It took him longer than usual to get up the steps to Sherri’s place, with all the fallen debris and broken tree branches littering the way. Ash took his time to clear it and by the time he got to the top, he was more than ready to enjoy one of the cold beers he’d brought up with him in a cooler full of supplies for Sherri.

But the beer would have to wait, because something was wrong. Very wrong.

When Ash spoke to Sherri before the storm, she’d told him she’d been able to secure the shutters. She’d told him not to worry.

He should have worried.

The shutters had not been secured. Or at least, not all of them. Some were hanging off their hinges; others were still wide open. And only a few that had been secured were still that way and unopened.

“Sherri?”

She should have opened them by now.

Ash dropped the cooler at the front door and tried the handle. “Sure. It’s locked.” He shook his head and yelled again. “Sherri!”

He threw his shoulder into the door and the wood gave way with a crack big enough that he could reach inside and unlock the door. Ash pushed through the splintered wood and looked around. “Sherri? Where are you?”

The house was a mess; water and branches and leaves littered the floor. Glasses were broken and dishes had been scattered across the counter. Medicine bottles laid among the mess. Fortunately, from what he could tell, the lids were all on, and the medicine inside was intact.

He moved straight for the loft, silently cursing the stupidity of having the bed up a ladder and away from any help. If she was hurt or too sick to move, it would be very difficult to get her down. Keeping her condition from Heather, a fact he liked less and less, would no longer be an option.

“Sherri. Are you up here?”

A noise that sounded like a whimper came from across the main room. Not in the loft. He took the last few steps up the ladder just to be sure. The loft was empty. Completely empty. No mattress, no blankets. No Sherri.

Ash all but jumped down the ladder to the floor and spun around to see the large pile of blankets that had been heaped in the corner moving.

“Sherri?”

A blanket moved, revealing his friend’s face. Her very pale, very tired face.

He crossed the distance in two steps and was down on his knees in front of her. “What’s going on? Are you hurt? The storm—it was worse than we thought. I shouldn’t have left you up here. What do you need? What’s—”

“I’m fine.”

She wasn’t. Her voice was thin and thready. The hand she reached out to him, weak and frail. Whatever was going on, Sherri was much sicker than she’d been letting on.

“You’re not.” Ash dug through the blankets and saw she was resting on her mattress. Confused, he looked up toward her sleeping loft and back to Sherri, who shrugged and attempted a small smile.

“You were right. Maybe sleeping up there was a bad idea.” It was a bad idea and more than anything at that moment, he wanted to reaffirm his opinion on that, but it clearly wasn’t necessary and there were bigger problems. “After you left last time, I pushed the mattress off the ledge and made myself a nest. It works better.”

“I would have helped you.” He should have helped her. “Your stubbornness is going to be the death of you.” He spoke before thinking and immediately wished he hadn’t. “I mean…I shouldn’t have…”

“No.” She laughed, but it lacked her usual gusto. “It likely will be the death of me. But if I’m going to go, I’d rather go on my own terms, don’t you think?”

He didn’t and he told her as much before helping her sit up, fixing her a drink and a snack of applesauce. Which he all but force-fed her in order to be sure she got it all into her body. She looked so frail and thin. How had she gotten so thin in only a few days? It had only been days since he’d been up to see her, right?

No.

It had been longer. A lot longer. Shit.

He’d said he’d come every two days, but then life got busy. That wasn’t true. Heather had happened. Guilt flooded through him as he held a straw to Sherri’s lips and she took a few small sips of water before she shook her head away. She was behaving like a palliative care patient. She wasn’t palliative.

Not yet.

And if Ash had anything to say about it, she’d never be.

“I shouldn’t have left you up here, Sher. I’m sorry.”

“I told you to.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have listened.”

Sherri laughed, and for a moment, she sounded like herself. “And what makes you think you stand any kind of chance against what I want?”

He joined in and chuckled right along with her. It was true. He didn’t stand a chance fighting against what Sherri wanted. But that was healthy Sherri and it was more than clear that he was no longer dealing with healthy Sherri.

“How about the storm, Sher? You lied. You weren’t okay.” He gestured around with his arm. “This does not look okay.”

