For Better or Hearse

Chapter Thirty-Four

“W ell, it’s official,” Ash says as she slips Tater’s T-shirt over her head. She holds her arms out, the huge black T-shirt hanging off her body. “I’m going to die wearing a Big Johnson T-shirt.”

Nathaniel’s face clouds. “Jesus. You’re not going to die.” He hasn’t sounded this disgruntled with her since they first met.

“Just let me have my misery.”

He opens his arms. “Come be miserable over here.”

With a smile, she crosses the sand, then lies beside him on a towel stretched out under the starry sky. They used the last few hours to collect supplies and make a shelter. Well, really, Nathaniel did. He made her sit in the shade while he set up an abandoned beach umbrella he’d stumbled upon. They don’t need shelter, but it makes her feel better.

The Hawaiian night is balmy and as beautiful as she’s ever seen it. A light breeze makes the palm trees sway. The noises coming from the jungle—snuffling animals and crunching sticks—are unnerving, but being curled up in Nathaniel’s arms eases her fears of being devoured in the dark.

She smiles up at the stars. “This is kind of nice,” she murmurs. “You know, minus the whole stranded at sea thing.”

“Except we’re not actually at sea.” Nathaniel drags a towel over her bare legs. Holds her tight, as if he can’t bear to lose her.

“You love this, don’t you?” she asks. “The adrenaline. The wilderness survival skills.”

He gives a short, low laugh. “I’d love it more if you weren’t involved. ”

“The skills will come in handy in the North Sea. Dodging vortexes. Fending off pirates.”

He kisses her brow. “Yeah. Maybe.”

She swallows hard. She still hates the thought of him leaving.

There’s a hand on her brow. “How do you feel?” His voice is low, concerned. Experiencing the doctor side of Nathaniel Whitford up close and personal is extremely sexy. He’s calm, so she’s calm. It makes her feel a little better, at least.

She checks her phone. Her blood sugar’s sixty-eight. The battery on her phone is at 20 percent. So is the granola bar. She had a few bites of it earlier to boost her blood sugar after the hike and her injection.

There’s one bite left. But what happens when it’s gone?

She shows Nathaniel her reading. They both stare at her phone like it’s a bomb. That tick of a green line down, down, down. After a beat, she palms his hard chest. Nods at the granola bar. “You should have a bite.”

“Ash,” he says, brows stern and so serious. “I’m not eating your fucking food.” He lifts himself from the sand to look down at her. “Promise me if you feel sick, you tell me.” That muscle in his jaw flexes. “Don’t be tough. Not about this.”

She nods. “I promise.”

Slowly, she chews the last bite of granola bar.

He’s given her the food, the blanket, the water. No one’s ever cared this much for her. She’s trying to hold on to that. The knowledge that he won’t let anything happen to her. Even as she pushes away the alternatives haunting her. Being stuck here potentially for days. Her mind screams it’s impossible. Right? Someone will notice. Someone will come. But what if they don’t?

Her blood is already on fire. It’s what happens when her sugar is low. Sweating and lightheadedness. She muted the shrieking alarm on her phone. She couldn’t take it anymore. Because she knows. It’s all no good .

Still, despite everything, she’s glad she’s here. With Nathaniel.

Using his change of clothes as makeshift pillows, Nathaniel lies down again. He reaches for her, his big, possessive hand landing on her waist.

She snuggles in closer, into the curve of his arm. “This is the best kind of terminal burrowing.”

His laugh is choked. “Let’s not get morbid.”

“Tell me a truth. Zombie apocalypse skill.”

“Being able to drive a manual transmission. You?”

“Mine would be the very powerful skill of annoyance.”

Silence falls. The crash of waves thud onto the beach.

Snuggled into Nathaniel’s broad chest, Ash rises and falls with the sync of his breaths. She closes her eyes.

“What if no one comes?”

“They’ll come.” He answers fast, certain.

What if no one comes in time.

More silence. He strokes her hair. Slow, calming strokes. She can’t be sure if they’re for her or him.

“Nathaniel?” She chances the question. “What do you think happens when we die?”

