by Carian Cole
He listens intently and nods. “I think that’s important. For you to feel like you’re home, with your family, happy with your life and yourself.”
“I know the face changes bother you a little. But I felt like I had to do that for me. It’s hard to explain how scary it is to look in a mirror and not see yourself. Since I had the surgery, I don’t feel that way anymore.”
He shakes his head, and his hair falls into his face. Pushing it away, he meets my eyes. His are full of empathy. Not anger or betrayal like I saw there last night. “I never even thought about that part of it. Looking in mirrors and seeing photos. Not feeling like it’s you.”
I touch my cheeks. “This is how I see myself, in my head, if that makes sense.”
He nods and leans over to kiss my cheek. “It does, baby. And you’re beautiful. I’m sorry I freaked out. It’s not because I don’t love how you look. I really do. It was just a surprise.”
“I know, and I’m sorry for that.”
He takes a deep breath and sips his coffee. “You went to a good surgeon, right? I mean, they obviously did an amazing job, but I worry…after what you’ve been through.”
“Yes. I actually wanted to talk to you about all that.” I stall by smearing a small glob of butter on my toast with a knife, and he raises an eyebrow as he waits for me to continue. “Do you remember the guy who gave me CPR?”
He blinks at me, freezing in place, holding his spoon of yogurt halfway between the bowl and his mouth. “Redwood?”
“Yes.”
He puts the spoon and bowl back on the tray. “Of course I remember him. Why?”
“He came to see me when I was still in the hospital.”
“I know.”
I cock my head at him in surprise. “How did you know?”
“He told me. Sometimes we talk.”
“Oh.” I swallow over the lump of nervousness in my throat. Redwood never told me he was still in touch with Asher. “I didn’t know that.”
“Has he contacted you again?”
“No, I contacted him.”
A muscle in his cheek twitches. He glances down for a moment, then returns his gaze to my face. “Can I ask why?”
I can’t read his facial expression or the tone of his voice at all, which is rare. I’m unsure if it’s a bit of jealousy I’m detecting, or something else.
“I’m not really sure, to be totally honest. He gave me his contact information at the hospital and told me to call him if I ever needed anything. I found out while I was in rehab that he has a TBI, like me. I think I felt like he would understand what I was feeling and going through.”
“You didn’t think I could help you? And understand how you feel?” The scrunch of his brows and the darkening of his eyes tell me he’s hurt that he can’t be everything.
He shouldn’t have to be. No matter how much a person loves someone, they cannot bear that much burden.
“I think you’re understanding of how I feel, but I don’t think you really understand what it feels like to have a brain injury. There’s a difference.”
He nods, slowly resolving that no, he cannot be all the things. “You’re right.”
“So I called him to talk about how I was feeling. How I feel like an imposter, living someone else’s life. Not comfortable with my face and my body. I told him how I was considering some alterations.”
“Didn’t he try to talk you out of it? It’s a major decision to make.”
I shake my head. “No, he was very supportive of it. He told me about the plastic surgeon who did his reconstructive surgery. She’s a very well-known and respected surgeon. Sarah checked her out.”
“So Sarah knew about all this too?”
Oh, no. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned Sarah. I don’t want her to get in any trouble. She’s been with us much longer than expected because I love having her here, and she wants to stay on as long as we want her to. I’d hate for her to be let go because of me.
“Yes, but please don’t say anything or be mad at her. I asked her to please not tell you. I know that was wrong, but like I said, I really wanted to do this on my own.”
He blows out a breath, his unease with all of this becoming very clear.
“I’m sorry, Ash. I’m being totally honest with you now because it’s been bothering me. I made a mistake keeping all this from you. At the time, it didn’t seem wrong, but now I realize it was.”
He squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you’re telling me. Is there anything else?”
“Redwood drove me to the appointments and then back home. There were two appointments. Sarah knew he was driving me.”
“Wait—he’s been to our house?”
“Not inside,” I say quickly. “Just in the driveway.”
He rubs his hand across his face, tugging on his beard. “I’m not liking this, Em. There’s a lot you don’t know about him. Has he been contacting you?”
“He sent me a few text messages, and we did one video chat a few weeks ago. He was just checking up on me. He told me before that, that he’d never contact me, and if I wanted to talk to him, I’d have to call or text him. But he did video chat me for a few minutes on his own. I haven’t talked to him since.”
“Was he acting weird?”
I shrug casually. “He’s always kinda weird. He’s an eccentric guy.”
“Was he scaring you? Threatening you in any way?”
“No.” I frown at him. “Nothing like that at all. Why would he? He saved my life. He’s a friend. Sort of.” I suppose I could consider Redwood a friend of sorts. He was there for me when I needed someone, and that means a lot. “He also sent me a customized meal plan and workouts I can do from home. To help me gain weight and curves like I wanted. It worked too.”
Asher stares at me like I’m speaking another language. “Redwood sent you fitness advice?” he asks incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. Apparently he’s some kind of personal trainer. He knows a lot about fitness.”
“I don’t fuckin’ believe this,” he mumbles with a half laugh.