She paused for a minute, obviously weighing what she was going to say. “It’s fine. I think it looks worse than it is. Besides, what was I going to say? That I needed help?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what you should have said.”

“And then what, Ash?” Her eyes flared. Two spots of life in her gray face. “You would have left Heather? You know you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t have taken the guests to Bocas. They would have missed their flights.”

He racked his brain for a rebuttal. What would he have done? What choices did he have?

He didn’t.

She was right; it would have been an impossible choice. His loyalty would have been to Sherri. Had he known she was as bad as she was, he would have gone to her.

The guests would have waited. Missed flights or not. Heather was a smart, capable woman—whether she thought she was or not—and she would have been fine. Sherri would have been the clear choice.

And she would have hated it.

“You still should have told me.”

She shook her head softly. “I’m telling you now.”

“It’s not the same,” he chastised and then added, “But I know it’s the best I’m going to get.”

“Smart boy.” Sheri patted his hand and he got the oddest sense that she was consoling him. Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?

* * *

Despite the storm and the whole incident on the swim platform, Heather felt great. It could have been the warm sunshine drying the pools of standing water and heating up the last traces of chill in her bones. It could have been the fact that she’d had a successful run learning how to drive the boat. And she’d loved it. Feeling the wind in her hair and the independence of being able to move around had been amazing.

It could have been either of those things contributing to Heather’s good mood, but she knew it wasn’t. It was more than that. It was Ash.

It was definitely Ash.

How could she be feeling anything for anybody after what she’d been through with Joe? She could keep denying it, but there was no point. She was developing feelings for Ash. There was no way to know what they meant or what on earth she was going to do about them. But they were there and they were making her feel fantastic.

For the moment, that’s all she needed to know.

Even after what he’d told her. Maybe it was because of what he’d confessed. He’d been through a lot. They both had, in their own ways. Ash’s story was tragic, that was for sure. And he’d said there’d never be anything more between them because of his past. That should have bothered her.

But instead of letting it get under her skin, it actually made her feel…well, she wasn’t sure. But the one thing she did know for sure was that the storm had been cleansing.

It was a new day and she was ready to face it.

It didn’t even bother her that Ash had gone up the hill to visit Sherri. Not that it should bother her. But she knew something was wrong with the older woman and it was killing her that Ash wouldn’t tell her what was going on. Maybe she could help. Even if she couldn’t, she’d be able to lend an ear. A loving hug. Whatever was going on, it could only be better if she knew what was going on.

There was no point dwelling on that, though. She’d asked. Multiple times, but she was no closer to knowing what was going on. He’d tell her whatever she needed to know when she needed to know. Of that she was sure. Until then, she wasn’t going to worry about it.

With all the major clean-up done, and the sun drying up the last bits of water that had snuck through the shutters, and no guests to entertain, Heather found herself with too much time on her hands. She glanced over at the bar, where the laptop was. She should be checking reservations and emailing potential guests, but Heather knew what would happen the second she turned on the computer. And there was no way she wanted her mother, or even her mother’s words, invading her space on this day, when she was finally feeling good. No way.

But after puttering around grande casa for another twenty minutes, there was no more avoiding it. She had new guests arriving in a few days.

“I should probably check to make sure they weren’t delayed by the storm.” Heather spoke to the dog, in the habit she’d gotten into over the last few weeks whenever she found herself alone. Thor always seemed to be at her feet, and she didn’t mind. She’d never had a dog of her own before and she found his constant companionship comforting.

Thor whined in agreement or defeat—she couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t matter. There was no putting it off any longer. Ash could be back any minute and she’d certainly rather spend her time with him, especially when they were alone, in a million different ways.

As it always did, the computer took a few minutes to fire up, but as soon as it did, the email program lit up with unread messages. She filed those away and focused on the notes from guests, and potential new guests. Finally, when she was finished organizing a few more reservations, she went to open the emails from her mother, only there weren’t any.

“That can’t be right.”

Heather scrolled through the inbox again and clicked on her web-based email program and checked it as well. Still nothing. “Maybe she finally gave up on me,” she said to Thor, who lifted his head from his paws and yawned before laying it back down. “That’s kind of how I feel about it right now.”