His body goes stiff, and he makes a kind of pained noise. “Ash.”

“No, I’m serious. I want to know.” Clearly, dark times call for baring all.

He’s quiet for a long second, then concedes with a sigh. “I think…I think your life is like a spark running down a fuse. And when it fizzles out, we’re just…done. Blackness.”

“Wow,” she says drolly. “Boring and not at all hopeful.”

He snorts. “What’s the Ash Keller explanation, then?”

“I, and this is my personal hot take, like to envision ghosts or reincarnation. I don’t think it’s the end.” She shrugs, allows a little peace to seep into her. “It’s what gives me hope. It’s what lets me do my job without turning into a blubbering mess. That there is something else out there waiting for us. That big secret at the end of our life that we finally get to find out about.”

“I hope your theory is right,” he tells her, voice thickening. “I really do, Ash.”

“What do you want in life?” Her eyes flick to his. “You asked me at the lighthouse. But you never told me what you want.”

Nathaniel shifts, pulling her in closer. His voice is low and rough. Fierce in its intensity.

“What I want is to get off this goddamn island,” he swears quietly. With a hand on her chin, he holds her gaze. In the dark, his eyes burn. “I want you to be warm and safe and most importantly…be mine. Be mine, Ash.”

His words knock the wind out of her. His voice is convincing and firm, as if he knows what they are when even she doesn’t.

There’s a weight in her chest, and it’s increasing its pressure.

She wants to stop it, wants to tamp down the blooming feeling inside her. Wants to continue telling herself it’s easier to be tough, to put others first, to close herself off because of what happened to her.

But she can’t. Not anymore.

No more pushing. No more heart of thorns. No more fear.

Here, in Nathaniel’s arms, it’s okay. Okay to be herself. Okay to let herself move on with her life, to cobble together some semblance of happiness and embrace it during the time she has left on this planet.

Lifting up on her arm, she traces gentle fingers over his handsome face. Those cheekbones. Those lush lips. Nathaniel’s beautiful, thumping heart. He whimpers as she leans in, barely sweeping her lips against his.

“I am,” she whispers. “I am yours.” Cups his cheek. “And you’re mine too.”

The thorns around her heart release.

It blooms.

Nathaniel stares into her eyes. Makes a rough sound in the back of his throat. Palms her face with both hands and crushes his mouth to hers.

They’re both breathing heavily when she pulls back. She looks at him in wonder. Feeling so light she could float away. Like there’s never been any kiss, any man, any love to exist except Nathaniel. And then she takes a hard breath and says, “Ashabelle.” Her voice wobbles. Her eyes sting. “My real name is Ashabelle.”

“Ashabelle,” he echoes, his tone full of amazement. No humor or mockery.

“My parents couldn’t decide on a name. For two weeks after I was born, they called me the baby. Just the baby. My mother liked Ash, but not Ashley or Ashton. My father liked Isabelle. So, they combined what they liked and got Ashabelle.”

“Ashabelle,” Nathaniel says again. In the darkness, a glimmer of a smile. “It’s so Disney princess. So, so, so…” His wondering gaze scours her face. “You.”

She laughs. “Excuse me?”

“It’s you. Crispy outside, chewy center.” He palms her cheek, tucking a lock of wild, salty-sea-waved hair behind her ear. “Tough. Mean. Beautiful. I love it.” He kisses her brow. “Every single part of you is perfect.”

Her lips part. But she can’t find the words. Instead, the walls around her heart crumble. Prisons collapse in her rib cage. She couldn’t stop it if she tried.

Without another word, they settle on the sand. Nathaniel pulls her onto his chest and holds her. She doesn’t have to ask. She already knows he’s staying up.

She’s exhausted, but she lies there, thinking. Contemplating the big, wide universe above them. Tessie’s words echo in her head. See where it goes.

God. What a fucking fabulous notion.

Suddenly, she feels lightheaded. There’s a tight, stressful feeling in her chest. Low blood sugar or heart attack, she can’t tell.

She closes her eyes. The stars wink out .

It’s not a heart attack.

Fuck.

