by Carian Cole
“You’re not doing anything wrong. The situation just sucks. Let’s just call it like it is. We’re in a fucked-up place.”
“Yeah…we are.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re going to stay in this place. You are Ember. I know you don’t feel like you are. But look what happened tonight—a memory came back. That’s a sign, babe.”
“It was just a song. I don’t remember anything more—”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s a start. And it’s so much more than you know, Em. I can’t say anymore because your brain has to do it on its own, but please just trust me. Your memories are there.”
She sniffles. “Do you think so?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “Please don’t avoid me. If you say or do something that hurts me, I’ll deal with it. It’s better than not having you in my life.”
“Is it? I don’t want to hurt anybody. Katherine. Kenzi. Especially you. You’ve been so nice to me. You’re a sweet guy, and you don’t deserve this.”
I swear if she tells me to let go, I’m going to lose my shit. I put up with hearing it from everyone else, but I can’t take it coming from her.
“Sometimes things have to hurt before they get better,” I say. “This isn’t fun for you, either. I’m sure some of the things I say hurt you, even though I don’t want them to.”
“It’s not the same. I can feel that you love me. And I just…”
She doesn’t have to finish the sentence. My heart heard it. She just doesn’t love me.
Never did I think I’d be on the wrong side of unrequited love.
I cough into my hand and muster my voice back. “We’ll work through it together. You made my fucking night tonight. You finally called me. We shared a memory together. We’re talking about real stuff. It’s all good.”
“Okay,” she sighs. “I wish I didn’t feel so…out of place all the time. I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t know what I should be doing or feeling or saying.”
“Just do whatever you want. Say what you want, let yourself feel what you want. That’s all that matters—that you find you. But promise me you won’t avoid me anymore. How you gonna fall in love with me all over again if you stay away from me?”
“Is that what you want?”
“For you to fall in love with me? Hell yeah. That’s all I fuckin’ want.”
Her shy, nervous laughter floats through the phone. “You don’t hold back, do you?”
“Nope.”
“But…you’d have to fall in love with me too. Not the me I used to be…because she might be gone. The me I am now and the me I might be someday. You might not even like that me.”
“You’re right,” I admit as I shove a gummy bear in my mouth. “This is a two-way street we’re both lost on. I guess it’s kinda like we just met.”
“That’s how it feels for me, and I think I need you to start there too. Can you do that? Pretend we’re new?”
“For you? Of course I will.”
That was my first lie.
To her and to myself.
Chapter Eighteen
I’m getting better.
Everyone keeps telling me I am—the doctors, therapists, nurses, Kenzi, and Asher’s mom, Aria. They’ve all been saying it for weeks. In fact, the doctor has used the words “amazing” and “remarkable” several times.
Most days I do feel better. I wouldn’t say I feel amazing or remarkable, but I feel like I’m making progress.
I’m strong enough to walk with a walker now, and I can take a shower using the stool. I can dress myself if there aren’t lots of buttons, because my shaky fingers still don’t do well with those. If I’m really patient, I can put makeup on, as long as I don’t attempt the winged eyeliner look again. That was scary.
My speech has improved, and now the words I say actually match what I’m thinking in my head. Most of the time, anyway.
I’m learning how to do math and tell time again, although the doctor says I have dyslexia, which I didn’t have before.
The random bouts of fear, depression, confusion, and exhaustion are slowly diminishing. I still feel displaced, though. Like I jumped out of a plane, and my parachute not only didn’t work in time, but transported me to an unknown place.
The nurses call me Miracle Girl.
Years ago, there was a Miracle Man who wound up in this same facility after he put a gun to his own head and blew half his brains out. Rumor has it, he made a full recovery.
“If he can, you can,” the nurses say.
His name? Redwood.
“Try to keep your hand still.” Kenzi leans over the small table between us, brushing pink polish onto my nails.
“I am.”
“Do your fingers shake all the time?”
“Not all the time, but most of the time.”
“What does the doctor say?”
I shrug and focus on trying to keep my fingers from shaking. I don’t want to mess up her effort and get polish all over my fingertips. “Not much. It might get better… It might not.”
“Your nails aren’t as brittle as they were a few weeks ago. That’s good.” She smiles up at me. “Your body is getting healthier.”
Kenzi is so much like Asher—always smiling, kind, and thoughtful. She visits several times per week, toting magazines, snacks, and clothes for me.
I don’t let her call me Mom. We keep things light. The mommy and the little girl are gone, and now we’re just friends.
“There.” She puts the tiny brush in its glass bottle. “They have to dry, so don’t touch anything.”
“Thank you.” The pink shade she chose is the color of bubble gum, and I like how my fingertips look all shiny now. “I feel pretty.”
“You are pretty.” She smiles. “In fact, you look amazing. I was just telling Dad on the phone last night how incredible you look.”
“Oh.”
“He’s looking forward to seeing you next week.” She pulls a laptop out of her bag.
“Next week?”
“Mm-hm. He’s coming home from the tour next week.”