There were probably a million explanations for why there were no messages, half of them might even be reasonable reasons, but there was no point in worrying about it.

Not when there were more fun things to do.

Heather closed the computer and walked out to the dock, Thor at her heels. The water was calm and just as gorgeous as it usually was. It was hard to believe that not even twenty-four hours ago, there’d been a tropical storm whipping up those very same waters. She gazed out across to the mangroves on the opposite shore from Casa del Sol.

“What do you think, buddy?” She squatted next to the dog and scratched his head. “Do you think I can get those sea grapes over there that Sherri was talking about?” Thor whined and licked her face, making her laugh. “It shouldn’t be too hard, right? I can take the canoe.”

The canoe.

She’d forgotten all about the boat she’d inadvertently sunk the day before. Looking toward the swim platform, where she’d last seen it, turned up nothing but the frayed rope hanging from the cleat where Ash had cut it in an effort to save it. “But if he’d cut it…” She scanned the shoreline. “Where would it have gone?” Her question was answered when she finally spotted what looked like could be the canoe, or at least the tip of it, sticking out in the water by the mangroves at the far end of the property.

At least it wasn’t totally lost. Maybe with Ash’s help, they could dig it out enough to bail and save it? Hopefully. In the meantime, she definitely wouldn’t be taking the canoe to find the sea grapes, but now that the idea was in her head, she really wanted to get some. Besides, if she could make a delicious salad with some of the herbs and lettuces from the garden, the sea grapes would be a crunchy addition. And then maybe she could redeem herself from the burnt breakfast fiasco.

Once the idea was in her head, Heather couldn’t shake it. She glanced up toward the treehouse, but there was still no sign of Ash. She’d have time.

Besides, she’d just successfully completed instruction in the panga, so there was no reason not to take the boat out on her own. “You wait here, Thor.”

She ran over to the boat and started up the engine on the first try, just like Ash showed her, before untying the bow line. Thor ran along the dock, barking as she backed the boat away from the dock and the bungalow. As soon as she was a safe distance away, she pressed down on the throttle and urged the boat to go faster. The trip across the channel to the grove of mangroves wasn’t far, but since she was out there, there was no harm in going for a little spin to enjoy herself.

The wind whipped through her hair, tangling it around her face, but Heather loved it. She always enjoyed a boat ride, especially in the little wooden panga, but as she was discovering, she absolutely loved it when she was alone and in total control of the boat. It was empowering knowing that she was in total control of the boat.

And her life.

She pushed the boat to go even faster out through the channel and around the corner of the mangroves into another bay. She tipped her head back and let out a shriek of joy. And another. And another until she was laughing with the thrill of it all.

It felt strange and wonderful. Inappropriate and entirely perfect all at the same time. In the middle of the ocean, surrounded by mangroves. The sun high in the sky, butterflies dancing over the bow. Heather let herself laugh. Tears of mirth streamed down her face and when finally the last chuckle faded away, she wiped at her face, looked around to get her bearings and put her hand back on the throttle.

She gave the boat a little gas. It leapt forward and then….

Nothing.

Heather flicked her wrist, trying to rev the boat, but nothing. She tried again. And a third time, but the boat wasn’t going anywhere.

“Dammit.”

The fact that the boat had stopped wasn’t terribly concerning. Or at least it wouldn’t have been, if Heather had any idea of where she was. She looked around again. All the mangroves looked the same, and she couldn’t find a landmark that gave her any indication of where Casa del Sol might be. Not that it would help much considering she’d barely gone out in the boat since she’d arrived at the B&B.

Worse—Ash had no idea where she was. And there was no way to tell him.

* * *

He spent the next few hours moving around the house, cleaning the floors, gathering the debris, and opening the shutters to let some light shine in.

As Ash worked, Sherri stayed in her little nest of pillows and blankets in the corner of the room. From time to time, he glanced over to see how she was. Most of the time, she was sleeping, but a few times he caught her watching him.