It’s love. It’s Nathaniel.

Morning comes. Too soon. Too bright.

Groaning, Ash tucks her chin into her chest and covers her eyes. She feels like shit.

Dammit. By the smell of the salty sea air, they’re still on the island.

Beside her, Nathaniel wakes with a lurch and a whispered shit .

A big, tentative palm lands on her back. Like he’s gauging her breathing. “Ash?”

“I’m alive.” Slowly, she rolls over. Sand digs into the knobs of her elbows as she sits up and scans the beach. “Anyone?”

A rattle of a breath shakes out of him. “Not yet.”

With trembling hands, she grabs her phone. Tosses it back on the sand.

“My phone’s dead,” she tells him. But she doesn’t need a phone to know she’s fucked. She can feel it. The edge of her blood sharpening. Clammy skin. Blurry vision. Numb lips.

Still, she forces a smile. “I’m okay.”

“That’s the first lie I think you’ve told.”

She huffs a laugh. “Yeah, well, let’s just say a twinkie sounds fabulous right now.”

“We’ll get you a twinkie,” Nathaniel says, slipping his sandals on. “All the twinkies you want.”

His words blur as her head, her whole body sway a little.

“Ash?”

She blinks herself back at the sensation of his hand on her shoulder.

“It hurts, Nathaniel.” Fire. It’s the only way she can describe how her blood feels .

Pain flashes in his eyes. “I know it does.”

He scoops up his phone. “I’m going to walk east again. Try to get a signal.” Expression grim, he takes her chin, angles her head so she’s forced to meet his gaze. “I will get a signal.”

Ash licks her dry lips. “Okay. What can I do?”

He dips down so they’re eye to eye. Kisses her brow. “Stay here. Stay in the shade. Save your energy.”

Ash nods.

After one last long look at her, Nathaniel jogs off. He’s panicking but trying to keep it under wraps. For her.

As she watches his broad-shouldered form determinedly jog across the sand and disappear, she doesn’t move. She scans the beach. The gravity of the situation dawns.

If she has to go another day here, she’s fucked.

More than fucked. She’s dead.

On shaky legs, she stands and stretches, leaving the cool shade of the umbrella. She doesn’t know what her blood sugar is, but it feels like that time she fell to a precarious all-time low of forty-five. Her mom fussed over her, and she got to drink an entire Dr Pepper and hoover a Moon Pie, and it was fabulous.

Sunlight warm on her face, sweat beading her brow, she crosses the sand. She’s boiling. Her clothes stick to parts of her body she’d forgotten about. On a sigh, she leans back against the thick trunk of a palm tree.

Can she freeze time and become one with the tree? She looks up. The bright blue sky above is shielded by thick fronds, heavy with coconuts. It all feels slightly surreal, impossible. Like any second, she’ll wake from a fever dream. Is this what it’s like? Is this how it ends?

She’s going to die. Trapped on an island with Nathaniel Whitford. All because she snuck off to have the best sex of her life.

And she won’t even get a coconut before she dies. A weird laugh pops out of her mouth. The unhinged kind. Clearly, she’s losing it .

“Fuck,” she says, pushing off the tree. Another wave of dizziness nearly knocks her over. Squinting, she scans the ocean for a boat, a ship, anything.

Who is she kidding? No one’s coming. At least not in time.

Shit. Just when she was getting the hang of this love thing.

If it is the end, if it is her time, she has to tell him. That he’s the tall, serious asshole she loves.

Ash’s heart flutters. She smiles at that. Then sways.

She has to get back to her shelter. Nathaniel will flip his shit if he returns and finds her walking around, wasting the precious energy she has.

With another step forward, she shields her eyes against the bright glare of the sun. As she does, the wind kicks up and the leaves on the trees around her rustle.

There’s a thump , then a crack.

Instantly, pain radiates through her—skull, eyes, face. “Fucking ow,” she growls.

The world goes hazy. Her body feels weird. Discombobulated, she looks up, blinking, rubbing her head.

The stars.

Oh, wait. No.

Shit.

Her vision blurs.

The ground.