Page 101 of For Better or Hearse
He tilts his head, surprised, but remains quiet, waiting for the story there.
“If you can believe that.” Her laugh is light. “After I found out I had diabetes. Like I could fix myself.”
Frowning, he runs his hands over her thigh. Those tattooshe knows all about. The black rose she got to celebrate her death doula certification. The colorful lotus watercolor to honor her aunt’s passing. “There’s nothing about you that needs fixing.”
She purses her lips, thoughtful, and stabs another piece of fruit. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He doesn’t like that. Her response, her flat tone make his heart constrict in his chest.
She shifts in the sheets. Sets her bowl down. “All my life, I could never really stay with anything. I had all these jobs. Professional mourner. Wedding objector.” Her eyes flick guiltily to his. “I was all over the place. Sometimes, I still feel like that. Grasping at rings, desperate to be the person I thought I was, all while everyone is trying to tell me who they think I should be. I don’t know. The sameness of life was always so boring to me. I could never sit still. I liked the dark, the gloom, the weird. But I made bad professional choices.” She utters a bitter laugh. “Bad life choices.”
“You do that,” he says gently. “When you talk about yourself. Put yourself down.”
“Observation skills?” She arches a brow. “This early in the morning?” It comes off light, like a tease, even though it’s more of a push.
When it comes to Ash, he’s learning she has something he can’t touch. But he wants to. He wants to open that box.
The wild thrill of Ash Keller is his new favorite thing.
“What would you do?” he asks. “If you could do anything?” He wants to get as much out of her as he can before she clams up.
A sudden shyness crosses her face.
“Honestly…” She laughs, then bites her lip in that endearing yet vulnerable way he’s learned is her nervous tic. “This. I love this whole death doula thing. For the first time, I feel like I’ve found my calling. And like it’s enough to…” She trails off, a slight break to her voice.
“What?” he presses.
“To make it a business.” Excitement leaps into her words. “Mycompany. Have a whole website and everything. I have ideas. A name.” She pulls her knees under her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs. “A Very Good Death.”
“I like that.”
She laughs. “I feel like a freak even commercializing death, but…”
“Not a freak,” he interjects. “You offer a service that’s needed. You should do it.”
Anyone would be lucky to have Ash by their side at the end of their life.
“Yeah. Maybe.” She opens her mouth, closes it. “Like I’d even have the slightest idea where to start.In case you haven’t guessed, I’m not that great at organization or business.”
He studies her. Suddenly hit by the urge to pull his billionaire card and give her everything. Everything she wants, she gets. No more struggling to pay for overpriced insulin supplies. No more shitty part-time jobs. He wants Ash to have a job she loves. She’d never ask for help or handouts. Little Miss I Can Handle Anything. It’s one thing he respects about her, and yet…
“But yeah. That’s what I’d do.” The wistfulness in her eyes falls away, replaced by a dark and hazy cloud. “Maybe one day I’ll be someone with their life together. No mess. No chaos.”
“Hey,” he says fiercely, pulling her into his arms. Closing the gap between them. “I like your mess. Your chaos.”
She shakes her head, her stubborn gaze flicking up to meet his. “You say that now.”
“I mean it.” He kisses her deeply. The world stops.
Purring, Ash twines her arms around his neck. Rakes her nails through his hair as they kiss and kiss and kiss.
Her smile is feline when she pulls back. She nuzzles once at his neck, bites his lip.
He tucks her unruly black hair behind her ears. He knows he told her no feelings, but he’s wondering if that ship hasn’t sailed. “Maybe in Maui, we can get an adjoining room.”
She inhales sharply, stiffening in his arms. “Right.” Twisting away from him, she moves to the edge of the bed.
His stomach gutters. He fucked up. Said the wrong thing.