside, he rolls the rock Ash gave him at Rainbow Falls between his fingers. It’s just a rock, yet it feels like so much more.

They watch as Don, at the ninth hole, manhandles his club.

Augustus scoffs. Crosses his arms over his chest and leans back. “Might as well give him a baseball bat.”

An easy bark of laughter escapes Nathaniel.

“I want to tell you something,” Augustus says, turning to him. “And only you.”

Nathaniel tenses, but he keeps his mouth shut. Gives his full attention.

“When I get back to LA, I’m not doing any more chemo.”

Nathaniel tugs a hand through his hair, feeling sucker punched. “Grandpops, I don’t understand.”

Augustus holds his eyes, no bullshit in his gaze. “Yes, you do. You’re a doctor.”

He does.

He knew early on that chemo and radiation were only extending the time his grandfather had left. That with this type of cancer, the chances were slim. But it’s still not easy to hear. That the hope he had is just that. Hope.

“I’m terminal.” Augustus looks out at the fairway. “I don’t want to drag this out. So I am pivoting, and I’m making peace with that choice.”

He puts an arm around his grandfather’s shoulders. “I believe you,” he says thickly. He’ll never be ready for this. And that hard thought cracks something inside him. Moisture collects at the backs of his eyes. Christ, he doesn’t think he’s cried since he was a child.

But he doesn’t fight it. Instead, he scrubs a hand over his face and says, “I love you, Grandpops.”

His grandfather pulls him in for a hug. Nathaniel holds tight to him for a long time.

“Nate dawg!” Tater’s goofy voice pulls them from the moment. “Dude, check this out.”

In unison, they look over to see him wearing a beer bucket on his head.

Augustus gives a wry laugh. “Please take care of that kid when I’m gone.”

Nathaniel rolls his eyes. “Goddamn idiot,” he says dryly, though he’s secretly thankful for the levity.

“Now don’t tell anyone about my plans yet,” Augustus orders, coming back to the conversation.

Nathaniel’s throat tightens. He curls his fingers around the steering wheel. Squeezes. “What about Ash?”

“I plan to tell her.” Augustus’s voice is steady, but the tremor in his words betrays his nerves. “I plan to tell everyone at the end of the trip.”

Fuck. The last thing he wants to do is keep secrets from Ash. Not now. Not when they’re—

They’re what?

“I don’t want you to worry.” His grandfather’s somber voice derails his thoughts. “We are prepared. We have Ash.” He squeezes Nathaniel’s shoulder. “And after I’m gone, you’ll move on. You’ll all move on.”

Already, he’s sick to his stomach. Move on?

Is that what he’s supposed to do when he gets on that plane? Forget about her? Forget their time together ever happened? Impossible.

Is that what she’ll do?

A rush of denial floods his chest as images pop like sunbursts in his head. Ash stretching catlike in a bed that isn’t his. Her red lipstick smeared over another man’s chest. Those long black nails making their mark down someone else’s back.

Fuck. Fuck this.

He’s going to have a fucking heart attack. He has to fight the urge to gun the gas on the golf cart and drive like a madman back to town. Track down Ash. Tell her—

“Won’t you?”

He blinks his way back to the present. His grandfather’s staring at him expectantly.

“What?” he asks.

“You’ll move on. The North Sea? It’s what you want, right?”

He swallows, making a pained noise. An ache settles behind his ribs. “I don’t know anymore.”

Last night, he received an email promising they’d have an answer for him soon. It seemed so appealing when he applied. When he had wanted to get away from it all.

Expression thoughtful, Augustus settles back into the seat. “One thing I’ve learned in this life, Nathaniel, is that if we’re lucky, we get one shot. One death. One life. One good love. I only had ten years with Rosalea. But the one thing I’m glad for…” Augustus tilts his head back, absorbs the warmth of the late afternoon sun. “I’m glad I didn’t hold back my feelings.”

For some reason, Nathaniel thinks of Ash.

For some reason, he doesn’t stop himself.