When he was finally finished with the major clean-up, he moved to the kitchen area and examined the bottles of pills that were scattered about. Some of them were prescription, not that they were specific to her, but that wasn’t unusual for Panama where medicine was readily available, but most of them looked to be vitamins or some types of supplements. And of course, there was a healthy amount of weed in a baggie.

“For the pain,” Sherri said when he lifted the bag for closer inspection.

“You’re awake.” It wasn’t a question. “Are you in pain?”

“At the moment?” She shook her head. “No more than usual. It also helps with the nausea.” She paused and finally admitted, “It just helps.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged and put the bag back where he found it and continued to tidy. No longer because the house was in shambles, but more now because he wanted to see what she was taking. He took a minute, finished up with the bottles before finally grabbing himself a beer.

Ash settled down next to Sherri on her bed, took a slug of his beer and finally asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue all day. “Tell me how you’re doing.”

She opened her mouth to say something. But before she said anything, she closed it and pressed her lips together.

“Tell me how you’re really doing. I’ll know if you’re lying. Tell me, Sher. Please.” The last word came out as the plea he meant it to be because he needed to know. Yes, after seeing what he’d just seen, he needed to know.

“It’s fine. I’m taking my pills and following the protocol and—”

“Stop.” Ash shook his head and looked down at his lap. “Do not tell me any bullshit about pills and supplements and for the love of God, do not tell me a goddamn thing about protocol. Not one. Just tell me what’s going on, Sher. Tell me you’re going to be okay. Tell me you’re taking care of yourself and you’re just about to turn a corner or please, please tell me you’re going to let me take you in to the hospital.”

Sherri didn’t say anything right away. When the silence stretched out to the point where it was almost unbearable, Ash turned to see whether she’d fallen asleep again. Her dark eyes stared back at him, unblinking. “Sherri.” His voice was barely a whisper. “This is crazy. Please.”

She shook her head slowly. So slowly it barely moved, but he saw it. More than that, he saw the small tear that formed in the corner of her eye but didn’t fall. “No,” was all she said.

“Sherri.” He stopped himself just short of begging. He didn’t want to beg, but he would. Without a doubt, he’d get down on his knees and beg the woman he loved more than his own mother to let him take her to the hospital in any kind of last-minute effort to save her life because clearly she was dying right in front of him and he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.

Her hand reached out from the pile of blankets. The touch on his arm was so light, it tickled the skin. “I have to do this my way.” He opened his mouth to protest, but the look in her eyes stopped him. “No, Ash. I know you don’t understand. I know it’s hard and you just want to fix this but some things can’t be fixed with medicine and doctors.”

“That’s bullshit.” He curled his fingers around the bottle of beer. “This can be fixed with medicine and doctors. Or at the very least, it will give you a fighting chance, Sherri. And that’s better than what you’re doing right now. You’re up here in the tree, hiding and waiting to die.”

“Is that what you think? Really?”

He nodded. “I do.”

She took a minute, as if the very effort of formulating an argument was costing her precious energy she didn’t have and Ash felt a pang of guilt at the idea that he was costing her that energy. “Ash. You know I love you.”

He did.

“You know I think of you as my own.”

He knew that too.

“And you know that I have no problem telling you when I think you’re being an asshole.”

He smiled, because he already knew that.

“This is mine, Ash.” She took a deep breath and he could have sworn he heard the air filling her thin, fragile lungs. “This disease is mine. It’s my battle to fight or to win. On my own.” She held up a finger to silence him before he spoke. “And when I go into battle, it’s up to me to choose my arsenal.”

“But what if you’re purposely turning down the best possible army in favor of—”

“Of what?” With effort, she pushed herself up so she looked directly into his eyes. “Of nature and energy and faith? Yes. I am. I’m choosing that over an army of medicine with pockets lined with big business, corruption, and greed whose number-one purpose isn’t to cure me—it’s to pad bank accounts. But don’t forget, I haven’t totally given up on the drugs. I’m taking them, too. Remember? But just the minimum. I don’t need to give them any more of my money if I can help it. So if that’s what you think I’m doing, then you’re correct.”

