Page 142 of For Better or Hearse
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 athump, then acrack.
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.
Nathaniel runs like his life depends on it—only it’s not his life.
It’s Ash’s.
Phone held high, he hikes to the east side of the island. But he still has no service. “Fuck.” He stomps into the wild brush of the jungle. “Fuck.”
Where the hell is his family? When he gets back to Maui, he’ll murder every single one of them. He’s never been so fucking terrified. His blood is on fire; he can barely breathe.
Panic’s set in. He’s trying to hide it for Ash’s sake, but they both know it’s a nightmare scenario. She needs sugar. She needs sugar very fucking badly. Cold permeates him at the thought of what happens if she doesn’t get it.
Her life is at stake.
He squeezes his eyes shut. Fights for calm. Emotion is a luxury he can’t afford.
This is why he works out on that rig.Stay away. Stay unattached. Stay emotionless.
But he can’t. Not with Ash.
That woman activates every fight-or-flight reflex ingrained in him. He wants to take care of her. He’s protective of her. He cares for her. The thought of leaving her, the thought of her getting sick on his watch when he’s fucking helpless to help, carves up every inch of him.