Next week isn’t that far off, according to the calendar on my wall. Just a few numbered squares away. Asher kept his word by playing the music for me every night, and I’ve enjoyed talking to him on the phone, learning more about him. Every time he sends me a random text message, it puts a big smile on my face and makes my insides feel all tumbly. The whole marriage thing is scary, though. Being someone’s wife is a big deal. It’s not just a word. It has meaning and certain expectations. Commitment. Love. Intimacy.
Kenzi puts her laptop on the table in front of us. “I had an idea…and you can say no if you don’t want to. A friend of mine recorded Dad at the concert last night, and he sent it to me. We can watch it together if you want. I thought maybe you’d be curious to see him on stage.”
“Oh.” I wiggle my fingers and watch the light glint off the polish. “I guess that might be fun.”
After Kenzi clicks a few things, the small screen is filled with a smoky stage scene with fans screaming and waving their hands in the air in front of the person filming the video. The band is in the middle of playing a fast, hard rock song, and when it ends, they transition to a new song. During the first chorus, Asher walks onto the stage seemingly out of thin air and joins in with the other singer. I jump in my seat when the crowd’s screams erupt from the laptop speakers.
The first singer points to Asher. “Ladies and gentlemen…Asher Valentine!”
The fans go completely nuts, jumping up and down and screaming his name as Asher continues to sing. The huge smile on his face says it all—he puts his heart and soul into everything—and he loves it.
The depth and power of his voice on stage is much different than his voice when he sings over the phone for me. Warm shivers cascade through my body as I watch him move across the stage, his long hair blowing wildly around his face as he belts out notes that go from incredibly high to low with barely a breath in between. A thin, white T-shirt
wraps around his shoulders and torso, hugging his body, accentuating muscular arms and shoulders I haven’t noticed in this way before.
My thighs tingle. My mouth feels dry.
The skeleton key necklace I’ve never seen him without bounces against his chest as he prowls across the stage.
I’m unexpectedly drawn to him. That tattooed hand wrapped around the mic is the same that caresses my cheek. That muscular arm fist pumping in the air to the screams of the fans is the same that has gently wrapped around me.
He’s…incredible.
How is this sexy, confident rock star singing lyrics about lust, madness, fast cars, and stilettos while thousands of people reach to touch him as he saunters along the edge of the stage the same sweet man who sits on my bed—soft-spoken, quiet, and vulnerable?
Kenzi grins playfully. “He’s something, huh?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah…the crowd is crazy about him.”
“Everyone’s crazy about him. His musical talent is endless, and he’s been voted the sexiest man in rock five years in a row.”
Wow.
Only I could be married to one of earth’s sexiest men and not even remember him.
I tear my eyes from the screen to look at her. “R-Really?”
“Yeah. Not bad considering he’s almost thirty-seven.”
Asher is literally owning the stage, completely overshadowing the other band members. I don’t have to be there in person to feel it—there’s an energy coming off him that’s almost touchable.
When the video ends, I want to watch it again, but I’m too embarrassed to ask Kenzi to replay it for me.
“I have a concert video of you guys singing together years ago. Do you want to see it?”
Do I want to see Ember doing what she used to do?
I’ll either like it, hate it, have a meltdown over it, or possibly gain a memory from it.
“Don’t be afraid to push your comfort zones,” my therapist says to me during every session.
“Alright,” I reply. “Let’s watch that one too.”
When she plays that video, the stage looks mostly the same to me—longhaired guys wearing ripped jeans and leather, holding guitars, and a massive drum set up in the back.
“You weren’t part of Dad’s band anymore when this video was taken, but you used to sometimes sing your old songs together.” She points to the screen. “Those are Dad’s brothers, Storm, Mikah, and Talon. And that’s you. This is one of my favorite songs.”
Asher is sitting on a stool in front of the microphone with a guitar, and Ember is standing next to him—tall on black-heeled boots and beautiful blonde hair flowing down to her waist. The song they sing together is slow and soft, and they’re perfectly in sync, their voices weaving in and out together. I’m not even listening to the words. My focus is rooted on them and how they’re so lost in each other as they sing with haunting, deep emotion. It gives me chills.
The chemistry between them is completely undeniable—desperate and aching—as if they’re the only two people on the stage, and the thousands of people in the arena are voyeurs—witnessing a private moment that they shouldn’t see but can’t look away from.
At the end of the song, Asher wraps his arm around her slim waist and pulls her into him for a kiss that could easily rival all the wedding vow kisses I’ve seen on TV. The crowd goes wild in response.
On the other side of the small screen, my chest and stomach twinge and burn with…jealousy?
How can I compete with all this? Ember is gorgeous and sexy and talented. She’s had a lasso around Asher’s heart for years, and he’s obviously madly in love with her.
I don’t fit into this scenario at all.
They walk off stage together holding hands, and I watch her smile up at him and kiss his cheek before they disappear off screen.