She was exaggerating. She was overblowing what was probably a small issue, but Ash couldn’t totally disagree with her. Especially the part about it being her war to fight. She was right about that. He had no business telling her what to do. No matter how badly he wanted to scoop her up and carry her into a hospital. It might be killing her. But it wasn’t his battle to fight.

But he could help.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he said again. “If this is what you want to do. Let’s do it.”

She looked at him with narrowed eyes and tilted her head sideways. “Do what?”

“Let’s fight.” The idea flooded through him with so much intensity he wanted to jump up and sort it out right away. “We can fight it your way. But I’m in.”

“You?”

“Yes. Me.”

“You’re in.”

“I’m in.”

Sherri was quiet for a minute but finally she asked, “What does that mean?”

“You have some herbs and vitamins up here.” He waved his arm in the vicinity of the counter and the bottles he’d just finished organizing. “You even have some modern medicine.”

She nodded because he wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know.

“But we can do better.”

“We can what?”

“Do better.”

Ash swallowed hard. He’d done his best to protect his personal life and more importantly, details of his past from anyone in Panama. Including Sherri. She knew about Carlie. She knew what he’d been through. But she didn’t know everything. “I can help.”

“You already do, Ash.” Her hand squeezed his.

“No.” Ash stared into her eyes. “I can really help, Sherri. I have…resources.” It was an understatement of the largest degree, but he didn’t know what else to say. How else was he supposed to explain that he had more money than he’d ever be able to spend in ten lifetimes? He couldn’t. So he didn’t try. “Whatever you need. I can make it happen.”

“I have everything.”

“You don’t. We can do better. So let’s do it.”

“Ash, I—”

“No, Sher. Let me do this. You can do this your way. It’s your battle to fight. But let me be your army. Let me fight for you the best way I know how.”

A tear of his own slid down his cheek but he didn’t move his hand to wipe it away. They sat in silence, his hand in hers. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Sherri spoke. “Okay.”

* * *

She was definitely not having much luck when it came to boats. First the canoe, and now the panga. When she got back to land, she was totally not going to be in a hurry to get back in a boat anytime soon, that was for sure.

If she got back.

Heather looked around for what had to be the dozenth time but still there was nothing she recognized. All she could see was mangroves. Lots and lots of mangroves. And that was it. There was a current Heather didn’t expect dragging her through the trees. Was she going farther into the maze or out to sea? She had no idea but what she did know for sure was that if she didn’t get the boat started soon, she was only going to get more and more lost.

She should have put an anchor down and she would have too, if there’d been one. Just like she would have started paddling if she’d had a paddle. Heather was going to have to have a talk with Ash about outfitting the boat properly when she got back.

If she got back.

She tried the boat again, pushing the negative thoughts out of her mind. She couldn’t dwell on what could happen. It wouldn’t get her anywhere and she’d never been one for looking at the negative side of things. But it was certainly very, very hard not to at that moment. All she wanted to do was sit in the floor of the boat and cry.

A tear slid down her cheek at the same time that a swell of panic started to rise inside her gut. No. She couldn’t let bad thoughts take over. She couldn’t give them space to fester and grow. What she needed to do was figure out the boat.

“Okay, Heather.” She spoke to herself calmly, forcing the words to come out strong and assured. Even though that was the exact opposite of what she was feeling inside. “Pull it together. You’ve got this.”

She smoothed her hair back and took a deep breath before she turned to face the engine.

“Let’s start from the beginning.” Heather sat down, adjusted the throttle to choke and pulled the cord. Nothing. “Okay,” she said to herself. “Try it again. Take it slow and start from the top.” She took her own advice and this time went over every detail, pretending Ash was there talking to her. Still, nothing.

“Stupid boat!”

The anger and frustration welled up and this time, she didn’t even try to stop it. Heather dropped to the bottom of the boat and let the emotion wash over her. Tears fell hard, hot and fast down her face, over her hands and onto her bare legs. And she let them. She let herself cry hot tears that she’d been holding in for months. Maybe even years.

It was a messy cry. A hard, hot cry.

It was exactly what she needed.

She cried for herself. The years lost, the missed opportunities, the love she’d never had. She cried for Ash and everything he’d confessed to her. She cried for his wife and unborn child and his heart that might not ever heal again. She cried for them and the chance they might not ever have.

