Page 173 of For Better or Hearse
God, he’s pathetic. But he doesn’t give a shit anymore.
He’s ready for a normal life. On land. With his morbid little beauty. Her gallows humor, that massive black cloud of hair, and her fierce, kissable mouth. That black cottage on the beach. Bringing breakfast to the girl in his bed.Cryptozoology Monthly, peanut butter crackers, whatever it is that will make her happy. He’ll overpay for helicopter rides to any and all haunted locations. And most of all, he can’t wait to hear her call him her Very Tall Asshole until the end of their days.
He misses her.
Right now, he has to suck it up and do his job. The crew needs him. He has to get his head on straight.
Their love stretches that distance. Can she feel it too?
That Ash-shaped space in his heart won’t change because they’re apart. If anything, the time away has only cemented how much he loves her.
Another wave hits, and theSophia Mariesways, violently tilting sideways. Nathaniel grips the railing to stay afoot. Rather than righting itself immediately like it should, the rig is pitched, and now the ocean is closer than it was before.
As he searches the black sky for the helicopter, he realizes it wasn’t a wave that hit it.
A siren sounds through the rush of the wind. Crewman scramble onto the deck.
Alert, Nathaniel whips around. There’s a glow on the rig that wasn’t there earlier. And it’s spreading. Fire.
“Fuck.” Nathaniel grabs his radio and sends an SOS to the ship. And then he’s moving, heading into the chaos, even as Ash whispers in his ear.
Be careful. Come back to me.
Barely two weeks without Nathaniel, and she’s already looney tunes.
After another restless night of sleep, Ash wakes at nine. Changes her clothes and makes a pot of tea. She eats a six-day-old slice of cake for breakfast, because YOLO dumb ways to die, and takes a scalding shower. Then she heads to Augustus’s cottage.
After a lunch of tuna salad sandwiches and chips, Ash cleans the dishes in the sink and rinses them in hot water. She sets the fine china back inside the curio cabinet and dries off her hands.
She needs these moments full of tediousness and monotony. When she’s not with Augustus, she’s preparingA Very Good Deathfor launch. She met with a lawyer about setting up an LLC and a contract to protect herself and her clients.
Anything to take her mind off Nathaniel. Off why every conversation they have is stilted and awkward. Why it’s been so damn hard to get ahold of him out on the rig. He said he’d have service, a connection, but for the last two days, there’s been radio silence. What if…
Ash swallows back the trepidation rising inside her, grips the countertop tight. Stares out the window at Augustus’s lush backyard.
What if he doesn’t want to talk to her?
Ash growls at herself, wipes down the counters and stove. God, she’s like one of those frontier women perched at the window, waiting for her hero to return from war.
Her anxiety is a riot. She can’t stop overthinking all the ways she ruined what they had. What if he’s realizing she’s a mess hedoesn’t want to clean up? What if he’s reconsidering his options? What if he’d rather have the North Sea than her? What if he doesn’t trust her anymore because he believes she doesn’t love him?
The thought has her gasping for air.
Where is her hard shell when she needs it? Her anger? Her spite? All she has in her head anymore is Nathaniel. Brain space, brain waves, he occupies every last bit. She wants him here beside her. Wants to rest her head on his shoulder and inhale his salty sea scent. That hit of calm for her senses. Her heart.
She dissects the argument in her head. What he said. What she said. She wants to apologize. Craves it so badly it’s a soul-deep ache.
She hurt him. It was evident in the look on his face when she said they shouldn’t be together. Blue eyes glassy, shoulders defeated. That sharp jaw moving over and over. Her stomach roils at the memory. At the knowledge that she was the cause of his pain. It breaks her little black heart that they spent their last minutes together arguing when they could have spent them making love or planning their future or threatening bodily harm upon one another.
Most of all, she wishes she could take it all back.
“Ash?” Augustus hovers in the doorway, gripping the frame tightly. Holding himself up. “Chess?”
“I’ll set it up.” She doesn’t want him to struggle with righting the pieces like he did yesterday. “I need the practice.”
Augustus scoffs. “I know charity when I see it, my dear, but like I told Betty White in 1972, I’ll shut up and play along.”
Ash laughs and flicks a towel at him. “Go rest. There’s a recliner with your very fancy name on it.”