Asher (Ashes & Embers 6)

She turns off her wand and fluffs her wavy hair out before grabbing her purse. “Good enough. You ready to go?”

I nod, and we head downstairs where Toren is lying on the living room floor with Tia, who’s sitting in a little baby seat. Diogee and their cat, Kitten, are sleeping on the couch. Every time I see Tor with the baby, I feel a little tinge of longing, of wanting a baby of my own with Asher someday. A baby I can remember, that is.

“What’s wrong with this picture?” I tease. “Shouldn’t you and the baby be on the furniture?”

“I’m trying to stretch my back out. I tweaked it at the shop yesterday.”

I walk over to the couch and pet Diogee, and he picks his head up to stare into my eyes.

“I missed you,” I whisper to him. “I’m so glad you’re here with them.” His tail wags, and he licks my hand.

“He really likes you,” Tor says.

“He was with me, in the place with the butterflies. Then I sent him here to watch over all of you. He wasn’t supposed to land on the highway, though.” I stroke his soft, white muzzle.

“What place?” Kenzi asks, exchanging a look with Tor. He shrugs, then winces in pain.

I shouldn’t have said anything. “It’s nothing,” I say casually. “I’m babbling. I think I get crazy around dogs. I love them.”

Smiling, Kenzi kneels down next to Tor, and they share a kiss. “Sweetie, are you gonna be okay alone with the baby if we go out? We can take her with us so you can rest.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s not like she can crawl or run around yet. We’re gonna sit here and watch Disney movies until you get home.”

“Okay.” Kenzi turns to smooth Tia’s blonde peach fuzz and kisses her chubby cheek as she stands. “We won’t be gone for too long. I’ll give you a long back massage when I get home.”

He smiles up at her and reaches out to squeeze her ankle affectionately. “That’d be great. You two have fun shopping.”

I like Kenzi and Tor together. As a husband, he seems to be a lot like Asher—totally devoted to Kenzi and the baby, openly affectionate. I’ve never once seen either of them look unhappy or irritated.

“Tell your husband I’ll call him later,” Tor says with a grin. “He texted me earlier wanting to talk about lyrics. I can’t brain words right now.”

“Okay.” I smile, recalling Asher this morning scribbling lyrics he said he woke up thinking about. “I hope you feel better.”

When we get outside and walk toward Kenzi’s Jeep, she turns to me with a sly grin. “You want to drive?”

“Can I?” I ask excitedly. “I promise I won’t crash.”

“I trust you. Just go slow.”

I squeal a little as I climb into the driver’s seat and put my seat belt on. I’ve been wanting to drive again for I don’t know how long, but Asher’s been against me getting behind the wheel because I have slow coordination and reaction time.

“This is a nice car.” I slowly back out of the driveway, hoping Asher isn’t watching from the windows.

“Dad gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday, so it’s a gift from both of you.”

“I really like it.”

“If you’re okay with it, I’m going to talk to Dad later and tell him you’re fine to drive. As long as we get home safely, of course.” She smiles over at me. “You’re doing great, though.”

It feels weird to be driving, but I’m relieved to realize I remember how. I’m not driving with both feet on the gas pedal or turning the windshield wipers on instead of my turn signal.

“I’d love it if you talked to him. I understand why he worries, but I really want to be able to drive like everyone else.” I like the feel of the leather steering wheel in my hands and the wind from the open window lightly blowing through my hair. “I feel really free.”

I wonder if being trapped in a coma for so long, unable to move, has ingrained a sort of claustrophobia in me. I like movement. Being able to get in a car, go to a different place, then come back, without anything restricting me, is very appealing to me.

“You should be able to go out and do things by yourself if you want to, like run to the store,” Kenzi says. “I know Dad’s just worried about you. He treated me the same way. He still does. And Tor’s not much better. I guess I’d rather they cared too much than not at all.”

“I agree. I like that he cares about me so much. It makes me feel special. And he is starting to loosen up a little with the protectiveness and this fear he has of me getting hurt. We finally fooled around for the first time a few nights ago—”