“What did you think? Pretty cool, right?” Kenzi says. “You were a total babe, and your voice was incredible. Together, you guys were amazing.”
I push the cover of the laptop down so I don’t have to see anymore.
Watching the videos brought out new emotions I haven’t experienced yet, and now I feel very unsettled about everything.
Asher sings the special song to me every night. Not her.
I’m not so sure I want Ember to come back. If she does, will I forget who I am now? Does the new me go away? Will Asher stop falling in love with the new me?
I don’t want her to take him away.
Chapter Nineteen
“Tell me what you’re worried about.”
Everything.
“It’s hard to explain.” I turn away from the only window in my sitting room and lean back against the sill.
I’m startled to see he’s tied his hair back while I was looking out at the trees. I’ve never seen it this way before, but his long mane has obviously been hiding perfectly angled cheek and jaw bones. Now he looks more handsome, even with the black artwork that spiders up the side of his neck and behind his ear.
“I feel weird,” I reply. “Going to that house.”
“It’s your home.”
“The house should be where I feel comfortable, though, right?”
“Of course. It’s not just a house, home is where people feel safe and loved.”
“Do you feel safe and loved there?”
He nods. “Yeah. And lonely sometimes. I never expected to live there by myself.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not like you had a choice.”
I have a choice now, though. At least, I think I should. I’m not sure I want to go live in a big house with him surrounded by things I can’t remember. It feels like it’s going to be very overwhelming, despite my therapist telling me it will be good for me.
“I know…but why can’t I live here? I like my apartment. I feel safe and loved here. People can keep coming here to visit me. You can still take me out on dates like you talked about. I can leave for a few hours and then come back.”
His chest moves slightly with what I’m sure would be a sigh if he didn’t do such a good job of controlling himself.
“This is a hospital facility, though, not your home. All your doctors agree you’re ready to leave and continue your therapy as an outpatient. Your recovery has been incredible. Most people who’ve gone through anything remotely similar would be here twice as long—probably even forever. You still have a long way to go, but you don’t need to stay here.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Last week when we all talked about this with your doctors, you were looking forward to going home. You said you were ready, and you seemed excited about it.”
I did. But now, it all feels overwhelming.
“Em, I think you feel safe here. That’s totally natural and understandable. Once you get out of here, you’ll love it. Kenzi lives right across the street. I’ll be home almost all the time. The nurse we hired has committed to staying with us for as long as you need her. She’s more than just a nurse. She’s going to help you transition to living in your own house. I had all new equipment added to our home gym that your physical therapist recommended.” He pauses, but I don’t say anything. “I’m doing everything I can to make sure you’re happy, safe, and comfortable.”
There’s no denying this guy moves heaven and earth for me. I don’t want to seem ungrateful and difficult, and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I just don’t know if I’m ready to fully step into the Wonderful World of Ember. What if I hate the house and everything in it? Asher showed me photos, and it looked beautiful, but maybe it’s really not. What if I feel uncomfortable there? I don’t know what it’s like to live with a man.
“I appreciate everything you’re doing for me. A lot. Maybe I could live with Katherine for a while first?”
“We talked about that, and it’s not a good idea. She’s running a busy bed and breakfast and doesn’t have a lot of free time. You’d have to live there with her and her guests—a bunch of strangers. There’s no space
to put gym equipment in her inn. Plus, it’s two and a half hours away. It’s too far away from your doctors, and it’ll be a lot harder for me and Kenzi to come visit you.”
“Then maybe I could get an apartment near your house for a few months?”
His head jerks as if I’ve slapped him across the face.
“Absolutely not. You’re still too weak to be alone all day. The nurse won’t live with you alone in an apartment, there has to be someone else there to help and make decisions. You could fall and get hurt, or God Forbid, hit your head. You can’t even drive yet. What if you have another seizure?”
“That only happened once,” I protest. It’s not like I’m falling on my face every day. I had one short seizure when he was on tour.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but it’s not safe for you to live in an apartment without a real guardian. Your doctors would never agree to it and would probably want me to get my own head examined if I agreed to it. You still have a ton of recovery to go through. You’re not ready to be making decisions on your own yet. I don’t want to be the bad guy here, but I have to do what’s best for you.”
I chew my bottom lip as he lists off all these reasons, and when he’s done, he steps closer to me. I stare at his big, black boots until he touches my chin and gently coaxes me to look at his face.
“Em…you need to come home.” His soft voice is full of emotion, his eyes equally so. “If we want any chance of putting our life back together, and you getting your memory back, then that’s the best place for you to be.”
I swallow hard and nod as his finger moves slowly across my chin in a gentle caress.
Suddenly, I feel like I can’t breathe.
“You’ll have your own room and lots of privacy. I don’t want you to feel like I’m holding you captive. The nurse is nice, and I think you’ll like her a lot. We’ll take everything slow. I promise.”
I shift my gaze from his eyes to my suitcases waiting by the door.
“I won’t force you to come home. If you’re not ready, we’ll call your doctors right now and arrange for you to stay here longer.”
