Asher (Ashes & Embers 6)

Time is supposed to heal all wounds—of the heart, of the body, of the mind and soul.

But fuck, I feel like the rest of the world is moving forward, and we’re stuck waiting for time to get back to us.

I turn away from the huge hourglass when I hear Ember coming down the stairs, and I meet her at the last step with her light leather jacket draped over my arm in case she wants it. Tonight, her blonde hair is pin-straight, falling over her shoulders like a shiny curtain.

“You ready for our first family dinner?” I ask.

Her lips curve into an uncertain smile. “I think so.”

Ember has never been to Kenzi and Tor’s house, and she hasn’t seen the baby since they brought Tia over to our house after Kenzi was discharged from the hospital.

“Don’t be nervous. We’re gonna have fun.”

“What if Kenzi doesn’t want me around the baby after what happened?”

“Kenzi isn’t like that. Everyone understands, and we all love you. Tor and Kenzi want you to be in Tia’s life. You don’t have to worry about it at all.”

“What if it happens again? I’m so embarrassed.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing,” I answer softly. “You had a flashback when you held Tia. That’s all. You didn’t kidnap the baby, Em. You were only holding her.”

None of us could’ve known that placing a baby in Ember’s arms would bring on some kind of overwhelming sudden memory in her mind. She cried and held on to Tia, shaking uncontrollably and sobbing that the baby was hers. She cowered against the wall, begging us not to take her baby.

It was one of the most heartbreaking scenes I’ve ever witnessed, but I have a strong suspicion Ember was having memories of herself as a pregnant teen when her parents wanted her to give our baby up. Ember had nightmares all throughout her pregnancy of people taking her baby from her. She woke up crying almost every night. Even after Kenzi was born, Ember lived in fear that someone was going to come and take her away.

“Maybe it’s too soon… Maybe we should go next week?” Her eyes dart toward the living room, then back toward the stairs. Anywhere but the front door we should be heading for.

“Em.” I touch her cheek, and it brings her focus back to me. Light affection usually grounds her. “You heard the therapist. You have to keep pushing forward, even if you feel scared sometimes. The flashbacks are good—they mean your memories are there. The doctor wants you to start going out and interacting with other people.”

I’m guilty of enabling her to remain in the safe bubble of our house. We’ve put off visits from friends and family who have practically begged to come over. That’s going to have to change soon.

Tilting her head into the curve of my hand, she frowns. “I like being with you and Sarah. And I talk to Kenzi on the phone a lot.”

“It’s important to expand your world.”

She laugh-snorts at my repeat of her doctor’s exact words. “Okay, but I don’t want to hold the baby. I’ll just look at her.”

“That’s totally fine.”

“Will you stay with me the whole time?”

“Like Velcro.”

When she smiles at me like she is right now, it’s like a jumpstart to my heart.

Her cheeks glow with a hint of pink, eyes shimmer and sparkle—it always amazes me how all of it comes from inside with her.

She’s the definition of natural beauty.

Still cupping her cheek, I can’t resist. I lower my face to hers, pausing two inches from her lips, and move my gaze from her mouth to her eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” she whispers.

“You,” I whisper back.

She surprises me by rising up on her tiptoes to touch her lips to mine, and I can’t hold back. Holding her face in my hands, I slowly back her up against the nearest wall. She gasps and tilts her mouth, inviting my tongue to mingle with hers.

I slide my hands over her thin shoulders, skimming them down to her rib cage, then to her waist, pulling her body to fit against mine.

Her breath quickens. So does mine. I don’t want to stop, but I should. Kissing her is a storm of memories, hope, uncertainty, and desire that will only lead to more.

Fuckit.

Kenzi and Tor can wait.

Tightening my grip on her waist, I drag my mouth down to the base of her throat, gently sucking her flesh between my lips. Her hands wrap around my shoulders, pulling me closer. Silky hair falls over my face. Mine and hers. The scent of her perfume trips me up—it’s new and different and not hers.

Not the familiar, favorite scent I’ve kissed and breathed and lost myself in so many times.

It’s a jolt of unexpected new. And I don’t know why it matters, because it shouldn’t, but it does.