Page 175 of For Better or Hearse
It’s instantaneous. The disintegration of her heart. Just dust. Disappearing into the ether.
She closes her eyes. “What kind of something?”
“I don’t have many details yet. All I know is there was an accident.”
“Fuck.” She opens her eyes, seeks out Augustus. Her vision blurs. Her hand shakes around the phone. It’s like the death of herself with just one phone call. “Fuck.”
Not him. Not Nathaniel.
Chaos. Mess. For once, it’s not Ash’s.
The Whitford family fills Augustus’s cottage, making it headquarters for Operation Nathaniel Whitford Rescue. They won’t give up until he’s found and brought home.
They came together impossibly fast. Delaney jetting back from France in record time. Tate leaving his studio in downtown LA halfway through his podcast recording. Don and Claire, each on their phones, pace the living room floor. It’d be comedic if the situation wasn’t so terrifying.
Ash’s heart’s stopped a thousand times since they got news that Nathaniel was missing. The audacity of her Very Tall Asshole to make her worry about him.
“He can swim like a shark, dawg,” Tate tells Delaney. Despite his cavalier tone, his face is drawn. “Look on the bright side. At least he’s not in the North Sea.”
Ash, hovering over the table where a map of the California coast lies, glares at him. “Not helpful.”
“Idiot,” Delaney snaps, looking up from her tarot spread. She’s on hands and knees on Augustus’s Moroccan rug. Her lower lip wobbles. “That isn’t funny.”
Claire hangs up the phone. She’s pale. “I just heard from the coast guard.” Tears roll down her cheeks. “TheSophia Mariecollapsed after it was hit by a cargo ship. Most of the rig crumbled. A fire broke out.”
Ash covers her mouth, smothering a scream. She knows, sheknowsNathaniel went back. He wouldn’t leave anyone behind. Especially not if there was an accident.
Ash tries out her voice. “Are there any survivors?”
“Two people were rescued from the water,” Claire whispers. Don reaches out to steady her. “Four others are presumed dead.”
Every person in the room gasps in unison.
“They’re taking survivors to Cedars-Sinai.”
Delaney gulps. “We need to go there.”
Tate runs for the keys.
“I’m the one who’s supposed to go first, damn it,” Augustus says, his voice in fissures. “Not my grandson.”
“Sit down,” Ash commands. Gently, she helps him into a recliner.
He obeys, but he curses and grinds a fist against his temple, a sure sign that a migraine’s begun.
Awful. It’s all awful. She’s frozen, helpless. She doesn’t know whether to scream or to fall apart or to put herself to work.
Don speaks, crossing the room. “We have a search and rescue going out.” Though his expression is stoic, there’s the faintest tremor in his voice. “I hired an additional team to help with the search.”
For once she’s thankful for Don’s bluster, his billions. If it finds Nathaniel, if it finds any survivors, she’ll never gently bully the man again.
“If he’s in the water, it’s warm enough, right?” She doesn’t even recognize her voice. High pitched. Shaky. “To survive?”
She looks at Don, and Don looks at her. “I’m not sure,” he says bluntly.
Blood draining from her face, Ash sinks onto the couch and buries her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake. Those fuckingthorns around her heart are gone, forever, but right now, she’d do anything to get them back.
To live means death. But she’s not ready to face this life without Nathaniel.