Page 53 of Escape to the Sun

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It tookhim 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.

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