Asher (Ashes & Embers 6)

That means one of us will have to go.

“You started reading?”

I jump at the sound of his voice, and the journal falls to the floor with a thud.

He immediately bends over to pick it up. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He hands it back to me.

“I think I dozed off.” More like spaced out when my anxiety spun me into a stupor. “I read the first few entries.”

“Was it that boring, or are you just really tired?”

I smile. “It’s all about how amazing you are, and you’re the cutest boy ever. That’s as far as I got.”

He beams like a peacock. “I think every page is going to be about how amazing I am.”

I laugh at that. “Oh, you think so?”

“I know so. You’ve always been crazy about me, and I’m just as crazy about you. That’s our story.”

Nobody would write pages and pages of how much they love someone. Maybe for a few months, but for years? No way. If so, maybe Ember had something wrong with her brain long before the accident.

“Have you always been like this? So…” I shake my head. “Just so sure?”

“Yes.”

Sighing, I get up to brush my teeth and use the bathroom. When I return, he’s sitting in the chair by the windows, staring out at the moon. As I climb back into bed, I see he’s put the journals on the nightstand for me.

Maybe I’ll read more tomorrow. I’m interested to see if Ember moves past the Amazing Asher phase.

“I’ve always been sure because of you.” He stands and slowly walks toward the bed. “You made me this way. The way you treated me and how you made me feel. Unconditional love breeds confidence.”

“Asher…” I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure of anything, except right now, I want to be the woman who inspired such incredible devotion in a man like Asher Valentine.

“It’s true.”

He lingers next to the bed after I turn off the television and lights, a shadow of emotion and memories.

“I think I can sleep alone tonight.” I don’t know why I said that. I don’t want him to leave, but the sensation of expectation is overwhelming and suffocating, and his nearness amplifies it.

Someday, I won’t hide from these feelings. But today isn’t going to be that day.

“Okay.”

One word. So much sadness.

He kisses my cheek goodnight and leaves, closing the door behind him. An unfamiliar burn festers in my chest as I lie in the dark. The scent of the leather journals comforts me from beside the bed.

I haven’t taken off the butterfly ring or the skeleton key necklace. I don’t think I will. They feel familiar. Like they belong with me.

A faint light shone through the fog today. Scenes from my past seeped through and became memories, and they’re still there, safely nestled back in my mind where they once lived.

The park.

The smiles.

The blue front door.

The old stone steps.

His eyes.

The kiss.

My heart and stomach flutter with the remembrance of that day—the beginning of the dreamy fall into love.

And into him.

But beyond that…there’s still the big gaping hole of nothing.

Ding.

I sit up. Who would be sending me a text at night?

Asher: Hi beautiful :-) What are you doing tomorrow night?

Oh my. Is he texting me from his bedroom down the hall?

Me: I don’t have any plans.

Asher: I’d love to have dinner alone with you. And maybe a movie.

My heartbeat quickens when I realize he’s asking me on our second date.

Me: I’d love to, but I can’t leave the house yet. :(

Technically, I can. I don’t feel ready to be out in public and risk running into anyone who might recognize me from the band days. Plus there’s the wobbliness, the cane, the random mood swings, and the stress of lots of people and new things.

Asher: No worries. Leave that to me. ;-)

Me: Okay. :-)

Asher: How’s 6pm? Meet me on the porch.

Me: That’s perfect.

Asher: See ya then. xo

I switch my phone to the music app and play the soft guitar music Asher recorded for me, and I think for the first time, I might fall asleep smiling.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I haven’t seen Asher all day. We always have breakfast together in the kitchen and we sit on the balcony. He checks on me periodically throughout the day during my rehab exercises—either via text or by popping into whatever room I’m in to say hello.

As I’m getting dressed after my shower, I’m struck with the thought that maybe he forgot about the date we’re supposed to be having tonight. It’s not like him to disappear for an entire day with no contact, so I wonder if he had an unexpected meeting out of town.

I debate texting him to make sure we’re still on, but I’m worried that’ll make me look needy or pushy. If this was to be a date with someone else whom I didn’t live with or wasn’t already married to, I don’t think I’d text. I’d just wait to see if he shows up.