Heather didn’t move from the bottom of the boat until she’d exhausted every last hot, salty tear. And not even then did she move. She sat and she waited. For what, she didn’t know. But she let it all out and when she was finally completely wrung out, she sat a little longer.

The boat had probably floated halfway to Costa Rica by now but if she just didn’t open her eyes to see, she’d never know. And sometimes, ignorance was bliss.

Just like it had been with her ex-husband’s affair. Everyone at Shelter Bay thought she’d been caught off guard—the jilted wife. Not true. Not at all. She’d known about Joe and Maria from the start. Heck, she’d known before they did. She wasn’t stupid. She saw the way they’d looked at each other that first day when Maria had walked in, asking for a job. If Heather hadn’t already been so jaded on love and the idea of it all, she might have likened that first meeting to something in one of those cheesy romantic comedy movies she used to like to watch. The ones where the heroine was always just a little bit unsuspecting and the hero was in need of a life shake-up and together they found who they were and what love was all about.

That was exactly what Joe and Maria had been like. Just like they might have if their lives had actually been in a movie, they probably tried to fight their attraction at first. After all, Joe was married and even if it was already a dead marriage, it was still a marriage. But if they had tried to fight it, it hadn’t lasted long before they finally gave in to their attraction.

And then came the baby.

She hadn’t seen that coming. Not in a million years. But when Heather had first noticed Maria’s stomach start to swell and her uniform started to get a little tight, she could have laughed with the ridiculousness of it all. But still, Joe didn’t come to her and confess. It was as if they were all living in some kind of delusional dream world where, if they just ignored what was playing out in front of them, it wasn’t really happening. And Heather was just as bad. She could have said something. Confronted them. Yelled and screamed and forced Joe to make a choice. She could have done all of that.

But she didn’t.

Because then there’d be no turning back. And when you didn’t know where you were going or what you wanted, it was sometimes easier to keep doing what you were doing and pretend that there was nothing wrong.

But there was.

And when finally Maria went into labor in the middle of the marina restaurant, Joe made his choice right there on the spot, choosing his girlfriend and the child they were about to bring into the world.

Heather should have been mad or humiliated. But all she felt was relief at being given an out.

The only problem with her relationship falling apart was she could no longer keep her head in the sand about what she wanted and what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

Ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away.

Just like sitting in the bottom of the boat and crying about it.

Heather sat up, wiped her eyes and smoothed her hair back, fixing her ponytail. “Okay, Heather. You’re better than this.” She wasn’t one for talking to herself, but sometimes a girl just needed a pep talk and if there wasn’t anyone else to do it, she’d just have to do it for herself. “Pull yourself together. It’s not like you haven’t been in tough spots before.”

She got up and moved to the back of the boat. With her hands on her hips, she stared down the engine. “I can do this.” She walked herself through all the steps again, this time letting Ash’s voice guide her.

The fuel hose gets loose sometimes, he’d said.

There was no way it could be that simple, but it was the one thing she hadn’t checked. Heather followed the gas line to where it disappeared under the plywood bench where the gas tank was kept. She lifted the seat board to gain access and there, lying in a small puddle of what she assumed to be gasoline, was the end of the fuel line.

“Oh my God.” The words came out as a half laugh, half cry and she shoved the line back on to the fitting, making sure it was secure. “You have to be kidding me. If this works…” She refused to jinx herself by saying anymore. Heather quickly put the seat board back in place and went back to the engine. She stared it down one more time and followed all the instructions to start it.

This time, with a choke followed by a roar, the engine sputtered to life.

If she hadn’t already spent all her tears, Heather might have collapsed onto the floor one more time. But she’d wasted enough time. And one thing she knew now: she was done wasting time on things she couldn’t change.

It was time to look forward and go after what she wanted. And no matter what Ash said about not letting anyone get too close again, one thing was for sure…he didn’t have a choice in it.

She was in love with Ash. And she didn’t know entirely what that was going to look like yet, but she did know one thing—she was going to tell him. Because no matter what happened, Heather was tired of sitting back and letting life happen to her. She was taking control.