Asher (Ashes & Embers 6)

“I don’t want anything to happen to you. That’s all.”

Dad, you’re a helicopter. Stop hovering. Kenzi’s words from long ago echo through my mind. Is that what I do?

“Things have happened to me,” Ember says. “Horrific things. We can’t stop them.”

I switch to defuse mode, hoping to get us back on track before an all-out fight starts. “Let’s go to Katherine’s like we planned. It’ll be a nice change for us. We’ll both feel better once we get there. It’s peaceful. We’ll sit by the water and talk about everything.”

That’s all I want—this romantic weekend with her. To sit on the beach, watch Teddy run in the sand. To kiss her while the sun sets. I need this time together to show her I can overcome all this crazy shit in my head.

“I want to go by myself. I think we both need some time to think. And I don’t want to sit near water.”

Oh, fuck. My heart sinks like a bag full of lead. My worst nightmares are coming true—she wants time alone. To think about whether she wants to be married to me or if there’s just too much baggage here for her to stay.

Is there?

This could all be too much for her, and there’s not much here to make her stay and weather these storms. She might care about me and like being around me, but let’s face it, coming home with me hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park for her. She doesn’t remember me or us. The foundation we spent years building doesn’t exist in her world. She could walk away and start over with a whole new life, leaving all the ghosts and confusion behind her.

Cold fear rips through me.

I gently grip her shoulders, meeting her eyes. “At least let me drive you. I’ll come back for you whenever you’re ready. Or I’ll leave the car with you, and I’ll rent a car to get home.”

“No.” Her chin quivers in subtle defiance. “I think I need to do this alone. For me.”

The pleading in her eyes convinces me I have to let her go. It’s killing me inside, but I understand why she needs to. She’s right—she’s an adult, my equal. She’s capable of going out in the world without me, just like she used to.

The difference is, back then, she couldn’t wait to come back home to me. Now, I’m not so sure. The unbreakable bond we once shared is gone. I feel like I’m back in her hospital room, not knowing if she’s ever going to come back to me.

We lock eyes for a few moments, trading fears and hopes, regrets and wishes.

“I’ll be okay.” She clutches the handle of her suitcase. “You will be too.”

As much as I don’t want her to go, I can’t deny that the strength and confidence she’s showing is important. It means she’s getting better and stronger emotionally. I can’t stand in the way of her growth and recovery, even if it’s destroying me, shattering the illusion of the picture-perfect life I thought we’d be resuming.

I was so focused on Ember that I never considered how my own fucked-up emotional damage might jam up our wheels of progress.

Silently, I walk her and Teddy down to the garage and load their things up in her car. Before she climbs into the driver’s seat, I pull her into a tight hug, and she hugs me back just as tight, burying her face into my neck. Her warm lips press against the side of my throat and linger there, giving me a small amount of hope.

“I’ll call you when I get there,” she says after she pulls away.

Touching her chin, I tilt her head up for a soft, long kiss, moving my hand to gently caress her cheek.

“I love you, Em.”

She nods, her eyes teary, as she stares up at me. “I know.”

“You never say it back,” I say softly.

“Ash, if you really looked…if you could really see me, I think you’d already know everything you want to hear. You’d know, without a doubt, without a word, that I love you. You’d let yourself feel it. That’s way more important than words.”

She smiles faintly and climbs in the car. As she backs out of the garage, I silently beg her to stop, get out of the car, and run back to me. She doesn’t, though, and all I can do is wave as she pulls down the street and disappears into a tiny red dot.

My chest tightens. The house looms around me, screaming in its emptiness. I’m alone again. There won’t be any teas, board games, or dances on the balcony. No giggles and fuzzy, wagging tails. I won’t be able to watch her as she paints, see the graceful movement of her wrist with the brush. The way she bites her lip as she’s concentrating. I’ll be sleeping alone again, waking up to memories instead of her adorable, sleepy smile.