“Why are you acting so weird about it? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you—”
“That’s not it, Em. You don’t need my permission to talk to people. You’re an adult. You can talk to whoever you want. It’s him that’s the problem.”
“He saved my life, though.”
He softens his gaze and gives me a sort-of ironic smile. “I know he did, baby. And I’m very grateful that he did that. But I really want you to stay away from him, okay?”
Unease creeps up my spine. “But why?”
“He’s a psychopath. I’d rather not get into the details.”
I roll my eyes, assuming he’s just being overly dramatic. “Asher, come on. I admit he’s a little strange, but I think it’s because of his brain injury. He’s harmless.”
“Trust me. He’s anything but harmless. Do you know he put a pistol in his mouth and tried to blow his own head off?”
I shift uneasily on the bed, not wanting that grisly image in my head. “Yes, I heard he did that. But he must’ve been very depressed to do that…”
He shakes his head. “No. He wasn’t depressed.”
Why on earth would someone try to kill themselves unless they are deeply depressed? Nothing else would make any sense at all.
Asher takes both my hands in his and forces me to look at him. “Ember, please, just trust me on this, okay? I’ve been talking to Redwood for years—ever since the day of your accident. He’s not a good person. In fact, he’s dangerous. He never should’ve gotten involved with you, and he knows it. I think it’s some kind of twisted game to him. Promise me you’ll stay away from him. And tell me if he tries to get in contact with you.”
Asher’s hands are literally clammy and shaking in mine, and it’s got me terrified. For him to react this way about someone, it has to be serious. He’s not the type to be afraid of other men.
“Okay.” I nod earnestly. “I promise. But if he’s th
at bad, why have you been talking to him?”
“I tried to show him how grateful I was for what he did. I offered him anything he wanted. All he wanted in return was for me to listen to him talk.”
Talk? What kind of odd request is that?
“Why? Talk about what?”
“Don’t ask. Let’s just drop this, okay? I don’t want to talk about him in our bed, in our house. Ever.” He strokes my cheek softly. “You’re an angel. You’re so beautiful and sweet. I don’t ever want anyone, or anything, to hurt you.” The emotion in his voice reaches deep into me and makes my heart swell. Whatever he’s thinking, whatever it is he’s worried about, it’s real.
“I’m fine,” I reassure him, moving my mouth to kiss his hand.
“Promise me we’ll be honest with each other from now on. No more secrets. You can talk to me about anything, Em. I’ll always listen and do whatever I can to understand and be here for you. And if you really think I can’t, you can talk to Katherine, Kenzi, Tor, my mother, Gram… So many people care about you.”
He’s right. I could’ve reached out to any of those people. I don’t know why I turned to Redwood, other than I thought he would understand me the most, without judgement, and without trying to change my mind.
“Since we’re talking about honesty,” I say with a knowing smile to lighten the mood. “You weren’t exactly honest with me about something. Like the dog.” I glance over at Teddy snoozing on the floor.
Pulling back from me a bit, Asher narrows his eyes quizzically. “What about the dog?”
“That’s not Teddy,” I say. “And you let me believe he is.”
His shoulders fall. “That’s a little different. I didn’t know you’d think he was actually your Teddy. You were so happy to see him, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you it wasn’t him and that he’d died years ago. It would’ve broken your heart. You remembered something from your past, even though you didn’t realize it. I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I’d never do that. I was trying to give you something to make you happy.”
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them in a hug. “I know,” I admit. “I’m just trying to make a point.”
“Did you remember more about Teddy?” he asks excitedly.
“Yes. I found the memorial necklace in my jewelry boxes. With his ashes…and it all just came rushing back to me.”
He puts his arm around me and leans his head against mine. “Oh, Em. I’m sorry. You loved that dog so much. I wish I had been here with you when you remembered.”
I wipe away tears that are starting to pool in my eyes. As much as I love the dog at the side of our bed, now that I remember the real Teddy, his death feels raw to me. “It’s okay. I love new Teddy, and I’m not mad at you. I’m glad you brought him to me and let me just remember him on my own. I think that’s how my memories are going to work. I can’t force them. They’re just going to come when they want to.”
“Did you remember anything else?” His eyes shine with hope, and I wish I could throw my arms around him and tell him I remember everything about him. I can only imagine what that moment might feel like, for both of us. The happiness and relief we’d both feel. I don’t think anything in the world could make Asher happier than me remembering our life together.
I shake my head, noticing the slight shade of disappointment in his eyes, and it breaks my heart. “No, just the dog.”
“That’s still great. I really think all your memories will slowly come back. Just like you said.”
“I hope so.” Every time I convince myself the memories don’t matter, that I’m going to be fine moving forward without remembering, I only believe it for a while. The void always creeps up on me, putting a damper on my happiness.
Will that ever go away?
Asher lifts my chin and kisses my lips. “Let’s not worry about that. All I want is for us to be happy. I want us to have the future we always wished for and talked about. Nothing can take that away from us. I hope someday all your memories come back, but if they never do, we’ll just keep making new ones.”
I smile, hoping he’s right about that.
