I take a deep breath and scan her face for any sign of understanding or awareness.

Nothing.

“I love you, Em,” I say softly. “I miss you so damn much. I need you to come back to me. Kenzi needs you. I’ve tried so hard to be a good dad for her. But I think she really still needs her mom. So much has happened...”

I can’t tell her everything that’s happened with our daughter. Not like this.

She continues to stare right through me, toward the window and the bright blue sky.

With a sigh, I stretch out on the bed and carefully put my arm around her. Resting my head next to hers, I follow her vacant gaze.

“Let’s look for cloud formations,” I whisper. “Remember, we used to do that? You always saw the coolest shapes.”

Two clouds float by before I drift off to sleep.

I wake an hour later.

I’m not supposed to be on her bed, or asleep in her room. Even the open window is off-limits. But Sherry has a soft spot for us after seeing me here almost every day for the past seven years. She’s told me I’m one of the few who visit their loved ones in this place frequently. She also knows that the only time I ever truly sleep is when I’ve got my wife in my arms, when I can escape to that place where we’re together and none of this is real. Soon, Sherry will return with another nurse to turn Ember and take care of her other daily necessities. Sometimes I stay and help, but today I’d rather have just the memory of napping with her in my arms.

Reluctantly, I get up to close the window, then turn the bed back toward the television, which drones on 24/7.

Ember continues the maddening, lifeless stare. I fear it’s contagious and that I’m starting to look the same way.

I feel invisible. A ghost trapped in the same solitary limbo as my wife, except fate has shoved a massive invisible wall between us.

I fix the blankets—which are ours from home—kiss my wife softly on the lips, and grab yesterday’s flowers on my way out the door.

Tomorrow, I’ll do it all over again.

Chapter Two

Most people think because I’m the lead singer of a popular rock band that I live a never-ending life of parties, exotic places, and women.

They’re surprised to find out I don’t party at all. Not with substances and not with women. I travel with the band to other countries, but it’s not anything close to a vacation.

I’m a homebody.

All I’ve ever wanted to do when I’m not working is spend time with my family and friends and write new songs.

And rest, because no matter what, I never seem to get enough sleep.

Years ago, Ember and I started a tradition of inviting our friends and family over to our place every other Friday night during the warm months. We grilled food out on the back deck and sat around the bonfire eating and talking. Usually myself or someone else ended up singing and playing acoustic guitar.

My best friend, Toren, always comes over with food and drinks, and my daughter, Kenzi, helps him set it all up.

As I sit in a lawn chair in my backyard, watching this ritual taking place around me, I almost laugh at how things are so much the same and yet so incredibly different.

Ember used to always be right with me at these get-togethers—holding my hand or sitting on my lap. We’d sing duets together around the fire, like we did on stage before she started her own band.

My brothers, cousins, and friends were all single back when we started these get-togethers, and they’d mostly come to drink and try to hook up with a friend that someone else brought with them. But over the past few years, they’ve each met someone and settled down.

I wonder if they know how lucky they are.

I hope they do.

I remember sitting in this very chair I’m sitting in right now and seeing Kenzi perched at the edge of the pool with Tor, dangling their feet in the water and talking for hours.

Watching them do that exact same thing right now, I can’t help but wonder if Ember had been here, would she have noticed that our best friend and our daughter were in their own little world where their cute, innocent friendship was slowly turning into something much, much more over the years?

The scene right now is the same as it was when Kenzi was ten, twelve, fourteen, seventeen, and all the ages between.

The relationship isn’t.

A little over a year ago, I walked her down the aisle and put her hand in his.

I watched my twenty-year-old daughter marry my thirty-five-year-old best friend.

Yeah, it’s the stuff of every father’s nightmares. I went through all the stages of rage and blame. Twice. I sat at Ember’s bedside and cried for days, begging her to wake the hell up and help me do the right thing. Kenzi needed her mother, and I needed my wife. Then and now.