As we clean up our breakfast tray and talk about how we want to spend the rest of the day, my thoughts keep wandering back to the dream and what Asher just said about the future.
I’ve been so focused on not being able to remember the past, it never occurred to me that I’ve also forgotten what I wanted in my future.
I can’t help wondering, what did past Ember and Asher dream about for their future? And more importantly, what do I want for my future?
Chapter Fifty-Three
Dear Diary,
Today’s our one-year wedding anniversary. The past year has totally flown by, but it’s been the best year. Instead of giving each other gifts, we decided to do a special project together. Asher made a little box he called the memory box, and we put a bunch of special things in it that are reminders of our relationship and our life so far, and we added some things that are symbolic of what we want for our future. Then we buried it together. In fifteen years, we’re going to go and dig it up, reminisce about our past, and see if our future dreams came true. I think it’s the coolest idea! I love how thoughtful and romantic he always is.
Oh wow, as I was writing this, he came into the bedroom with a surprise gift for me. It’s a charm bracelet with little charms he picked out! A heart, a dog, a key, a journal, a guitar, a flame, a letter A, a letter E, and a microphone. I love it!
I must have been nineteen when I wrote this entry, which means when the fifteen-year mark hit, I was in the coma. I wonder if Asher went and dug the memory box up himself?
No. He definitely wouldn’t. It would destroy him with grief to do that alone.
“You ready for your surprise?”
Years later, and he’s still surprising me with romantic things.
I smile at him standing in the archway of the living room. He’s holding my new winter coat with the faux fur trim in one hand and my new suede snow boots in the other.
“I thought you got lost out there,” I tease.
He insisted I stay in the house and pretend I didn’t hear all the banging noises going on while he’s been outside for almost three hours.
“The timing couldn’t be more perfect.” He crosses the room to hand me the jacket and boots. “It just started to snow.”
Excited, I pull the jacket and boots on over my jeans and sweater. Taking my hand, he leads me out the front door, instructing me to keep my eyes closed until he tells me to open them. Clinging to his hand, I walk carefully with my eyes clamped shut to what I think is the sidewalk in front of our house.
“Okay. You can open your eyes now.”
I’m smiling before I even open my eyes, but when I finally see what he’s been doing for the past few hours, a huge smile spreads across my face.
“Oh my God! Asher, it’s amazing!” I clap my hands. He’s outlined our entire house—including the windows, front door, and roof with tiny Christmas lights. He didn’t stop there, though. A lighted, life-size Santa Claus, sleigh, and reindeer are on the roof, looking as if they’re ready to take flight toward a star suspended several feet over the roof.
Lit red-and-white candy canes line the driveway and the walkway, and ten huge nutcracker statues span the front of the house. A family of glowing snowmen, a few little elves, and a decorated tree are on the front lawn. The front door is covered in silver wrapping paper and a big red bow, with a spotlight shining on it.
It’s my first Christmas, and my very first snow is lightly falling on us. All month we’ve been watching holiday cartoons and movies, and I haven’t been able to get enough of all things Christmas.
Excited, I throw my arms around him and plant a big kiss on his lips. “I love it. It’s all so beautiful! It’s better than the movies!”
“You like it?” He beams almost as bright as all the lights.
“It’s perfect.” I hug him tighter. “Thank you so much for doing thi
s for me.”
“I’m not done yet, baby.”
Tor’s voice suddenly interrupts us. “Seriously?” he says. “I’m gonna have to wear sunglasses in my own house to shield my eyes from this glaring atrocity you’ve created.”
He’s walking down his driveway toward us, wearing fuzzy Cookie Monster slippers.
“You’re gonna be that neighbor?” Asher jokes back.
“How can I be when you already are?” Standing next to us, he stares up at our glowing house, squinting. “Good thing you’re rich. Your electric bill is gonna be crazy.”
“It’s worth it,” Asher says. “You better step up your game, pal. It’s Tia’s first Christmas, and her grandparents are already beating you at being cool.”
Tor slaps Asher’s back. “We’re letting you ‘cuz you’re old.”
Laughing, Asher says, “We’re going inside. We’ll see you guys tomorrow night at Gram’s?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Asher’s entire family will be at his Gram’s tomorrow night for Christmas Eve dinner, which apparently I attended for years before the accident. I’m excited about what, to me, will be my first real family holiday party.
Asher makes us hot cocoa with marshmallows and peppermint schnapps, and we sit on the floor in front of the fireplace to warm up, watching the flames lick at the wood.
I actually moan in ecstasy after my first sip. “Wow, that’s good!”
“Hey, I’m getting a little jealous.” He leans in to nuzzle his lips against my neck.
His beard tickling my skin makes me giggle. I turn my face to meet his mouth and linger there, staring into his eyes. “It’s really good,” I breathe.
“It tastes even better on your lips.” My stomach burns and quivers, not from the drink, but in response to the deep sensuality dripping in his voice.
Taking the mug from his hand, I put it and mine off to the side before wrapping my arms around his wide shoulders.
“The lights you put up are so pretty.” I rub the tip of my nose against his, and dip down to press my lips to his. “Thank you for making my first Christmas special for me.”
